Page 41 of Knot So Social

“I see. And before that?”

“Umm . . .” Tears sting my eyes and I grip the edge of my chair with one hand. “I had a few years where I managed on my own. And then, after I first presented . . . I had a pack.”

A time of my life I’d rather forget about.

“You’re doing great, honey. I need to ask a few more questions, if you feel you can go on.” The woman on the other end of the phone pauses until I say I can keep going. “If I asked you to pick one of the following three words to describe your heats in general, which one would you choose? Enjoyable, intense, or uncomfortable?”

Once, a long time ago when I first had a pack, enjoyable would’ve been the world. Back when I had a nest and thought I was in love with men who claimed I was all they ever wanted in a woman. In an omega.

Now I whisper, “Uncomfortable.”

“Thanks for sharing that with me, and I’m sorry if this is at all difficult. To best help you, we need to complete a preferences survey, which we can do over the phone, or if you’d rather, we have one available on our website.”

“I can get a home visit, right?” I blurt out.

She pauses. “We do our utmost to provide that service, yes. I do need to warn you that we’re a little short staffed for home visits, especially if you require a moderator.”

“What’s a moderator?”

“That’s if you want someone to supervise your interactions with the service officer. Some omegas prefer to have a third party—”

My stomach lurches. “Fuck no.”

“Okay, no moderator. I’ll note that on your file.”

I close my eyes. Probably should’ve thought that through, because being alone with a stud alpha might be worse, but so much of my life gets filmed and viewed, I don’t think I could handle a stranger watching me have sex.

But can I handle an alpha in my bed any better?

“Would you like to go through the other questions with me now?”

Her polite, cheerful tone relaxes me. Even my snappy attitude isn’t putting the clerk off. It’s enough to answer her questions without too much embarrassment. Preferences, boundaries, hard limits, and of course medical notes. I sheepishly add anxiety and panic attacks to the list. If just the thought of going into heat could send me up the walls, how will I manage when the real deal arrives?

And then the dreaded question. “When do you think your heat is due?”

“Three days,” I mumble. That’s when the current set of blockers wear off.

She clears her throat, and the tone isn’t as upbeat as before.

“Is there a problem?”

“Well, as I mentioned before, we’re a little short staffed. Could I give you a call back before 5 pm to confirm what we can offer? I’m sorry, usually I would give you a list of alpha profiles to choose from, but . . . well, let me give you a call back?”

“Sure.”

After hanging up, I dig my fingernail into a small crack in my armrest. If Heat Wave can’t help me, what can I do? Scarf pheromone blockers like they’re food?

I push Mr Shares off my lap and limp through my house, headed toward the south wing. I haven’t touched anything here in the five years since I moved in; the house is too big for one person and at the time, I didn’t need spare bedrooms.

Or the nest.

Rolling my bottom lip between my teeth, I reach for the door. Dread makes my hand clammy as I turn the ornate handle. A nest is supposed to be an omega’s pride and joy, her safe haven.

But mine never was. Not once.

Chapter thirteen

Jeremy