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I cringe with my whole body. “Probably. Three sounds good. No more than four…”
I expect some form of judgment. At least a raised eyebrow. I’m basically admitting I need three grown alphas to keep me satisfied…
But Celine smiles again, pleased with my honesty. “We’ll omit any packs that include industrial scents and limit our search to all-alpha packs of three to four.”
“Excellent,” she goes on. “Now, heat history and preferences. How many heats have you had, Remi?”
“Um,” I squeak, counting. “Three a year since I was sixteen. So, more than twenty?”
The alpha levels me with a look of deep concern. “All on your own?”
I don’t know why her sympathy makes me want to cry, but I have to swallow down a thick wash of sadness. “Yes. I use medication to dull the pain, and suppressants to keep me lucid and safe at home.”
She seems to sense I’m not finished and waits for me to go on. I swallow hard, forcing my voice not to shake. “A few years ago, one of the doctors at the free clinic recommended I do an unsupressed cycle, to help ensure the suppressants’ continued success in the future. I ended up going to a heat clinic and?—”
Remembered sensations sweep through my body. Shooting pains from my elbows—chafed from hours of presenting. The shivery claustrophobia of my small, sterile cage. Rough hands on my hips, bruising. Squelching soreness in my core.
“—it wasn’t for me,” I finish weakly. “I’ve taken care of myself ever since.”
Grief darkens Celine’s eyes. “Not for much longer, okay? I promise we’ll find you just what you need.”
She seems so sure. I try to absorb that certainty and let it soothe me. “Okay. What’s next?”
“Next, we’ll collect your scent sample and put it into our system, along with all of this personal information. If there’s a match, it will pop right up, and we’ll call them in!”
My heart seizes in my chest. “Call them… as in, right now? Today?”
“Yes, right now. Today.” She smiles, the expression knowing. “My guess? They’ll rush right over.”
chapter
eight
“This. Is. Ah-mazing.”
You know, sometimes, it really seems like my best friend just likes to watch the world burn.
“Meg!” I hiss into my phone, pacing. “You never told me they were going to match me today! For fluff’s sake, I didn’t shave my legs!”
She snorts. “Is there a sink in that suite?”
“MEG!”
“Okay, okay,” she chuckles. “I admit, I didn’t research the exact timeline. But listen, it’s going to be fine. What’s the worst-case scenario here? She plugs your info into their system, and you leave with scent-matched alphas who are scientifically guaranteed to adore you?”
Well, when she puts it like that.
Still, though. Two days ago, I wasn’t even sure I wanted “scientifically matched” alphas. And now, a group of them might be barreling toward Forever Matched as we speak?!
If I hyperventilate in this room, I hope Celine won’t be too mad. Or get in trouble.
She’s going to hate me, isn’t she?
“Remi,” Meg says, softer. “Stop all your people-pleasing nonsense and talk to me. Do you want to leave? You know I’ll jump in the car and come get you right now.”
“I’m scared,” I admit, dropping down into the loveseat.
Meg hums. “I was, too. That’s normal, I think. But if they’re right for you, they’ll make it all better. I can’t explain how it works, it just… does.”
