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Aftermynightofdrinking and my surprisingly pleasant lunch with Rome, I feel on top of the world. Well, I would if I didn’t have these weird cramps and a persistent headache. I’m probably just hungover and need to sleep off all that wine.
On Sunday, I lazed around the house, not feeling up to much of anything. My back was killing me and bright lights hurt my eyes. Migraines fucking sucked.
Rome texted me a few times but looking at my phone screen hurt my eyes, so I sent him a voice note to tell him I had a migraine, but it would be gone after some meds and sleep and I would see him at work the following day.
Monday morning, I wake up drenched in sweat and cramps that are far worse than any I’ve had before. Tossing my legs off the side of the bed, I bend over double to try to alleviate some of the pain, the cramps making my body quiver with their intensity.
When the worst has passed, I amble to the bathroom, holding on to the wall while I get the shower started. I’m late for work, but that’s fine. I’ll just try to charm Rome and use our bond to get out of trouble.
Yep, I’m pulling the fated mates card.
Cramps riddle my body while I’m in the shower, but I chalk it up to it being the same cramps as I’ve been having these past few months. They’re unfortunate, but Dr. Stevens will have news for me about that soon.
After I’m clean, I towel off, rubbing my hair until it’s damp, then drag myself from the bathroom. Fuck, these cramps are a bitch. Instead of dissipating as time goes on, they seem to be ramping up.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I put my head in my hands, breathing through the pain and hoping it doesn’t last too long. I really do need to get to work.
Then it happens.
The cramps reach a high, twisting my insides. But that’s not all. My hole clenches and I feel slick leak from me, soaking into the towel—I still haven’t gotten dressed yet.
Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. I’m in heat and have no one to help me. I have toys, but the one with the knot is out of batteries. I may or may not use it even when I’m not in heat.
With shaky hands, I pick up my phone and open my calendar app, checking to see if I wrote down my next heat date. When I look, I see that I blocked the week off for my heat, telling myself to either call a heat service or get supplies so I can ride these next few days out.
I’m not sure how long it will last. Since I have Weylet’s, my heats last longer and are more severe than an omega that doesn’t.
I clench my phone, trying to figure out what to do when it rings in my hand. Jumping—then hissing when a cramp pulses in my guts—I look down at my screen and see Rome’s number.
Yes! Yes, I have a mate. I can ask him to take me through my heat.
But what if he ends up like that last alpha? What if I hurt him because of my Weylet’s? Regardless of if he drives me up the wall, I wouldn’t want him to be hurt. For my last heat, I didn’t know I was putting someone in harm’s way. I know the risks now. I don’t think I can face it.
I send his call to voicemail.
Lying back, I tuck my legs against my middle and hold myself.
I’m not sure how I forgot my heat was approaching. I guess with the news I got, meeting Tanner, getting drunk and my date with Rome, it slipped my mind. Dr. Stevens told me it could go either way—I could either have a clinically normal heat or I could still have the heat severity I’ve had for the past two cycles, longer and more painful.
Looks like we have our answer.
I really thought the surgery would at least fix that. It didn’t help with my ability to conceive, but I thought for sure I would be rid of these long, painful heats. It just started, but the cramps and pain I’m having now is on par with the other heat cycles, so I’m counting on it being just as long. Maybe I can have some batteries delivered so I can use my knotting dildo. But fuck, that’s a lot of moving to get to all my toys. I put them away since Brandon moved out, using his room as extra storage.
The ringing phone startles me out of my thoughts and I feel around for my phone so I don’t have to move from my comfortable spot. Unfortunately for me, I knock it on the floor. It stops ringing but starts up again almost immediately. I roll to sitting, taking several deep breaths to try to work through the pain.
By the time I have it together, my phone stopped ringing and started again. Sweat dips from my brow as I answer the phone. “Yes?” I ask, barely suppressing a grunt.
“Benjamin? You okay?”
I fix my mouth to say yes, to brush Rome off, but I can’t make myself lie. “No.”
“No?” he asks, voice full of surprise. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“I’m … home.” I bend over, holding my stomach as a powerful cramp twists my insides.
“What’s wrong? What is it?” Rome’s voice is serious, like he needs me to answer his question honestly.
I do. “I’m … I … Need … need …”
