Page 80 of Packing for Vacation

“You’re definitely okay with this?” Scott checks.

“One thousand percent,” I answer without hesitation, and to prove it I pop two of the pills out of their foil packet and swallow them down with a sip of water.

In hindsight, we’d applied for my New Zealand Residency at a bad time of year, right before all government departments shut down for the summer break. Now that all workplaces are back up and running as usual, we’ve been given a date for our pack interview. It’s still a month away, but we have something important to do before then.

“So you should probably know that the acceptance rates for these particular omega residency applications vary from year to year,” Matiu’s brother, Īhaka, had informed us when he stopped by last week. “Typically they sit around the 90% mark, however it increases to 98% if the pack members have bonding bites in place.”

“You didn’t think that was pertinent information to tell us earlier?” Matiu had questioned in a tone that I’ve only ever heard him use with his younger siblings.

Īhaka had given us all that same lopsided smile I’m used to seeing on his older brother. They look very similar—the family resemblance is strong across all four Thompson brothers—but Īhaka’s skin is a lighter tan compared to Matiu’s brown, and his hair is auburn. “Maybe. If you were my client I would’ve told you, but you’re not, you’re my brother. No offence Lizzie, but I didn’t want anyone to jump the gun on a permanent bond without being sure, and the last thing you need is external pressure making you do it.”

“Except that now you’re telling us that the government requires us to have bonding bites,” Scott had interjected. “How’s that not external pressure?”

Īhaka had simply shrugged. “It’s external pressure, but everyone can see how serious you are. You and Lizzie met Amokura—that says it all to me.”

I’d nodded in agreement and Īhaka had pointed to me. “See? She gets it.”

Now we’re here, ready to take the next step for our pack. It’s not because of the immigration rules. I already want to be bonded to Scott and Matiu, and the plan had been to make it happen during my next heat, the way I always hoped it would back when I used to daydream about finding my pack.

I hadn’t imagined the use of modern medicine to aid things along, but it is what it is.

I push another two pills out of the foil and scrunch up my nose. “I have to insert these ones.”

“It’s weird that they can be taken orally and that way,” Scott comments.

“Makes sense to me, with it being hormones. You know omegas have all those receptors up there, that’s why she’s so obsessed with hoarding cum,” Matiu teases.

“Okay, okay,” I interrupt, rolling my eyes. “I do not hoard cum. Besides, I don’t hear any complaints from you two about it.”

“I would never complain.”

“Good. Now, I’m off to the bathroom so I can insert these up there in peace.” I pout dramatically. “I’m doing this so we can all have fun.”

“We appreciate it.”

I understand what Scott means about it being strange. I don’t particularly enjoy using pessaries, but this is apparently the most effective way of artificially bringing on a heat, so I dutifully shove the two liquid-filled pills up my vagina and hope for the best.

“How do I know it’s even working?” I mutter, popping the second round of pills into my mouth.

“I feen like you’b knov soon ’nuff,” Scott responds around a mouthful of strawberries. He swallows and clears his throat. “Sorry. I think you’ll know soon. You smell… riper.”

I scrunch up my nose.

“What?! Ripe means tasty and ready to eat!”

“Yeah, but not when you’re talking about pussy.”

“What are you two arguing about now?” Matiu calls from the front door. “Barry’s all settled with Īhaka, by the way. They’ll have a nice long weekend together.”

“That’s good. He said I smelled ripe.”

Matiu makes a face as he joins us in the kitchen. “What?”

“I said riper, like ready to fuck for five days straight. It’s a good thing.”

“For a lawyer, you’re fuckin’ terrible with words, Scotty. You,” he adds, nodding at me, “smell good.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, growling as he inhales. “Good enough to eat.”

“That’s it,” Scott says. “You fuckin’ come in here with your big old seductive attitude and steal my lines. I just told her she smells ready to eat. It was a compliment.”