Page 39 of Knot So Social

“Don’t worry. I threw your blockers away.” Phil flashed a bright smile that day, as if he’d truly done me a favor. “You don’t need that junk anymore, Willow, so just let it all out.”

They loved the way I became a shivering mess, begging for their knots.

“No, no,” I mutter, shaking off the daze, and shoving pill bottles aside in my desperation to reach the heat blockers.

The medication shouldn’t have worn off already. Containers fall to the floor, clattering as they roll. My fingers close on the familiar pink label, and I yank the tub out. With my hands shaking so much, the writing blurs, making the tiny words impossible to read. Forget the dosage, I need to stop this, now.

I pour three pills out and lean over the sink to cup water directly from the spout into my mouth. Bracing on the bench, I count each breath to calm myself.

I have to look at this logically. A freak accident shut down my heats, as well as the rest of my cycle. But that was years ago. Bodies heal. This is a good sign, right? I run shaky fingers down my leg, where the lightning strike seared its presence into my skin in weird, lumpy patterns. The scars will never heal, but my internal systems are moving forward.

That’s a fact I need to acknowledge. And for whatever reason, the pheromone blockers aren’t having the usual effect. Maybe I left it too late, in which case, these pills are only delaying the inevitable.

“Doctor first.” I groan and lean my forehead on my arms. “Alpha service second.”

Alessandro’s scent lingers in my nose, salty and natural, like inhaling a day at the beach. A faint throb echoes through my core. What would have happened if I’d taken him up on his offer to help? The thought of his sun-drenched body sliding over mine brings the heat of summer right into my belly.

But no, I cannot allow any ties. He’s seen too much already. I need confidentiality and professionalism. No strings, no gossip.

I wobble my way to my desk and dial my physician’s office. Amazingly, she’s available to take my call.

“Willow? Is everything all right?”

I choke down a sob. “No, it’s terrible. I’m going into heat.”

“Okay, slow down. You’re experiencing heat symptoms? Could you walk me through them?”

I grind my teeth to hold back a frustrated scream. After a lifetime of being an omega, I know how to identify heat symptoms. The muted, rational part of me understands the doctor’s just doing her job but the rest of me worries I’ll go into heat immediately. On my own, without an alpha to sate my out-of-control pheromones?

I could die.

“Willow, I need you to breathe in and out, nice and slowly. Hold in between breaths for the count of two, if you can.”

Shit, I’m spiraling again, aren’t I?

I clutch the edge of my desk and suck air into my lungs, counting in a box pattern. In, hold, out, hold. Mr Shares runs into the room and winds his warm body between my knees, licking gently at my hands. The bam-bam of my heart pounding in my ears slowly recedes.

“Are you with me, Willow?”

“Yeah,” I rasp.

“Good job. You’re doing really well. Do you think you can run your vitals for me?”

“Okay, I think I can now.” I shuffle over to my medical cupboard with my faithful dog glued to my thigh and pull out the blood pressure monitor and thermometer.

100 degrees, and of course my blood pressure’s elevated after a near-panic attack. But the temperature isn’t as high as I feared. When I test again in a few minutes, it’s back to 99 degrees.

“Okay,” Doc Fiona says, drawing my attention back. “It does look like you’re going into heat. The blockers will temporarily delay the process, but it’s my recommendation that you go through with it as soon as possible. I know the situation might not be great, but this is a really good sign that your body's recovering.”

I groan and plop into my chair. Mr Shares climbs up onto my lap like he’s puppy-sized, but I hug him close to my chest to hold his bulk in place.

“Do you have any alpha friends you might be comfortable enough to ask for help?”

Alessandro’s face pops into my mind, but I wave it away. “No, I don’t.”

Admitting the truth stings a little. Once upon a time I was friendly, outgoing, social. Now I’m the opposite.

“Well, since you’re not able to find a date, I suggest trying Heat Wave.”