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My mind spins as I try and figure out why they would even take care of me, especially if I wasn’t theirs.

“Even if they weren’t your biological parents, why didn’t your parents register you?” Charlotte asks, bringing me back to reality.

“They said that the government would take me away,” I whisper softly, wincing. “And that—and that I’d be forced to service whole packs of alphas.”

My eyes dart up to Charlotte’s neckline, seeing the three sets of bond marks. Three alphas.

And obviously she’s serviced them well, considering she’s carrying one of their children.

“Sorry,” I murmur, my eyes lowering when I see the flash of shock in her expression. I didn’t mean to offend her. The one alpha I saw seemed nice enough, and she does look very well taken care of.

“Oh Luna, that’s—god, this must be terrifying for you.”

I shrug, swallowing hard. It is. But I don’t know if I want to admit that. I think I’ll fall apart if I let myself say that I’m willing to give myself over to four alphas. Especially because it only took one to permanently take parts of myself I’ll never get back.

“Is it at least comforting that they’re yours?” She asks, an attempt at a reassuring smile plastered onto her face.

“Mine?” I have no clue what she’s talking about. They’re no more mine than anything around me right now is.

“You know, your scent match.” She says in a way that sounds like I should know exactly what she’s talking about.

“I—I don’t know what that means.” Will all my conversations with anyone make me feel this stupid?

“Can you—can you really not tell they’re yours?” At my continued confusion, she hums in thought. “Like, do their scentsnot smell really appealing? Like you wanna jump them or climb them like a tree?”

“I don’t think I’ve met any other alphas that smell as good as they do,” I say, clasping my fingers together in my lap. “But I also haven’t met many alphas, either.”

Her expression shifts to something a bit more professional like she’s been given a problem and is trying to solve it. I guess this is technically her job, considering she’s a doctor.

“Have you used suppressants or other kinds of drugs?”

I shake my head. “No, no drugs. I don’t even know what suppressants are.”

“Hmm, well, could you tell me about how you’ve gotten through your heats in the past?”

“I uh, I’ve only been with one alpha, for three of my heats. The rest were betas.”

“Oh my god,” She whispers, her eyes wide with shock. “How many heats is that?”

More shame. More feeling like I can’t do or say anything right. “I’ve had my heat every four months ever since I turned 18. I’m 21 now.”

“Holy shit,” she murmurs, running a hand through her hair.

“Is that bad?” I ask nervously.

She offers me a weak attempt at a reassuring smile—her weakest attempt yet. “Well, now you know me, so I can help you if there are any issues. I’m going to have to do more research for you, though. How does that sound?”

I can only bring myself to nod in response, because what else am I supposed to say to that? A doctor knows something is wrong with me but doesn’t know what. Or she’s not willing to tell me right now. Either way, I’m still left in the dark.

I don’t like the dark.

“Okay, let’s head to the bathroom so I can get all the things I need to set up,” she says, standing and grabbing her briefcase.

The bathroom is just as luxurious as the rest of the house. It’sfancier than I ever dreamed a bathroom could be, with a huge shower with multiple showerheads, marble floors, and a huge jacuzzi-style tub.

I freeze when I see myself in the mirror. Under the bright, harsh bathroom lights, the shadows under my eyes and the bruises against my skin are so obvious. The dirt and grime on my skin make me feel disgusting, like a stain upon the luxury of the bathroom I’m in.

“Okay, so I can definitely see that your feet and legs are probably bothering you, but what do you think I should take a look at?” Charlotte asks, opening up her briefcases and pulling out a pair of latex gloves.