by Amy Bellows
“If it’s too soon—”
He shuts the door in my face.
Did I do something wrong? I thought the evening went well. I head back down the driveway to where my mother is parked and climb inside the passenger’s seat.
“He just slammed the door in your face. What did you do?” she asks.
“I don’t know.”
She backs up and begins the drive home. “What did you say just now? Right before he shut the door?”
“I told him I wanted to make my decision this weekend.”
She glares at me. “Exactly like that?”
“Yes. How else was I supposed to say it?”
She flips her blinker on as she turns out of the trailer park. “Does he know you intend to pick him?”
“I’m sure he has a good idea. We’ve had coffee together every day for a week, and tonight’s dinner—”
“Does he know you haven’t spent time with any other omegas?”
“Don’t you think it would be best to not mention it? I don’t want to scare him off.”
She pulls over to the side of the road and puts the car in park.
“Honey, this isn’t the kind of thing you play close to the chest. That boy knows what you’d have to give up to be with him. If I was in his shoes, I wouldn’t be counting my chickens.”
Why is she telling me this? I thought she didn’t want me to be with Tatum.
“Does this mean you’d be okay with me bonding to him?”
She leans back in her seat. “Don’t ask me that right now.”
“Why?”
“Because I thoroughly enjoyed eating dinner with him and his mother.”
She isn’t making sense.
“Why does that mean I shouldn’t ask you right now?”
She turns on her blinker and pulls back onto the road. “Because I completely understand why you’d throw away your career for that kid. Your chemistry with him was… well, it’s hard to see your son that happy with someone and tell him to throw it away.”
I smile. Even my mother can see it, and she was completely against Tatum in the beginning.
“Text him, son. Tell him you want to speed up the decision because of your feelings for him.”
“But won’t I come on too strong—”
“Damien, you want to bond with him. If there is ever a time to come on strong, it’s now.”
I pull out my phone and send two text messages.
The decision to move everything up was because of you.
You’re my choice.
There isn’t a response for almost ten minutes. Finally, Tatum sends me a photo of his face. His cheeks are wet, but the smile on his face is so brilliant, it takes my breath away. A text message comes next.
You make me so happy. You’re my choice too.
20
Damien
A year ago I was hired by an infertile alpha who wanted help getting his omega pregnant. In the end, my services weren’t needed, but we met several times afterward to discuss their experience. I’ve purchased bookcases from the alpha, who makes beautiful custom woodwork by hand. And the omega, Simon Seymore, runs a bookmobile for children in rural. Over time, I’ve come to see him as a friend, not just a source of information for my research.
On Monday morning, I sit across from Simon, as well as the very pregnant omega who’s the real reason I’m here.
The pregnant omega reaches across the table and shakes my hand. “I’m Isaac Evans. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Damien Ringdal.”
We’re at a coffee shop that hosts poetry workshops for teenagers, compliments of Isaac. They also serve lunch. An alpha with glossy black hair and a T-shirt, far too tight for his wide shoulders, sets baskets in front of each of us. They all have a croissant sandwich and cut vegetables. As the alpha pulls his hand away, I notice three deep scars on his scent gland.
A bond-cut alpha. I’ve met plenty of bond-cut omegas, but never a bond-cut alpha. How unusual.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Sure thing. You guys need anything else? I’ve got some cranberry muffins I baked a few hours ago.”
Isaac groans. “Why? Don’t you see that I’m already as big as a house?”
The alpha laughs and winks at me. “Three cranberry muffins, then?”
“Yes,” Isaac says. “You have to remind me that we can’t come to this place, Simon. It’s too dangerous. You’ll have to roll me out of here. Like a bowling ball.”
Simon simply smiles and takes a bite of his sandwich.
On his way to get the muffins, the alpha pulls a dishtowel out of his back pocket and wipes down a few tables. He sings along to the coffee shop’s instrumental music in scat and skips a little after the last table. Simon watches him closely, the smile still firm on his face.
“He’s awfully chipper today,” Isaac whispers to Simon.
Simon nods.
“You know something you’re not telling me, don’t you?”
Simon nods again.
“Damn it. Well, let’s get down to business. Simon says you want to start a YouTube channel about the history of sex work. Is that right?”
Of course, that’s the moment I choose to take a bite of my sandwich. My mouth is full of croissant and cheese. I hold up one finger and chew for a second before swallowing. “Yes. I’d like to call it The Heat Professor. Since I used to be a heat companion.”
That gets Simon’s attention. “Wait. Are you not anymore?”
“No. I found an omega I want to bond to, so I’ll need to discontinue my heat companion work. But I’m hoping a channel like this will help me continue my advocacy for sex workers. I contacted the woman you suggested in your email—”
Isaac interrupts me. “Did Simon recommend Deb?”
Simon rolls his eyes. “Of course I recommended Deb.”
Isaac gestures for me to continue.
“Anyway, we’re scheduled to film later this week. I was hoping for some advice.”
I’m lucky to meet with Isaac Evans. He runs one of the most popular channels on YouTube.
