“Shhh.” I cut her off, stroking her back. “I don’t give a damn if you don’t have a scent right now. I’ll take your mark any day.”
She hides her face in my neck, and for a long, quiet moment, the world outside that room doesn’t exist. It's just the steady hum of our pack and the fragile heartbeat of the omega I already know I’d burn the world for.
Rose
The doctor is a small beta man with a receding hairline and glasses. Telling him about my medical history is both mortifying and, somehow, a relief. I’m painfully aware of how reckless my decision was, but Dr. Rendon doesn’t make me feel judged. He’s calm. Professional. Measured in that way betas sometimes are.
The alphas don’t even ask to stay. Once introductions are made, they excuse themselves and step out onto the patio to give us privacy. I’m grateful for it. It’s not that I can’t be honest with them. It’s that I don’t want them toheareverything while I’m still trying to process it myself.
But saying it all out loud to another person makes me realize Icantell them. That maybe Ishould.
Dr. Rendon sets up his small kit including several devices, a portable monitor, a vials tray. He moves through each step with quiet efficiency, drawing blood, checking vitals, and explaining as he goes. His calmness helps me breathe.
When he speaks, it’s with that steady, practiced tone doctors use when they have bad news to deliver.
“The blood work confirms a rising omega hormone profile,” he says, flipping through his notes. “Based on these results, I expect you’ll enter a bi-annual heat cycle within the next two to three weeks. You’ll likely experience intermittent heat spikes leading up to that point. You'll need to fill out the heat questionnaire and give it to your alphas before they begin. I suggest sooner than later.”
Words feel heavy and far away.
He continues, gentle but clinical. “Please remember, Miss Morales, much of this is based on educated estimation. The drug you took is unregulated anduntested. Some of my findings are clear, but the rest can only be confirmed with time. Though I can be definite about the touch deprivation. That’s showing every symptom. Here are some printouts on the correct therapies and techniques for recovery.” He sets the paper on the table.
The words sink like stones in my stomach. Some of this I expected, but hearing it aloud still knocks the air from my lungs. I can’t help but regret my choice, even though I know there hadn’t really been another one.
He studies me a moment longer. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”
I swallow hard. “The scent-sensitive awakening,” I say quietly, for the second time. I had designated late. Later than most alphas and omegas, at twenty two. Most designate at twenty. I’d figured that it was just that I was a late bloomer. I’d truly believed I was a beta until two years ago, at my families annual Christmas party. I’d just designated out of nowhere—at least that’s what I’d thought.
He folds his hands. “Yes. In some cases, psychological trauma can suppress a designation. The mind defends itself so fiercely that the person presents as a beta. But when faced with a scent-sensitive match, the repression fails. The omega awakens. Sometimes abruptly.”
He flips the chart toward me, tapping a notation. “It’s rare, but not unheard of. Cases have been documented in subjects as old as seventy. In your case, the abrupt shift into an omega on the night you designated fits that pattern. You said the change happened after you scented another alpha for the first time. That was likely your scent-sensitive mate. His alpha hormones triggered your omega instincts.”
“But since I took the drug, I haven’t been able to scent anything—or be scented. Wouldn’t that negate the scent sensitivity somehow?”
Dr. Rendon chuckles softly. “Scent sensitivityis such a misnomer. It has very little to do with actual smell and much more to do with the bond between an omega and their fated mate. Some would call it psychological—others, soul-deep. Scents are just the most visible way it manifests, not the defining one. So no, you haven’t negated anything.”
My fingers twist in my lap.
“Any other questions?” He asks.
I shake my head. “No, Doctor. Thank you.”
“Remember,” he adds as he packs his bag, “though I’m contracted through the Sterling Pack, I retain full doctor–patient confidentiality. What you share with them is entirely your choice. I won’t discuss your medical information with anyone for any reason.”
“Thank you,” I repeat, voice thin.
When he leaves, the house goes quiet again.
I sit on the couch for a long time. I’d been so frightened when I designated as an omega after thinking I was a beta that I hadn’t considered that something triggered it. I’d just escaped my parents and then hopped right onto the drug when Benito’s contact offered it to me. I’d gone right back to being the beta I’d always thought I was. Now, with this new information about how I designated. It puts everything into clear perspective. No wonder I always felt such a strong pull to Kai. No wonder I feel the same pull to his pack.
The sliding door cracks open. Harlan steps in first. “You okay, Starlight? Need some time?”
I’m so grateful for the option, but I shake my head. I need to do this before I lose my nerve.
He gestures behind him. The others file in. Kai takes the seat to my right, Evander settles on my left. Logan perches on the arm of the couch beside Evander, while Wyatt and Harlan flank the fireplace.
I take a slow breath. My heart feels too big for my chest. I’m still processing everything myself, which is why I want to tell them now before it hits me hard enough to make talking impossible.
“Take your time,” Harlan says in that deep, rumbling tone that always sounds like comfort and command at once. When I meet his gaze, I see nothing but concern reflected back. Every one of them is watching me with expressions of protection and worry.
