Nodding cluelessly in response, she’d later looked up “slanted cervix” at home and had been mortified and stunned. She couldn’t believe her lifelong doctor would have the audacity to think she would say something about her vagina to Crispin. She could barely talk to him about her choice of nest bedding.
She took all her vitamins—stamped with cute little blue HealthyBs—made for omega breeders like her every day. And Mother made sure she followed all the directions. All that diligent self-care had prompted the doctor to declare that Naya’s mating heat shouldn't be painful.
Mother had grumbled at that, saying, "Don't spin fairy tales you know nothing about, sir."
After her visit, the doctor had made sure Naya received a list of signs she should watch for when it came to her next heat. It wouldn't do for her to be caught unprepared. Included was an addendum of expectations. The paper read like a summary of everything Naya learned in her science and health class. Mother had huffed, complaining that in her day, they were just told to watch for hard cramping and an embarrassing amount of slick.
Then her mother had handed Naya a stack of padded underwear. The extra thick lining in the crotch reminded Naya of a diaper. Mother had said that while men loved to see a girl leaving a trail of slime wherever the sweet young thing went,shedidn’t want that mess all overherfloors and furniture.
Biology had dictated the entire course of her life. Naya would grow up, choose a mate, satisfy their physical demands, get pregnant, and bring little baby alphas and omegas into the world. She would strengthen the 12 Sectors and contribute to society.
Live happily ever after.
It wasn't like Naya secretly harbored other ambitions. She liked the idea of her own home, of becoming a mother, of taking a mate who adored her. But the pressure to fulfill her role felt like a vise around her heart, one which grew tighter each day.
Her mother and sister had both done it and survived, and happily—more or less.
The weight of her mother's regard made her start. She'd lost herself in the litany of worry again. Mother was a breath away from calling out her dithering.
Gathering the yarn, Naya hurried back to her seat. Mother insisted appearances and self-control were everything.
Crispin would help Naya establish their own home, her own little territory where she could choose her furnishings and cook their meals how she wanted them. There was no reason to run and hide from him. Rather, she should run to the door and embrace her intended husband-mate with enthusiasm.
Only her mother’s presence kept Naya from overcompensating for her lack of enthusiasm. Outbursts were not lady-like.
"That dress is a bit tight across the bodice, dear one," Mother said. In her lap, the older woman punched her needle through the fabric stretched tight on her embroidery hoop.
Naya frowned down at her impossible cleavage, smoothing the gaping fabric. Her first estrus had reshaped her body drastically and it still felt like a foreign, unfamiliar thing. She'd already cut the threads and loosened the bodice of this dress once, adding a new edging of pale sage-colored silk for modesty.
A year ago, she'd boasted nothing but bee stings for breasts. Now she had a shape that drew everyone's attention.
Not only could men see the obvious changes, but they could smell them. She washed twice daily and doused herself in a concoction said to dampen omega pheromones, but nothing helped.
As a child, even at seventeen years of age, she'd been invisible to civilized males. She could wear what she wanted, go with her older sister where she wanted, and pass through crowds without worrying about the attention of aggressive, unmated males. Having big breasts and a big butt changed everything.
Naya regretted not enjoying those childhood freedoms more. Even before the change, her mother had thought girls should stay in the home and not roam about as they pleased. Naya had spent her time in the kitchen learning to cook, working on patterns for her knitting, and reading love stories in her favorite chair. She’d stayed home like a proper daughter instead of seeing anything of the 12 Sectors she wished to explore.
Now because of her pheromones, she'd be homebound until her first pregnancy changed her scent and broadcasted her status as a bride-mate.
The door knocker rapped, but Naya stayed in her seat. It wasn't her place to get the door; that duty belonged to the household servants. She'd wait for the servant to escort the men to the parlor as was proper, even though there was only a short wall between this room and the entryway.
Crispin and his father soon rounded the corner, their alpha presence filling up the feminine space. Though they were men of affluence, they were both dressed semi-casually in long, loose pants perfectly hemmed above their boots and rain-dampened dark wool coats. Their dress and stature broadcasted their alpha nature and status to everyone who crossed their path.
Naya had always thought Crispin’s long, lean body looked fine in his clothes. He smiled when he saw her, his face congenial and open. For an alpha, his demeanor was far from intimidating—he was pleasant to look upon, even though he was a foot taller than herself.
The man next to him was only a half-inch taller than his son. He had the same color hair clipped tidily at his neck, and the same nose. His brow was heavier than Crispin's, his cheeks fuller, and the lines between his eyebrows and bracketing his mouth ran deeper than the younger man’s.
Naya waited for the men to speak first.
"Naya. Mistress," Crispin greeted them.
His presence reminded her how much she liked him. Crispin was calm and good. Everything would work out. Nature would take its course. All would be fine.
Naya watched her mother from the corner of her eye and stood in tandem with her.
“Crispin, Corre, welcome to our home,” Mother said. “I'm sure you know that my alpha is at his tasks. But you are welcome here, of course. Would you like to sit?”
With a practiced, genteel elegance, Naya's mother gestured toward a nearby couch, glancing at a servant waiting behind the two visitors. With just that look, she commanded them to take the gentlemen's coats and sent them off for food and drink.
