by Amy Bellows
I force myself to calm down. If I want to find Tatum, I need to think. I run through the meditation another heat companion taught me when I first started in the business. Inhale through the mouth, exhale through the nose. Inhale through the mouth, exhale through the nose. I repeat the mantra over and over again. Then I open my eyes.
Why is Tatum’s house flooded?
I walk through all the rooms again, this time with a clear head, and notice everything I should have picked up on the first time. Tatum’s mattress is still on the floor, and it’s wet. He wouldn’t choose to nest here. Omegas instinctively seek out a dry, safe space. Also, either his mother didn’t have any blankets or pillows on her bed, or he’s moved all of them to a different location. Since there isn’t another floor to the trailer, that means he’s gone to a friend’s house or found a place outside his home to nest. It can’t be very far if he carried his mother’s pillows there.
Tatum’s cam show. Where did he film that? There was a twin bed in his shots. I didn’t notice that anywhere inside the trailer.
If it’s close enough for him to move the blankets and pillows, maybe it’s close enough for me to hear his phone ring.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and call his number. At first, I don’t hear anything. Then I splash through the water to the back door and fling it open. A soft, subtle tune plays from somewhere in the backyard. There’s a small shed back there with a questionable tin roof, but that can’t be where he does his shows. It would be too cold. I call his phone again.
The quiet tune plays from the direction of the shed. I run toward it, twist the doorknob, and wrench it open. Tatum is naked and rocking on the bed with a nest of pillows and blankets all around him. The coffee creamers I gave him are arranged on a metal desk, and the bedframe I ordered for him rests uselessly behind the pillows. He digs his forehead into his blankets like an ostrich sinking its head into the sand.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll do better next time, I promise.” His words come out in a soft whine.
I rush toward him. On the way I step on his laptop, which is now submerged in water.
“What are you sorry for, baby?” I gather his naked body in my arms.
“The nest. The water is no good. I know that. And the bed is no good either. You deserve a better nest. You deserve a better omega. Oh, please don’t leave me, Damien.”
He wraps his naked body around me, using both his arms and legs to grip me tight.
Dr. Nelson was right. I waited far too long to bond with him. If only I had known what was going on from the very beginning, I would have done everything differently. But none of that matters now. I have to focus on the situation at hand. Tatum’s in heat in a rickety shed, and I need to figure out a way to get him to my place that won’t be traumatizing.
“I’m not going to leave you, okay? I promise. I’d like to take you to my house. How would you feel about that?” He’s already deep into his nesting phase, which means his logic is gone, and I’ll have to convince his inner omega this is a good idea.
“My nest isn’t good enough for you,” he says miserably.
How can I move him without rejecting his nest? When an omega spends a heat alone or with an alpha who isn’t their mate, they generally build a nest of things that make them feel safe. Once they have a mate, it becomes more complicated. Sharing that safe space with a mate can cause all kinds of insecurities if the alpha isn’t affirming of his omega’s nest.
“What you’ve created for me is beautiful, Tatum.” It isn’t a lie. The way he’s arranged the pillows and his gifts appeals to me on a very instinctual level. I would enjoy it more if I didn’t need to keep my head right now.
“It isn’t enough.” He holds me tighter. At this point, I can barely breathe.
“It is. I swear to you.”
I glance over at his metal desk. Dr. Nelson said Socios in Fatis omegas develop elaborate fantasies with their alpha. I remember the video of him sitting on a different desk—one I found in his mother’s room earlier. He was wearing a suit and flirting with his audience. “You guys know I go to school. This semester I’m taking history, and fuck. The professor… He could take this ass for a ride any time he wants.”
“I have this fantasy,” I tell him. “One I want to act out with you.”
His arms relax a little. “Does that mean you’re going to stay with me?”
“It means I want to take you to this big desk I have at my house. It’s where I grade my papers. I want to have sex with you on it.”
Tatum moans in my ear. I’m clearly on the right track.
“I’ll put my suspenders on, and you can call me professor while I take you from behind. I want you to come all over the ungraded essays.”
He releases my shoulders to start unbuttoning my shirt. “I can make you happy, Damien. I promise I won’t ruin your life.” There’s so much anguish in his voice.
“No, you won’t ruin my life. You’ll make it so much better. I want to take you to my house, so we can live out my fantasy together. It would mean a lot to me to have you on my desk and in my bedroom. Will you let me take you there?”
He looks around at his nest. “We’ll come back to my nest? I need my coffee creamers. You wouldn’t have given them to an omega you weren’t interested in. That must mean you like me, right?”
I look at his nest a little differently now. At first, I thought he added all of the gifts from me because he thought I would like them. But now I wonder if they were validating for him—if he wasn’t building a nest for me, but to prepare himself for a heat alone. I want to wring the neck of the doctor who misdiagnosed me. All of this could have been avoided if I had only known.
“I do like you. Very much. What if we brought the coffee creamers with us? We could bring the hot cocoa and bedframe too. Also, I love the way you’ve arranged these pillows. I have some pillows at my house too. It would mean a lot to me if you would rearrange them when we get there.”
