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“You can do this. You’re a boss ass bitch that’s not intimidated by stranger dick.”
I stood frozen on the clinic steps, staring at the doors, apprehension bubbling like a cauldron in my gut.
How the fuck was this fair? Maybe I didn’t want to be an omega. I could’ve been a beta and skipped out on all this nonsense. But no. Genetics just really needed to screw with me.
The woman at the front desk noticed my loitering, and it took all my willpower not to bolt as she walked toward me to pull open the door. She bobbed her head, her grey-streaked auburn strands swinging as she offered me a brilliant smile.
“Can I help you, dear?”
The simple question had my brain forgetting every word I had ever learned.
She tilted her head to the side in confusion while I wrestled with the tangled yarn ball inside my mind.
I dropped my gaze, staring at my feet to give myself an extra moment to think without seeing somebody watch me. “I’m supposed to have my first heat soon,” I murmured.
“How wonderful!” She beamed. “I assume you’re here because you’d like to procure our services?”
I swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”
I focused on examining the scuffs on my shoes, imagining roots coming out the soles, embracing every ounce of fortitude I possessed so I wouldn’t turn and run full speed back home. It was a good thing I’d opted to walk instead of drive because it had given me time to work off some of my nervous energy. The last thing I needed today was to start crying while driving and jump a curb or something.
The woman set gentle fingertips on my shoulder and I jolted.
“Would you like to come inside? Or do you need a minute?” she asked.
Another minute would give me more time to panic. It was probably better to get this over with. I sucked in a breath that was supposed to calm me, but didn’t actually do that, and then I squared my shoulders, feigning confidence. “I’m ready.”
I wasn’t.
“My name is Muriel.” The woman smiled again. “I’m an omega as well. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. The staff here are very knowledgeable and excellent at their work.”
“Yeah, that’s what the website says.” I had spent a few hours scouring it last night, but even the piles of testimonials didn’t stop me from dragging my feet as I entered the clinic. I contemplated asking if Muriel had used the clinic’s heat helpers before to back up your claim, but I didn’t particularly want the mental images that would accompany a yes.
Panic fizzed in my gut.
I’d been chickening out of coming here for two weeks already, and the only reason I was here now was because my doctor had phoned to check if I’d made any arrangements. When I’d confessed I hadn’t, they’d lost their shit on me—in the most professional way possible. Still, it was enough to motivate me.
So here I was…
Great.
Loved this for me.
Muriel led me to the front desk and handed over a clipboard full of paperwork to fill out. Grateful for the opportunity to delay any further conversation, I sat and scribbled out the information. Most of it was medical, with an uncomfortably in-depth section on sexual history and preferences that I left blank.
Muriel looked it all over when I passed it back. “You missed a spot, dear.”
“Nope. Nothing to fill out. I’m as pure as the driven snow.”
Oh god.
What was wrong with me?
My face pinched, self-loathing from my words creeping up.
“That explains the additional nervousness.” Muriel smiled warmly. “Please come with me.”
I trotted along behind her, and Muriel took me to a room where one wall was full of tiny containers.
