by Amy Bellows
My mother covers her mouth with her hand. “But you didn’t…”
Clearly, I did.
23
Tatum
By the time the bus reaches the trailer park, all my tears are gone. I walk numbly down the road while Abbie’s words run through my head over and over again. I should feel guilty enough to give him up. I should love him enough to care about what’s best for him, just like she said. And yet, I can’t. Every time I think about letting him go, something deep inside of me wants to die.
What is wrong with me?
It isn’t until I’m across the street from our house that I notice the water leaking from the bottom of front door.
What is going on?
I sprint across the street and throw the door open. Water pours out onto my shoes. It’s all over the floor, at least an inch thick. My mother is napping on the couch, completely unaware.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Where is it coming from?
My first thought is the kitchen sink, but when I glance over, it’s not on. Oh, God. The tub. I meant to get the upper drain fixed months ago. I guess Mom decided she wanted to have a bath, then forgot. I splash through our front room toward the first door on the right. The tub is spraying out water at full blast, the water spilling over the side.
I turn it off, but the damage is done. Our entire house is flooded.
With horror, I realize I’m late on the insurance.
I don’t know what to do or who to call. Having friends requires you to actually have time to hang out with them. And Mom’s never had any family. Back when she got in her accident, it became painfully clear how alone we were. Nothing has changed.
A scream comes from the front room. I guess mom finally woke up.
“What happened? Tatum! Where are you?”
At least she didn’t wake up while I was gone.
I splash down the hall and into the front room where my mother is staring at the mess with her hands over her mouth.
“I did this, didn’t I?” she says.
I wrap my arms around her. “It was an accident.”
“I forgot. Oh, honey. I didn’t mean to.”
“Shh, I know. It’s your memory. It isn’t your fault.”
She starts crying. This is a bad day—a day when she remembers what she’s forgotten. On days like this, almost nothing can console her.
“I’m a burden on you. Oh, Tatum, I’m a burden.”
“No, Mom. Never. I love you.”
As we stand there in our flooded front room, my first instinct is to call Damien. He could whisk us away and let us stay in his guest house until we get the water cleaned up. He’d kiss me and tell me everything is going to be okay.
Then the media would rain down on him like vultures.
The realization that I can’t call him makes me ache. He’s my alpha. I should be able to ask for his help.
Except he isn’t. I’m never going to have an alpha. Especially not an alpha like him.
I have to deal with this on my own.
“Let’s go outside, okay?”
It’s too cold for us to stay out there for long, but at least we won’t be standing in a few inches of water. I guide Mom to the front door, and we walk down the steps as the water flows over them. The moment we’re outside, she shivers. The strange thing is that I’m not cold at all.
I feel a yearning to go back inside the house—not to save our photo albums or our Social Security cards, but the coffee creamers Damien gave me. We can’t let those get ruined by the flood. The hot cocoas he gave me need to be saved too. I should go pile them on my bed, just in case.
“Tatum?” my mom says.
I’m already halfway to the door. “Hmmm?”
“Where are you going? I thought you said we should stay outside.”
“Oh, I need to put Damien’s presents on my bed to keep them safe.”
She trails after me.
“No, Mom. I have to do this on my own and wait for him. You have to stay out here.”
“Wait for who?” she asks.
I walk back up the watery steps. “For my alpha. If I build a good nest, he’ll come for me.”
“A nest? Sweetie, are you going into heat?”
The door closes behind me.
24
Damien
My mother walks with me into The Bond Center, which is strangely sterile for a place devoted to love. All the walls and furniture are white. Even the receptionist behind the desk is wearing all white, except for three silver piercings on her neck. She has a bond-cut on her scent gland, and the jewelry has been inserted underneath the scar tissue.
I realize I’ve been looking at her scent gland for too long and clear my throat. “Sorry.”
She smiles. “It’s all right. It’s a needle-induced bond. If you’re curious about it, Dr. Nelson’s happy to explain how it works.”
A needle-induced bond? I had no idea such a thing was possible for bond-cut omegas.
How would the bond-cut clients of the SLASW react if they knew? Many of them spend their lives assuming they won’t ever have a bond.
“Thanks. I might ask him about it. But I’m actually here for a different reason. My scent gland has started to leak, and I’m not bonded yet.”
Her eyes widen. “I’ll go get the doctor.” She stands and walks down the hallway behind her desk. In less than thirty seconds, a blonde man in a white doctor’s coat comes rushing back.
“Are you nauseous?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I’m fine now that the omega I tried to go on a date with is gone. But my scent gland is still leaking.”
The doctor walks around the desk and holds his hand out to me. “I’m Dr. Nelson.” He has a gentle grip as he shakes my hand. He must be in his thirties, and he’s lovely with a strong jaw, a striking smile, and big blue eyes. He’s the kind of man I should want to bond to.
“Damien Ringdal.”
“If you start feeling nauseous, please let Katie know. I have a patient I need to finish up with. I’ll be with you as soon as possible.” He retreats back behind the receptionist’s desk and leaves me with my mother in the lobby.