The bond-cut alpha returns with three enormous muffins that have lots of crumbly bits and cranberries on the top. They look divine. Maybe I’ll bring Tatum back here.
Isaac takes one from him and whistles. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Julian, you are a magician.”
We each take a muffin from Julian. Isaac starts chowing down right away, and Simon sets his on his plate.
“I can’t believe I still have a month left before I’m due. I’ve never been this big before. I’m so done with this twin thing. Rhett and I meant to have two children. Two. This is going to be five. When they do a vasectomy, you can’t have sex for a week after your alpha gets snipped. Wish someone would have told me that.”
Simon covers his mouth with his hand, probably to hold back a laugh. Poor Isaac. Five kids is a lot. I wonder if Tatum wants children.
“Damien needs advice about his YouTube channel,” Simon reminds Isaac.
“Oh, right. Obviously, you should come on my show. I think your idea is great, and we’d have a good time. Bring your mate if you want. Especially if he likes kids. ‘Cause we got a lot of those.”
I set my sandwich down. “Thank you. That’s an incredible opportunity.”
“Ah, don’t thank me. I don’t invite people on my show unless they’re interesting. You’re interesting. Also, Simon made me promise I’d do it because he thinks you’re a ‘great guy.’”
Simon elbows him.
“Did you just elbow a pregnant man?” Isaac says.
“An annoying pregnant man? Yes, I did. You’re so ornery the last few months of your pregnancies.”
I laugh. Julian does too from behind the counter.
“When you finish shooting your first video, send it my way. Also, email me a list of questions that would be good to ask you. My show is only available to viewers eighteen and over, so we can talk about sex. It just can’t get too graphic. YouTube tends t
o be a little more lenient if it’s educational too, so I’m not worried. What do you think? Next week? We have to do it soon, or—” He gestures to his big stomach.
“Next week is great. Whatever works for you.”
Isaac takes another big bite and pauses to chew for a while. I nibble a bit at the muffin too. It’s really good.
“Okay. You wanted some advice. First, listen to Deb. She’ll tell you if you look like shit or if your content is shit. It’s tough love, but you gotta trust her. She has really good instincts.”
Isaac spends the next hour giving me tips that completely change the way I look at YouTube videos. He may be a pretty face, but he also knows his stuff. At the end Simon tilts his head and smiles at me, as if to say, See? He’s good, right?
When they stand up, Isaac starts whining about his shoes. They’re Crocs, which makes sense because his feet are very swollen. That’s when I notice Simon has a baby bump too.
Without thinking, I say, “Are you?” Then I remember it’s never polite to ask an omega if they’re pregnant.
“Yes, I am,” Simon says.
Well, what do you know? I guess sometimes miracles come in twos.
“Congratulations.”
He beams at me and rubs his belly. “Thank you.”
They both wave to Julian before Simon takes Isaac’s arm and guides him out of the coffee shop. Isaac complains about his feet the entire way.
21
Tatum
Apparently, Damien has to meet with three omegas this week, and then that’s it. He’s mine. Forever.
On Monday afternoon when I get to my internship, I try not to bounce around like a giddy idiot. Try being the key word. I, Tatum Bloom, am going to have a mate. And not just any mate, but the sweetest, smartest, handsomest alpha in the world. Is handsomest a word? Probably not. I don’t care. I’m using it anyway because Damien deserves a new word created just for him.
He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to be the best mate. I’m going to learn how to cook gourmet meals, give him amazing blow jobs, and clean his house until it shines. I won’t spend very much money, and I’ll do my best to never be a bother. I even ordered a book on how to be a good mate, and I’m going to study it until the binding falls apart. He may have to quit his job at the university, but I’ll prove to him that bonding to me isn’t a mistake. That way, when he wakes up from whatever insanity his heat latch has caused, he won’t regret our bond.
Or I hope he won’t. It’s hard to say.
When I get to the office, Abbie is eating Chinese out of a carton with a man in a suit. She waves at me, then continues talking with him about how decriminalizing sex work would help human trafficking victims. Damien’s explained it plenty of times in class. Of course, most of the students weren’t really listening, but I agree with him. Right now, most of sex work happens outside the law, so it’s impossible for sex workers to demand safe or healthy working conditions. It’s also impossible for most Johns to tell the difference between a sex worker there by choice or the modern equivalent of a slave. The only way to change any of it is through regulation, which would only be possible with decriminalization.
I head into the first office and take off my backpack. Maybe if I can do a good job here too, Damien will see that I’ll be someone he can be proud of.
After Abbie walks her visitor to the door, she saunters over to the first office and pops her head in. “Have time to chat?”
I nod. I need to act normal. Damien will probably want to tell her about our relationship himself. Since I started a week ago, Abbie and I haven’t had time to talk about anything but work. Finding grants to support my new program has been a lot more complicated than I thought, so keeping it a secret has been relatively easy.
“Damien’s still seeing you, isn’t he? You looked like a kid on Christmas when you walked in today.”
I guess I haven’t been as secretive as I thought.
