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The door clicks shut behind her as I climb onto the crinkly paper. From experience, I know I don’t need to undress for this check in. If anything, she’ll take some blood and then send it for tests, but mostly, Dr. Attersby will just talk to me, check in, make sure I feel okay and there aren’t any symptoms of RMD that we need to be worried about.
It’s what she’s done for the last two appointments, monitoring me the way she told Ford she would.
Dr. Attersby doesn’t look up as she enters the room. Her eyes focused on the file in front of her. “Hello, Sylvie. How are you feeling today?”
If she notices I smell like all of my alphas and my own arousal drenched perfume, she mentions nothing. Or maybe the clinic is just so saturated with scent blockers that she actually can’t smell me.
“Good. Very good, actually.”
She flips a paper and then looks up at me. “Well, I have good news. According to the most recent blood tests, the last of the suppressant should be out of your system now.” My stomach lurches at her announcement. It feels sudden. Only a six days since I stopped taking them altogether. But then I’m not sure what I was expecting. For it to take months? That’s not the way suppressants work.
She gives me a kind smile. “I want to do just one more blood test to verify, though, if you’ll humor me? I have a feeling if I do nothing, your alphas will knock down my door and demand a full battery of tests.”
I chuckle and nod, still feeling ridiculously shocked. She goes about getting the vial and needle ready while I digest the information she just gave me.
If the suppressants are gone, that means my body will return to its natural omega state. And as both Dr. Attersby and Dr. Callahan in Alver City warned, I’ll be having a heat. Soon.
Really, really fucking soon. Like as early as next week. And it will be a doozy.
It should scare me, the prospect of my first genuine heat in years, but I’m… excited. And turned on, if I’m honest. Finally, I’ll be able to do what my nature wants me to do, and I’ll be doing it with my pack. Just like it always should have been.
There’s a pinch on my arm and I look down, expecting to see the vial filling with blood, but instead Dr. Attersby is pushing something into my veins. “What-”
“Shhh,” she soothes, as she pushes the plunger down. “It’s going to be okay, Sylvie. I’m not going to hurt you.” I hadn’t thought she would until she said that. I blink at her and try to jerk my arm away, but she’s got a firm grip on my arm. I try again, but my muscles are weak and getting weaker by the second.
“There you go,” she murmurs, pulling the needle out of my arm and helping me to lie back on the exam chair. I don’t want to. I want to kick and fight and scream, but my body won’t listen to me. I’m too heavy, too fuzzy, too goddamn weak to do anything.
The doctor shifts me up the chair and smooths back my hair in a move that is absurdly gentle given that she just drugged me. “You’re going to be fine. Really. I swear, you won’t be hurt, Sylvie, but you are such a very rare case. A rejected omega with RMD, on suppressants for far longer than any omega should be. The pheromones you’re putting off right now are so potent. And I just have…” She shakes her head and looks away from me, eyes going glassy, like she’s looking at an ice cream buffet or something. “You could be the answer to everything, Sylvie.”
I frown. Or at least I try to, but my mouth doesn’t so much as twitch. What the hell is she talking about?
“You’re an opportunity for knowledge I can’t pass up. And he’s promised I can keep you, I just… I need to do one thing for him.”
What. The. Hell? Keep me? What the fucking hell is she talking about? Who is she talking about? And why would she think its okay to keep a person just because of their hormones?
“Don’t worry, Sylvie. Nothing I do is going to hurt.” Then she winces. “Well, okay, that’s not strictly true. It’s going to hurt, but it’s just going to be your body’s natural cramping. Nothing more.”
Cramping? What does she mean by that? She comes up next to me, and I try to jerk away, but nothing works. Not my arms and legs, not my eyes or mouth. I’m honestly lucky my lungs are still pulling in air, that my heart is still beating.
Another shushing sound passes her lips. I swear to God if she tries to soothe me like I’m a fussy baby one more fucking time, I’m going to rip her head off. She lifts a syringe with a long, thick needle sticking out of it.
“This is a relatively new medication, still in the testing phases, so I hope you don’t mind if I share my findings with the creator.” I hate that I can only lie here and whimper as she lowers the needle and plunges it into my arms. “I think the dosage is correct, but only time will tell.”
Ice flows through my veins from where she’s depressing the plunger. It slides through my blood vessels and around my body until it centers on my womb. And just like that, all her earlier words come back and make sense.
I vaguely remember Sadie saying something about how the pharmaceutical company she worked for was trying to create a medication that could force an omega’s heat. She couldn’t think of one medical reason that would need to exist, and it skeeved her out enough that she seriously considered quitting because of it.
I have to say I’m right there with her. This feels so wrong. Chemical. Synthetic. And too fucking strong. My natural scent is heavy in the air with my pheromones, but they’re tinged acrid with my fear and the drugs. No one would smell this and think I’m an omega happily in my heat.
Her nose wrinkles, and she shakes her head. “Maybe he’s right and I should have knocked you out entirely. Your scent could be better. But I don’t think it really matters. And I thought it was important for you to be awake, so you know I’m not hurting you.”
She says that like she’s doing me a fucking favor.
But I’m honestly not sure what would be worse, waking up in the middle of a heat with no knowledge of how it started and what happened to me, or this. Unable to move, but aware of every fucking thing she’s doing.
A raging inferno blazes to life lower in my belly and I let out a moan that is embarrassing and terrifying all at once. Sweat coats my skin as the drug takes over, forcing something that should be natural, that I knew was coming, but I thought I’d have time.
A cramp has me whimpering as the pain hits, hard and fast. I want to curl into a ball, but I can’t.