I sit next to her on one of the white, spindly chairs lining the office. She rubs my back, like I’m a kid. Even though I’m way too old for that, I’m grateful. She’s been by my side through everything.
“Thanks, Mom.”
She gives me a warm smile.
Before this week, when was the last time we truly connected? When this is all over, I want to be a better son. Maybe that’s something I can learn from Tatum.
After nearly an hour, a couple emerges from the back hallway. A large alpha with vibrant bird tattoos down his arms walks side-by-side with an omega holding a baby girl.
Dr. Nelson trails behind them. “It’s great to see you doing so well, Marcus. Would you be willing to come back for more bloodwork in six months? Your test results have been very helpful.”
The alpha nods, and leans over to give the doctor a hug. “Congratulations on your pregnancy. Let us know if we can do anything.”
That’s when I notice that the omega has piercings in the crook of his neck, like Katie. The alpha holds his hands out for the baby, but the omega shakes his head. “I need my baby cuddles.”
My heart aches, thinking of Tatum holding our future babies like that. Once again, I’m getting carried away. Clearly, there’s something wrong with me. And I don’t think Dr. Nelson has a body piercing procedure that will magically fix my problem.
“Come on back. Let’s figure out what’s going on with your scent gland,” Dr. Nelson says.
I stand and follow him, giving my mother a quick wave as I go. Dr. Nelson leads me through a hall of doors and walks into the last one on the right. I sit on the paper-covered patient bench.
“A few months ago I was diagnosed with a heat latch,” I say, as he closes the door.
“Were you diagnosed by a bond doctor?”
I shake my head. “No. Just by my
regular doctor. I’ve been working as a heat companion for ten years now, and when I started to feel an uncontrollable lust toward a student, he did some tests. I guess my testosterone was far too high, and my scent gland was producing too many pheromones.”
Dr. Nelson sits on a rolling stool near the door. “Only one student?”
“Yes. His name is Tatum. I teach history at the University of Grayson, and he’s an undergraduate in one of my generals classes.”
He presses his lips together. “Can I ask you a personal question, Damien?”
“I suppose that’s probably necessary.”
He rolls his chair a little closer to me. In this position, I’m sitting higher than he is. That’s interesting. I often choose positioning like this when I’m trying to get a client to warm up to me. It gives them a feeling of control.
“Have you had sexual relations with Tatum?”
I close my eyes and nod.
A warm hand closes over my knee. I open my eyes.
“Please don’t be embarrassed. I’m not here to judge you. I have one other question. Have you bitten his scent gland?”
“No. I sucked on it once. Very hard. Obviously, too hard.”
He smiles. “A bond can only be accomplished through a deep bite. I assure you, it’s not something that happens by accident. Even if you sucked on his scent gland hard enough to draw blood, it wouldn’t be enough to trigger this kind of reaction. I think I know what’s going on here.”
He rolls away to the desk in the corner. After typing a few things into his computer, the printer next to the monitor whirrs to life.
“First, you don’t have a heat latch.”
“But my doctor said—”
He turns to me. “A general practitioner is not qualified to diagnose a heat latch. That was irresponsible of him. He should have referred you to a bond doctor. A lot of doctors shrug off bond medical work as overly simplistic or emotional. It’s not considered a ‘hard science,’ but it’s still very important. Your case is a perfect example. If you had a heat latch, you would have lusted after every omega you met. But your attraction was directed toward a specific omega. Which means this is a case of Socios in Fatis.”
Fated mates. He can’t be serious.
“Doctor, I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
He hands me a stack of papers from his printer. The first page is a study done on different couples who experienced elevated levels of pheromones and uncontrollable lust upon meeting each other.
“Let me guess. You started experiencing your ‘heat latch’ around January, when spring semester started. Right after you met Tatum.”
He’s right. I did.
“You went to the doctor, and he told you not to teach, but instead of listening to him, you continued working, partially because the idea of never seeing Tatum again was too much for you to handle.”
While I don’t want to admit that to myself, I think it’s true.
“At some point your connection to Tatum became too overwhelming to ignore, and the two of you ended up in escalating sexual situations, during which you felt an overwhelming desire to bond to him, and he begged for you to bite him.”
That’s exactly what happened. I remember Tatum’s whispered plea. I could never forget how much I wanted to make him mine in that moment.
“I don’t believe in fairy tales either. But sometimes when two people meet, there is a very chemical and unstoppable connection. Bond doctors call this Socios in Fatis. Despite the mounting scientific evidence, many doctors didn’t think it was real until we discovered it’s irreversible. Most bonds can be removed through surgery, but a connection between Socios in Fatis is permanent. The moment you met Tatum, your fate was sealed. Your scent gland leaked today because as far as your body is concerned, you’re already bonded to him.”
Relief rushes through me. If it’s irreversible, that means I get to be with Tatum. It also means Tatum doesn’t have a choice. I hope he doesn’t mind.
“What is this experience like for an omega?”