“He’s been talking with a lot of omegas during the last week, and this weekend he’s going to make a decision.”
But I’m his choice. That’s what he said. It’s probably best not to tell Abbie that.
“And you think that decision’s going to be you, don’t you?” Her voice is deadpan, cold.
“I don’t know. He said he liked me—”
“Tatum, do you have any idea what that would do to Damien’s life? He’d lose his job, and he sure as hell couldn’t volunteer here anymore. This organization is already under hard scrutiny by conservative religious groups. I can’t have an alpha who bonds with his intern on staff. Damien’s entire life is his work. Are you really comfortable taking that away from him?”
She’s right. But Damien told me he sped up his decision because he has feelings for me. Shouldn’t that mean something?
I lower my head and stare at the floor. I’ve never wanted anything or anyone the way I want Damien. Maybe it makes me a bad person, but I don’t know if I can give him up simply because it’s the right thing to do.
“Look, do whatever the hell you want with Damien, but I’d like you to think about how this is going to impact the sex worker community. He’s the ultimate advocate. He has a doctorate, he’s persuasive, and his record is spotless. Do you know how hard it is to find a sex worker like that who’s willing to speak out about their experiences? If he bonds to you, the media will hound him for dating a student. There will be nothing left of his reputation or his advocacy work when they’re done. If he was in his right mind, do you honestly think he’d subject himself to that? Let’s be honest here. You’re taking advantage of his heat latch. He’d never bond to you otherwise.”
Am I really taking advantage? She’s right—he wouldn’t bond to me under any other circumstances. Is his interest in me just his heat latch talking?
“I should go.” I try to gather my things with shaky fingers. “I didn’t mean to… I love Damien.”
Fuck, why did I say that? Abbie doesn’t care if I’m in love with him. What’s wrong with me?
“If you love him, maybe you should think about what’s best for him.”
When I got this internship, I thought it would be a stepping stone to something else—something better. But everything about it has been a mistake. Damien said my application to the SLASW is how he found my house, and it’s certainly how he knew about my cam show. If I hadn’t applied here, none of this would have happened.
I try to hold my tears back, but they slide down my face anyway. Abbie doesn’t seem fazed. To her, I’m just the stupid omega who’s going to ruin Damien’s life.
As I flee, I wish I could promise her I’d stay away from him. It would be the right thing to do. But it’s almost like Damien’s heat latch has seeped into my bones because I can’t.
When it comes to Damien Ringdal, I’ve never been able to say no.
22
Damien
My mother parks outside Angelo’s, an Italian place four blocks west of her house. Normally, the cheery flower boxes lining the windows make me happy. It’s one of my favorite places in the world. But tonight I sit absolutely still and stare at the restaurant with a sick dread in my stomach.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. It’s not the end of the world. It’s just dinner. You’ll be in and out in less than an hour,” she says.
I have to do this, or my mother will never accept my relationship with Tatum. Besides, the academic librarian seemed nice, and our mothers are friends from church. I’m sure he’ll be pleasant company.
None of that quells the lump in my stomach, though.
“What will you say if I don’t go in?” I ask.
“You will not leave that poor man hanging. Camilla said he hasn’t been on a proper date in three years. He isn’t very social.”
What a glowing endorsement.
“Mom, I don’t think I can do this. I want to be with Tatum.”
She reaches across the console and unlatches my door. “Go. Now.”
If I thought there was any chance my mother woul
d allow it, I’d stay in the car. But the only way this is going to end is if I go eat dinner with this man. I take in a deep breath and climb out of the car. As I get closer to the restaurant, I begin to feel nauseous. What is going on?
A tall, slender man with brown skin and glasses walks toward the door. He looks a lot like the picture my mother showed me of my date tonight.
“Auggie?” Or should I call him Augustine? Auggie was his nickname. What is the protocol for that? As I try to walk closer to him, my vision swims.
“Are you all right?” Auggie or Augustine asks.
“I don’t know. I feel a little dizzy.” I close my eyes and massage them with my fingertips.
Auggie/Augustine lays a gentle hand on my back. “How about we get you inside, okay? I’m sure you’ll feel better when you eat something.”
My stomach lurches. I turn my head to avoid vomiting on him, but I’m confused about my directions at this point, and I throw up directly onto his button-up shirt.
“Okay. You are clearly very sick. Is there anyone I can call to pick you up?”
The sound of clacking heels approach and with horror I realize my mother is running toward me.
“Damien! Are you okay? I didn’t realize you were so sick!”
Auggie’s eyes dart back and forth between my mother and me. “Is that—”
“My mother? Yes. It’s a long story.”
Auggie steps back. “You know, I’m gonna go.”
Poor guy. Three years without a proper date, and now this.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Auggie looks pointedly at my right wrist where a brown stain has seeped through the fabric of my shirt. “Maybe because you’re cheating on your mate.”
What is going on? Tatum and I never bonded. I only sucked on his neck, didn’t I? I unbutton my right sleeve and pull it up. My scent gland is weeping brown liquid, just like an alpha who tries to kiss or have sex with an omega outside his bond.