Page 37 of Ondine: Vol. 2

She’s perfect.

That’s all I can think.

She’s perfect. She’s in these oversized slacks and a tight white tank top. Her breasts are big. Fuck me. Why did I think that? Iguess it’s just a fact. It’s a fact she has amazing breasts. There’s nothing wrong with me thinking that.

She has short ashy blonde hair tucked behind her ears. Her hands hold the strap of her leather satchel close to her body. It’s her face though that I latch on to. Charming and sweet. Her big round princess eyes are deceiving. She assesses me quickly. She already has a read on me.

“Ondine?” I ask, already knowing it’s her.

“Dr. Berrera?”

I smile. Oh no, don’t do that. I drop my smile.

“Not a doctor. Call me Arnie.”

Oh my god I want to kick myself in the fucking head. Why did I tell her to call me Arnie? Janie looks at me funny. I’m Arnold or Mr. Barrera to everyone here. Sometimes the omegas call me Beta Barrera and it’s so cute.

I step away and direct her through the hallway. She goes first but doesn’t know where we are going so stops when we get in. I go around her and hold out my arm, ready to put my hand on her lower back. Nope. Don’t do that. I drop my hand.

Am I sweating? Is it hot in here?

I take her to my office. I’m too nervous to start up small talk. We sit down and I get another good look at her. She’s so alive. She so stunning. I could watch her sitting there for the rest of my life.

Fuck. This is what they warned me about when working with omegas. They harped on not fucking falling for them. Professional. Be professional.

It’s just been a long day.

“Welcome, Ondine. Have you ever been in a Heat Clinic before?”

She’s looking at my bookshelves. I watch her take in every detail. What does she think of me? Of my office?

“No, I’m new.”

“New?” I tilt my head to the side.

“I’ve been under the impression I was a beta. My whole life. I perfumed a few weeks ago. I’m assuming my heat is approaching.”

I hide my surprise. That’s not regular. And how fucking terrifying would that be?

“How old are you?”

“22. I know. It’s weird. None of my clothes fit. This shirt is like two sizes too small. I’m hot one second and cold the next.”

I want her to keep talking.

I’m trying to decide what to ask her first.

I look around the room, anywhere but her, and then default to my training. “Do you have an alpha? Or a pack? Is anyone courting you?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve done a good job avoiding alphas my whole life. It’s just me.”

I try and fail to not smile at that. Omegas love alphas. They are like little fangirls for them. It’s funny to hear her have a perfectly beta reaction to an alpha.

She is staring at one of my framed photographs hanging on the wall. I take portraits, but that’s not appropriate for my office. So it’s one from when I traveled to Greece. It’s a door with grapes growing down the sides of it.

“Do you like that?”

“Yeah,” she says deep in thought. “I’m having trouble making sense of it.”