The doctor smiles. “I’m glad you asked because this part is important. In our culture, alphas are taught to be the aggressors. The reverse is true for omegas, which means most Socios in Fatis omegas feel hesitant to pursue their bond, even if waiting it out is painful. Because it’s been months and you haven’t bonded to Tatum, he’s probably very insecure right now. For Socios in Fatis omegas, an extended courtship can have a psychological impact. They’ll sometimes concoct elaborate fantasies where their alpha wants to be with them, or some of them will go into a premature heat as a desperate cry for help. The sooner you can bond to him, the better.”
My poor, sweet omega.
For the first time I realize that every time I thought of Tatum as my omega, I was right. He is mine. And I don’t have to hold back from him any longer.
“I need to go,” I say.
Dr. Nelson stands. “I’d like to see you both in a week. Especially Tatum.”
I nod and try to calmly walk away from Dr. Nelson, but by the time I’ve hit the receptionist’s desk, I’m running. My mother jumps up, alarmed.
“It’s Socios in Fatis. It means—”
She rolls her eyes. “I write romance novels. I know what it means.”
I throw my head back and laugh. Of course she does.
She opens the glass door. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go. After that vomiting incident, I’m not letting you drive, but I’ll take you to his house.”
I run out the door and sprint toward her car.
“Run as fast as you want, but these old bones are walking,” she calls after me.
I pull out my phone and text Tatum.
I’m on my way to your house. I have something I need to talk to you about.
In less than an hour, Tatum Bloom will be mine.
25
Tatum
At first I plan to only carry four coffee creamers at a time, but I don’t know how long it will be before my alpha comes, so I end up gathering all eight into my arms and shuffling into the hall. I almost slip a few times because of the water, but my precious cargo stays dry. Getting my bedroom door open takes some maneuvering. I wade through the water to my bed, and then I realize the problem.
My mattress is wet. I never had a chance to build the bedframe Damien sent me.
I don’t know where to build my nest. How will my alpha come for me if I don’t have a nest? He won’t want to make a baby on a wet mattress.
Then I remember I don’t have an alpha. I’m standing here alone with eight coffee creamers in my hands in my flooded house, and I’m about to go into heat. My mother must still be waiting outside.
The shed might be dry. In the back of my mind, I know I should go to my mother, but it’s hard to remember why. If I can take these coffee creamers to the shed, my alpha will find me there. The shed is a nice place for a nest. There’s a space heater and lots of toys for us to play with. I’ll show him the dildo I named after him. He’ll like that.
I slosh down the hallway and through the back door. The outside is cooler, which is nice. This is definitely the right thing to do. The back yard is flooded too, including the shed. But that’s okay. There’s a bed in that isn’t wet. I slide my laptop off the metal desk in the corner to make space for the coffee creamers. It splashes when it hits the water. Now I need to get the rest of his gifts. I move slowly, but after several trips I have a nice collection of the hot cocoa, popcorn, and the boxes holding the bedframe. I bring in some pillows and blankets from my mother’s room too, which reminds me that I should do something about my mother. I just can’t remember what.
I arrange the gifts along the edge of the bed and stack the bedding. The bed isn’t very big, and the floor is wet, but my alpha won’t reject my nest, will he? Heart wrenching in my chest, I look at the bare walls of the shed and the small twin bed. Damien, with his stately house and his refined tastes, will never accept this nest.
I’m not enough for him. I never will be.
>
One by one, I remove my clothes and drop them into the water. This is how I’m going to spend my heat. Alone. I curl up in the blankets, my soaked feet tracking water into the nest, and wait for him to come and reject me. I arched my neck for him, and he didn’t bite. I begged for it, and he didn’t want me.
Damien Ringdal is never going to want me.
My mother is outside. I should be in a panic, but the endorphins from my heat wash over me, and all I can do is rock back and forth on my knees. With growing terror, I realize any alpha could come in here and take me. I wouldn’t be able to stop them. The pheromones from my heat might travel through the trailer park. The shed isn’t insulated.
A voice calls out my name. It’s so far away. My phone sings from my pants pocket on the floor. Maybe my alpha is calling me. That must mean he’s going to come to me soon. I cuddle closer to the blankets and keep rocking.
I should want him to come, but wouldn’t it be better if he didn’t? Then I’d never have to see his disappointment or disgust.
I’d rather be taken by another alpha than rejected by Damien.
My phone sings again. The shed door swings open, and Damien steps inside.
My alpha is here.
Cheeks burning with shame, I hide my face in my nest.
26
Damien
When I see his mother walking down the street in her night dress, I know what’s happened. Maybe I can smell him from this far off, or maybe it’s because we’re fated. I ask my mother to stop the car and tell her she needs to take care of Gwen.
“What is going on?” she asks.
“Tatum’s in heat.”
I run down the street so fast my feet can barely keep up. I’m familiar with the instincts an alpha experiences in the throes of an omega’s heat, and I’ve always been able to stay levelheaded and work through my lust. But this pull toward Tatum is unlike anything I’ve experienced before. It’s manic and wild, especially when I get to his house and he’s not there. I can smell him—I know he’s nearby. But every room is empty.
