“Of course.”
“What kind of side effects are you having?”
“Headaches, mostly,” I reply, the lie coming easier now. “And some mood disturbances. Nothing serious, but enough that my doctor recommended that I explore alternatives.”
She nods thoughtfully. “We have several herbal blends that might help. They’re not as powerful as prescription suppressants, of course, but they can take the edge off symptoms.”
She walks toward one of the aisles, clearly expecting me to follow. I do, but with each step, I feel increasingly exposed. What if she asks more specific questions? What if she recognizes that I’m not just looking for supplements to manage rare symptoms, but to prevent a full-blown heat?
“Actually,” I interject, stopping in my tracks, “would you mind if I just looked around myself for a bit? I’d like to read the labels and get familiar with what’s available.”
Caroline pauses, turning back to me with a kind smile. “Of course, dear. Take your time. I’ll be at the counter if you have any questions.”
Relief washes over me as she walks away. I need space to think, to figure out what might actually help without revealing too much about my situation.
I move deeper into the store, scanning product labels with the focused attention I usually reserve for medical charts. Most of the herbal supplements contain combinations of black cohosh, dong quai, and chasteberry—ingredients I recognize and already know won’t be of much use to me.
As I examine a bottle of something called Heat Ease, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Someone is watching me.
I glance around casually, trying not to appear paranoid, but I can’t shake the sensation of being watched. The two other customers I noticed earlier are now engaged in conversation with Caroline at the counter, their attention nowhere near me.
Still, the feeling persists. Is it just my anxiety playing tricks on me, or has someone recognized me? In a town this small, word travels fast. What if someone saw me at the pharmacy asking for suppressants and has connected the dots?
Pulling out my prescription, I double-check the dosage and then pull out my phone to look up the active ingredient of the Heat Ease. It contains an herb that is actually chemically similar to my suppressant and is approved in the European Union as an herbal product to treat mild heat symptoms.
This might actually work if I take enough of it.
I wander deeper into the store, telling myself I’m only browsing out of professional curiosity. Heat biology falls within my medical expertise, after all. I’m just...expanding my knowledge base. For science.
But as I move past shelves of nesting fabrics toward a wall display of very familiar toys, my body betrays me. The familiar ache of arousal tightens low in my belly as I stare at the array of organ-shaped objects designed specifically for omega biology.
This is ridiculous. I’m a doctor. I should be able to look at anatomically correct silicone without blushing like a teenager.
I pick up a modestly sized toy, turning it over in my hands with what I hope appears to be clinical detachment. The toy is surprisingly spongy, almost skin-like in texture.
“That’s one of our bestsellers.”
I nearly drop the toy as Caroline materializes beside me again. How does everyone in this town move so quietly?
“For first-timers,” she continues, either not noticing or politely ignoring my flaming cheeks. “It’s a good place to start for betas who are interested in exploring designation play.”
My mouth goes dry. “Designation play?”
“Oh sure. We get quite a few betas who are curious about what it feels like for an omega. Role-playing can be very liberating.” She smiles knowingly. “The knot simulator on this model is modest but functional. Very popular with couples where one partner wants to experience what it might be like with an alpha.”
I stare at the toy in my hands, mortified yet unable to put it down. The rational part of my brain knows I should correct her assumption, explain that I don’t need this, that I’m only here for supplements.
Instead, I hear myself say, “Sure, I’ll take it.”
Caroline’s smile widens. “Excellent choice. Anything else catch your eye?”
“Nope, nothing. I really should be getting home, it’s late.” I mumble, desperate to end this conversation.
“Perfect. I’ll ring you up.”
I follow her to the counter, the toy and bottle of supplements clutched in white-knuckled hands. As she begins scanning items, I set everything down to dig through my bag for my wallet.
