Page 19

Fake.

As Grandma and the Monarchs taught me in action and deed, I am not my dynamic. But there is also nothing wrong with enjoying the intense pleasure that Omegas experience through heats, which will also save my life.

For the first time, excitement blossoms through my anxiety.

I glance around with more interest at the sleek, glass walls of the Heat Wave Clinic.

I wince.

My nerves feel like they are being grated.

Although the lighting is natural, and the scents diffused, this isn’t Acorn Inn.

It isn’t home.

And I haven’t been outside for so long.

“If you could just fill out these forms.” A secretary with gray hair and thick glasses shoves a mountain of paperwork across the dark walnut front desk toward me.

I flinch back.

“I’ll take those.” Sophie deftly steps in front of me, picking up the pen. She does her habit of clicking it on and off three times. “Wow, there’s a lot.”

The secretary simply gives her a bright smile.

“So, we can just go home…?” I say, hopefully.

Sophie shoves her hair behind her ear, giving me a firm look over her shoulder. “Hold your horses, Omega escapee. I have a taser in my bag and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“You have a taser?” The secretary demands, alarmed.

“She’s joking,” I rush to say.

She isn’t.

My sister may be sweet with animals. She isn’t sweet with Alphas who fuck with Omegas.

I only wish that she’d been able to film the night she found Devlin hanging around Acorn Inn and tasered his knot.

I heard the yowl.

The only thing that worries me is that even a fried dick wasn’t enough to stop Devlin’s obsession with me.

Being bonded to Beau kept him away, but I’m not bonded now.

Suddenly, the fear is back.

I pace from one side of the reception to the other.

Sophie flicks through the forms. “It says here that your appointment is on the second floor in a special Trauma Recovery Center. You’re meeting with Dr. Meredith Lawson. She’s some top trauma specialist who looks at your profile and matches it to the pack, as well as your scents⁠—”

“I’m out.” I turn on my heel.

“Paige Berry.” Sophie straightens, barking out my full original pack name. Unfair, that was Dad’s trick. “Are you planning to walk all the way back to Oak Hollow? Impressive.”

I tilt up my chin. “You’re the one who is always insisting that I get outside for more fresh air.”

Sophie raps the forms. “This clinical psychologist is trained in making sure that the pack she matches you with will see you through the heat in three weeks without you flinching, tearing up the nest, clawing off their knots…”