He keeps unbuttoning my shirt. Clearly, he doesn’t understand that I’ll need to be clothed if this plan is going to work. “You’d let me arrange the pillows in your beautiful home? Would you… let me spend my heat there? I promise not to be a bother. I’ll clean up after myself and try to be quiet.”
I kiss him. If only he was coherent and I could explain this properly to him. I try to phrase my response in a way his inner omega will understand.
“I am your alpha. And you are my omega. I want you to arrange the pillows in my home. I want your smell and slick in my bed. You can spend your heat in my bedroom, and you don’t have to be quiet.”
His fingers unfasten my buttons more frantically. “Please. I want to go.”
“I need to call my mother, okay?” How am I going to explain this to her?
His eyes widen. “My mother! We have to find her!”
“I already did. Don’t you worry. She’s safe, okay?”
He tucks his head under my chin and curls his arms into my chest. His inner omega finally trusts that I’m going to take care of him. I kiss the top of his head and get out my phone. My mother answers on the second ring.
“How’s it going?”
“Well, Gwen and I have come to a precarious understanding about her current situation that is contingent upon me finding a newspaper to show the current date and a photo from you proving her son is safe, but other than that, it’s fine.”
I definitely owe her after this.
“I need you to come back to Tatum’s place. His house is flooded, and I have to transport him to my home.”
“You can’t move an omega during their heat. It will be too traumatic for him.”
I take in a deep breath. “Mom, helping omegas through their heats is what I do. It’s what I’m good at. Tatum’s stable right now, and I’ve prepared him for the move. You have to trust me on this.”
There’s a long silence on the other end.
“Okay. But you are going to give me grandbabies after this, Damien. Lots and lots of grandbabies.”<
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27
Tatum
My alpha carries me outside wrapped in a blanket. I close my eyes and burrow my nose into his chest. Leaving my nest makes me feel a little queasy and anxious, but the smell of my alpha calms me.
The sway of his body while he walks is smooth and sure. He’s so strong. He stops for a moment and lowers me onto the back seat of a car. I open my eyes, suddenly terrified he’s going to leave me.
“Shh, I’m right here. Everything’s okay,” he whispers and sits down beside me.
My mother is in the front seat of a car next to Sharita. How did she get here? How did I get here?
My alpha closes the door behind him. “Let’s go.”
“But the coffee creamers. We didn’t get the coffee creamers.”
He pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms around me. “I’m going to ask a friend to get them for us, okay? I was worried I might drop them while I was holding you, and they’re too important to risk.”
I cuddle closer to him. My alpha takes good care of me.
When the car starts, my stomach lurches. It doesn’t feel right to be moving like this. I grab at my alpha’s shoulder, trying to steady myself.
“We don’t have to drive very far. I know you’re uncomfortable right now, but I have that nice, big desk in my bedroom at home. I can’t wait to lay you out on it and make love to you.” While we drive, he describes the desk and his bedroom in detail. His breath on my ear and his firm grip around my body are my lifeline as the nausea and fear mount in my body.
I clench my teeth. “Please take me back. I need my nest.”
“Mom, is there any way we can go faster?” he says.
“Not without getting pulled over. There are cops on every corner in this part of town.”
I can feel the tension in my alpha’s body. Something must be wrong if he’s worried.
“Please, Damien. I need to go back,” I beg.
He threads his fingers through my hair and massages my scalp. “Almost there, baby. Just hang in there for a little while longer.”
In the background I hear a familiar tune. My mother sings along to the first verse of “Nine to Five” by Dolly Parton. A giggle bubbles to the surface.
“That’s right, sweetie. You gonna sing it with me?” she calls back to me.
I shake my head.
“He’s already in his nesting phase. He won’t remember the words,” my alpha says.
He’s wrong. I’ll always remember. Every time we moved growing up, my mom would pop in that CD and create a home for me with her off-tune voice. No matter where we ended up, I knew we would be okay because of her.
Sharita starts singing along with my mother. My body melts into my alpha. This isn’t the same as my nest, but it’s the next best thing.
“You like that, huh?” he says, still massaging my scalp. During the next chorus, his deep voice joins our mothers’. It’s smooth and full, even though he has to stumble through a few of the words.
The next song starts up, and my mother sings an impassioned rendition of “Jolene.”
“C’mon, Tatum. Sing with me. You’re gonna get through this. You just gotta sing,” she tells me.
In that moment, while I cuddle in my alpha’s arms and my mother comforts me with music, I don’t feel alone. A flash of clarity clears the fog in my head. I don’t know if it’s because of the music or because I feel safe. All I know is when I thought my entire world crumbled all around me, my alpha came to rescue me, and my mother helped him.
The car rolls to a stop.
“We’re here, Tatum. I’m going to get out of the car first, then pick you up, okay?”
That’s right. My alpha brought me to his home for my heat.
“Are you going to be my heat companion?” I ask, the fog descending once again.
He opens the door and climbs out. “No, I’m going to be your mate.”
There was a reason why that can’t happen, but I don’t remember what it was right now.
I hold out my arms to him. “Please, Damien.”
