Page 81 of These Bonds that Unite Us
After the rest of the mess is clean and the cake is stored in the fridge for later, I head out to the patio to put the meat in the smoker. I also double-check to make sure the heater is turned on in the pool. It’s chilly enough outside to warrant heated water.Maybe later we’ll head down to the beach and have a bonfire. I think we have all the stuff for s’mores in the kitchen.
The rest of my mates come out a few minutes later, beach towels in hand. They are quick to drop them on lounger chairs and dive into the water to escape the chilly breeze flowing through the backyard.
Seeing the light, happy smile on Omen’s face and matching joy in her bond fills my heart with love. Right now it’s easy to believe things between the five of us will work out. Fate really knew what they were doing, giving us an omega like her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Now Playing: Resentment- A Day to Remember
I’m starving, tired, and want to be in my nest. We’ve spent the majority of the day in the studio where the guys have been practicing their new songs. I shift on my chair for the hundredth time in a few minutes before giving in to my instincts.
The guys wave me off, promising to be up in a bit. I leave them to their work and head upstairs to find a snack.
Wandering to the third floor, my nose calls me into the closet. The pile of dirty laundry smells like heaven. I need this shirt for my nest. And these sweats. A pair of Nexus’ lacy boxers? These are mine now too.
Picking out a few other pieces, I shove my snacks in my hoodie pocket and haul them all into the nest. Rearranging all of the blankets with my new additions woven in helps settle the antsy feeling in my chest.
It’s only as I’m scarfing down my second granola bar I realize what is happening. I’m nesting and irritable. “Shit,” I whisper. Pulling up the calendar on my phone, I curse again. My heat issupposed to start soon. I’d hoped the suppressants I was using would push it off, but apparently not.
Physically, I feel better than I did two weeks ago. But is that enough? What if the damage done to my body by the chemical rejection is too much for me to handle a heat? I can’t answer these questions myself, so I take a deep breath and dial Doctor Russell’s office. The nurse tells me she is with another patient and will call me back.
Several of my snacks are devoured before the phone rings. I answer quickly, gripping the device a little too tightly.
“Good afternoon, Omen. How are you feeling?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m in pre-heat.” I rush out the words, trying not to panic. One step at a time, slow and steady is how you face difficult situations.
“Okay, and you have concerns about experiencing a heat?” She asks politely.
“Is it even safe for me to have a full heat? What if my body can’t take the extra toll?”
“Deep breaths. You have a bond–”
“Three bonds.”
“Even better! You have multiple bonds to help stabilize you through the heat. As long as you don’t go too long without being knotted the first time, I see no reason to be concerned about a proper heat.” I can hear her mouse clicking on the other end of the line. My phone dings a few seconds later with an email. “I’ve sent you the paperwork your pack will need to submit to their label for the time off to help you through the heat.”
“Can’t I take suppressants? Delay it for a few more weeks?” I beg. I’m not ready for a heat. Not after the last time I went through one…
Time is irrelevant when my entire world devolves to nothing more than the searing heat flowing through my veins and the emptiness slowly seeping into my very soul. Aftermy sister had been married off, her bedroom emptied in mere hours, I thought I’d known loneliness. Yet the broken consuming loneliness I feel between waves of this heat are almost debilitating in their intensity.
While I recognize that the severity of my growing depression is a result of compounding trauma and not specifically my current isolation, it isn’t easy to think rationally when I’m so wrung out I can barely move.
I’m not sure how long I have been confined to the hotel nest. Based on the rancid smell of stale sweat and slick that permeates every molecule in the tiny space it has to have been at least a week. The thought nearly sends me into another depressive spiral.
Seven days of pain and longing.
Seven days of solitude.
They aren’t coming. There isn’t some romantic rescue waiting on the other side of these nest doors. My future is filled with promises of more lonely heats, not mates to care for me.
“You’re scared, and that’s a completely normal response after all you’ve been through.”
Doctor Russell’s voice pulls me from the memories of my last heat. I try to shake off the dejected train of thought remembering that hell has stirred up.
“Why don’t you give your therapist a call? Maybe fit in an emergency session to discuss this?” she suggests. “I can tell you with certainty, taking suppressants to delay this heat would be inadvisable. It could throw off your entire system causing an increase in both severity and duration, as well as unpredictability. Your heats could come more frequently or they could not come at all, neither of which is good for your body.”
“Okay,” I sigh. She gives me a list of signs to watch for during the heat, and an emergency contact number in case anything goes wrong.
