"Just water," I agree, and turn back toward the door.
But I'm absolutely also getting the towels.
The Omega Clinic
Elowen
Adam is alreadyon the exam table when we file in, perched on the edge of it in a paper gown that is doing him absolutely no favors, his bare legs dangling. Perrin moves to this brother’s left, close enough that their arms brush, and I take the right side.
Cliff and Raff linger by the chairs along the wall. Neither of them is sitting. They're both standing with their arms crossed, staring at the educational posters above the chair rail, reading about the late stages of male omega heat cycles, and both looking extremely uncomfortable.
This exam room is bigger than I expected.
Most medical offices treat pack visits like an inconvenience, cramming everyone into a standard room designed for one person and a clipboard, but this one was clearly built with packs in mind. There are enough chairs along the wall for six people, a wider than normal exam table, and a separate alcove with a curtain for privacy. The lighting iswarm instead of the usual fluorescent assault, and someone has put a small diffuser in the corner putting out something faintly herbal and calming.
I approve.
I approve of all of it, actually.
The organized supply drawers visible through the glass cabinet doors, the color-coded patient folders on the counter, the neat row of labeled empty specimen jars on the shelf above the sink. It smells like gauze and antiseptic and the wonderful sterility of a well-run medical office.
It made something in my chest loosen the second we walked in.
This is my language.
For a few seconds I stand here and breathe it in, and let myself feel at home in a way I haven't felt since the Morder pharmacy…which is a depressing comparison but it’s true.
And then it hits me.
I will never work in a place like this ever again.
Mated omegas don't have jobs. That’s just the reality of the world we live in. And even if that weren't true, what clinic would hire an omega for anything beyond answering phones or refilling coffee? The laws are what they are, and the attitudes behind them are worse, and I spent eight years in school becoming good at something that I am never going to be allowed to use again.
I press my lips together and look down at the floor.
"We should leave," Adam blurts as he shifts on the exam table. The flimsy paper gown they had him change into is practically see through, his bare legs dangling over the edge. “I want to go.”
On the other side of the table, Perrin shifts closer, before glancing up at Cliff.
"They're going to lock me up," Adam continues, his voice dropping lower. "They’re going to file me with some kind of government registry and the next thing I know I'm going to be dragged into some kind of academy and matched with an alpha I've never met and I'll never see any of you again and?—"
"Adam." Cliff's voice is patient as he pushes off the wall and crosses to the exam table. He takes Adam's hand in both of his. "That only happens to unmated omegas."
Adam's jaw works, clearly not believing him.
"Nobody is taking you anywhere," Raff says firmly.
Adam grumbles something under his breath, the paper gown crinkling as he shifts again. "Elowen doesn't have to get an invasive exam."
I turn to look at him.
"I'm a woman, Adam," I say flatly. "I have been subjected to more invasive vaginal exams than I can count. It's practically a hobby at this point." I cross my arms. "But if it would make you feel better, I am absolutely willing to hop up on that table next to you and spread my legs. Would that help?"
Adam immediately smiles.
Raff makes a sound from across the room that is low and sexy, making it clear that he’d love nothing more.
"Rafferty," Cliff says, without even looking at him.
