Page 35 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
“That takes time,” I said gently. “Especially when you’re dealing with suppressant changes. Your nesting instincts might start reasserting themselves as your natural biology comes back online.”
“Nesting instincts,” she repeated, like the words were foreign.
“The urge to create safe, comfortable spaces. Gathering soft things, organizing your living area for maximum comfort and security. It’s completely normal for omegas, especially during transitions.”
Willa looked around her sparse duplex with its deliberately impersonal furniture and minimal belongings. “I’m not really a nester.”
“You might be surprised,” I said. “Suppressants don’t just dampen heat cycles. They can suppress a lot of natural omega instincts that might resurface as the medication clears your system.”
Willa had been chemically cut off from parts of herself for so long she’d forgotten they existed. I watched her carefully as she processed this information.
“What if I don’t want those instincts back?” she asked quietly. “What if being a ‘natural’ omega feels too vulnerable?”
The question broke something in my chest. The idea that she’d been taught to fear her own biology, to see omega instincts as weaknesses instead of strengths, made me want to find Sterling and explain a few things about proper omega care.
“Then you take it slow,” I said instead. “You explore what feels right for you without pressure or expectations. Being omega doesn’t mean following some predetermined script. It means honoring your own needs and boundaries.”
“And if I need help figuring out what those needs are?”
“Then you ask people you trust. People who want to support you without trying to control you.”
Willa was quiet for a long moment, the scent cloth pressed to her face. When she spoke, her voice was small and careful.
“I think I’ve forgotten how to trust my own instincts. Sterling spent so long telling me which parts of my omega nature were acceptable that I lost track of what I actually wanted versus what I thought I should want.”
And there it was. The real damage Sterling did. Not just controlling her career, but convincing her to distrust her own biology.
“That’s going to take time to sort out,” I said gently. “But maybe this transition period is an opportunity to rediscover those parts of yourself without external pressure.”
“Maybe.” She looked around her living space again, and I could see her trying to imagine what it might look like if she allowed herself to make it truly comfortable instead of just functional.
Finally, she reached across the space between us and touched the edge of the scent cloth I’d given her, her fingers brushing against mine briefly.
“Thank you,” she said. “For treating this like healthcare instead of judgment. For making me feel like I’m not broken.”
“You’re not broken,” I said firmly. “You’re just an omega whose body is trying to return to its natural patterns. And that’s something to support, not suppress.”
As I prepared to leave, I packed extra scent cloths into a small bag for her.
“If your symptoms get worse, or if you need any kind of support during this transition, call me immediately,” I said. “Day or night.”
“I will,” she said, and I believed her.
“Wes,” I said, turning to him as I gathered my kit. “Make sure she has supplies to stay hydrated and she gets rest. The next twenty-four hours will be the most intense part of the withdrawal.”
“I can stay if she needs…” Wes began.
“I’ll be fine,” Willa interrupted, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced. “You both have lives and responsibilities. I can handle this.”
“You don’t have to handle it alone,” I said. “But we’ll respect whatever level of support you’re comfortable with.”
After we left her house, Wes and I stood by our vehicles for a moment, both processing what we’d witnessed.
“She’s going to need more help than she’s willing to ask for,” Wes said quietly.
“Probably,” I agreed. “But pushing will only make her retreat further. She has to choose to trust us.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
