I frown. “What kind of fucking question is that?”
“Standard,” he replies evenly. “Did you experience any rage toward him? Any disgust? Indifference to his scent or taste? Did he seem overly sweet or bitter at anypoint?”
My lip curls. “Nothing like that,” I say flatly. “There wasn’t a single second I felt anything but drawn to him.”
Vance raises a brow, waiting for me to elaborate.
I cross my arms, jaw tight. “He’s the only thing I want to see, taste, and fuck from now until the end of fucking time.”
That earns a small, satisfied smile from the alpha. “That’s what I like to hear,” Vance says. “It suggests you’re a strong scent-match. When there’s no aversion and no aggression during heat, the bond is typically stable.”
Some of the tightness in my chest eases at that.
Stable.
Good.
“And your knot?” he continues calmly.
My eyes narrow. “What about it?”
“Size. Coloration. Sensation during lock. Did it inflate evenly? Any pain? Excessive pressure?”
I push a slow breath out through my nose. “It was healthy.”
“That’s not a measurement.”
“It swelled fully. Darkened like it’s supposed to and locked tight.” I shrug. “No pain. Just pressure.”
“Duration?”
I hesitate.
“How long were you knotted to your omega?” he presses.
My patience snaps. “Jesus Christ. Do you want to see my fucking dick?”
Vance’s voice lifts, pleased, “Honestly, it would help.”
“Fuck off,” I growl.
The corner of his mouth twitches like he expected that response. “I’ll take your word for it. Approximately how long?”
I drag a hand down my face. “Long enough. Normal range.”
He studies me for another moment, then nods, apparently satisfied.
“Are we done?” I ask.
“Almost.” He grabs a few documents out of a nearby drawer, handing them to me. “Fill these out. Bond acknowledgment, medical disclosure, reproductive consent.”
I grab a pen from him and start signing without reading half of it.
“If everything looks good with your mate’s screening,” Vance says, “we’ll file with the state registry and finalize the mating. It usually takes a few business days.”
I stop writing. “And then he’s legally mine?” I ask.
“Yes.”
