“That was weird, right?” I hissed as soon as the door closed behind me.
Nathan turned, looking troubled. “Yes, this is strange.”
“Why would they want us to talk to him? