That morning there are photography classes for couples.
It is another one of the so-called bonding activities they run here regularly.
The whole group is divided into four smaller parts of about twenty people.
Each is assigned one of the entertainment coordinators, and we end up with Hugh.
I decide it is worth staying on good terms with him, since he is responsible for kitchen supplies and usually knows the ferry schedules well in advance, so I keep a positive attitude, almost friendly, which is a lot for me, especially with everything that has been going on lately.
Eliano and I don’t talk about what happened, and the wholeheat topicdoesn’t come up even once during breakfast.
Mostly because I’m still clinging to the idea that thiscan’t be it.
Heats are supposed to be the kind of thing where omegas can’t do anything but lie there and take it, with waves so intense they knock them clean off their feet. And not getting off? That’s meant to come with some serious physical pain.
However… beta heats, if they happen at all, affect only about two percent of the beta population and are described as mostlysubtle, with rare exceptions.
So what’s going on? Am I one of the crazy cases?
Sure, if I were thinking straight, I’d have to admit it’s a pretty weird coincidence. Why the hell would I suddenly go into heat just a few days after meeting Eliano? Any sensible person would probably take that as a sign that something seriously unusual is going on with my beta body, which has been perfectly normal for the past twenty-two years. And if I were evenmorereasonable, I might actually dig into it and figure out that a miracle like that has only one explanation: powerful pheromonal stimulation from my True Mate.
But no!
Since I havezerointerest in being reasonable, I shove those thoughts aside like a complete idiot and head into the photography session as if I don’t have a single problem in the world.
We are all given fairly high-quality digital cameras meant for professional photography.
Each group heads in a different direction, some toward the hills, others to the rocky points of the island, while our group is sent to the beach.
That’s where the shoot is supposed to take place, and of course, the whole thing has a strong erotic undertone.
We are encouraged to take photos in very minimal outfits.
Usually the alpha is the one behind the camera, though not always.
Sometimes they switch roles.
Eliano, though, flat-out refuses to be photographed, and that’s when it finally dawns on me that he’s actually insecure about his looks, which I didn’t exactly see coming.
When I push him a little, he admits, kinda awkwardly, that the scars on his back are the main reason he won’t do a nude shoot.
Or any shoot, really, because there’s also the whole ear situation.
He needs to explain it to me like I’m five, since I don’t see much wrong with them. Maybe a tiny unevenness, nothing crazy, but it clearly is a big deal for him.
He tells me the corrective surgery didn’t fully fix the problem.
Apparently, in grappling and wrestling, ears get wrecked all the time, cartilage smashed over and over until they just stay deformed.
Eliano hates that look.
To him, it’s like wearing his past on the outside, and he’d rather bury that for good.
Hugh comes over and suggests an arrangement where I lie on the blanket wearing nothing but speedos.
We are positioned at some distance from the others for privacy, with couples spread out evenly across a stretch of beach.
So we settle that Eliano will be in charge of the photo session.