Humming “Nine to Five” in my ear, he picks me up and carries me to his front door, shifting me in his arms as he gets out his key to unlock it. I tremble and hold him tight. We’re out in the open where any alpha could steal me away. My alpha wouldn’t let them, would he? Or would he be grateful he doesn’t have to deal with me anymore?
“We’re almost there,” he says, pushing the door open. He shuts it behind us, and suddenly I’m safe. This is my alpha’s house. He wouldn’t take me here if he didn’t want me, would he? Then I remember the house out back where he used to bring his old clients. Maybe he’ll carry me there. Heart sinking, I remember his promise to take care of me until he chooses a mate. Is that all this is?
He walks through the foyer.
“Please. Not the back. I’m not a client.”
He hushes me and starts climbing the stairs. “You’re not a client, Tatum. You’re mine. Forever.”
I squeeze him tighter. Does he really mean that? Maybe he’s saying that to calm me down. He didn’t make his choice yet.
“I won’t ruin your life. I would never ruin your life.”
He reaches the top of the staircase, breathing deep into my ear. “No, you’d never ruin my life. You’re going to be the best mate. My sweet omega.”
There’s an open door just a few paces away. He steps inside, and a huge wooden desk stacked with white papers looms ahead. His desk. I feel a deep ache inside my chest. If only I could spend my heat there. It would be like all my fantasies in his office. I close my eyes and try to remember. Back then, it was simpler. I could dream up scenarios where he told me I was beautiful and smart—that he wanted me even without his heat latch. Our connection wasn’t a medical problem. It was real.
“Could I sit on it? Just for a second?” I’m too far gone to be embarrassed by how pathetic I am. I love Damien so much. If only I had more time to prove myself before he chose a mate. If only I was older or classier. But he’s going to bond with someone else. How will I bear it? I can’t imagine living without him.
Damien sets me down on the desk. It feels solid underneath me, like this is where I belong. Can’t he feel it? He looks into my eye. His deep brown skin sheened with sweat, his glasses are askew, and his hair is lopsided on one side from my grasping fingers. He’s so beautiful.
“Tell me about your fantasies, baby.” He opens my knees and steps between them, pulling me forward until our bodies meet. “These next few days are all about you. I want to make you feel good.”
His chest is so warm against mine. I close my eyes and press my forehead to his. “Anything? What if it’s silly?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ve had plenty of silly fantasies. Tell me what you want.”
If I tell him, he’ll think I’m foolish. But maybe I don’t care. I’m here sitting on his desk, and my slick has started to collect on the blanket underneath me.
“Could we… pretend that you want me without your heat latch? That it’s… real?”
He holds me closer, diving his nose into my scent gland. “We don’t have to pretend. I don’t have a heat latch.”
I pull away from him. “What do you mean? You said—”
“I was misdiagnosed, Tatum. I went to a bond doctor today because my scent gland leaked when I tried to go out with another omega.”
“But that only happens when—”
He slides his hand along my jaw. “When an alpha is bonded. Yes. The doctor said we were Socios in Fatis. Fated mates.”
He’s the best heat companion anyone could ask for. He’s thought up the perfect fantasy. What could possibly be better than to know I was fated to Damien? That I got to keep him forever? A tear tracks down my cheek, and I don’t even try to brush it away.
“That’s wonderful,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
His eyes narrow. “It isn’t—”
“I know, I know. It isn’t real.” I kiss him like I would if he were mine. For the next five days, he
is, isn’t he? For whatever reason, Damien’s decided to see me through my heat, and I decide that I’m going to enjoy this time I have with him, even if it rips my heart out later.
He pulls away from me. “Tatum, it is real. I don’t have a heat latch. See, look.” He flips over the cuff of his right sleeve to show me a brown stain. “We’re Socios in Fatis. We get to be together. For the rest of our lives.”
I shake my head. That can’t be right. “But I’m nothing. I’m nobody. I don’t deserve—”
He presses his fingers to my lips. “You’re mine.” His voice has a possessive edge to it that calms my inner omega.
“Yours.”
He kisses my neck and lowers his mouth onto my scent gland. His tongue is hot and wet against the sensitive skin.
“Oh, please. Please,” I beg.
He sucks on the skin, and I arch my neck. He sucks harder, and I can’t help but gush all over the blanket. He moans into my skin. I can feel the edge of his teeth against me. Just a little harder. Just a little more. I crane my neck further and further to the side, until my muscles cry out.
He releases me.
“No!” I throw my arms around him, so he can’t get away.
“Hey, I’m not going anywhere. I just want to be inside you when I bond to you.”
Oh, God. Damien’s going to bond to me. I release him and grab for the buttons on his shirt. Half of them are already unfastened.
He chuckles. “You and those buttons. How about you let me take my clothes off? It’s only fair, since I’ve seen you strip in front of the camera.”
He steps back, and this time it isn’t scary because he’s looking me straight in the eye. He isn’t trying to get away from me. This is something different.
“What do you think? Do you want to earn some extra credit?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow up while he unfastens the last few buttons on his shirt. The way he says it is perfect, just like in my fantasies. It’s a joke—a tease. He’s addressing what we are to each other, but not using it to take advantage of me.
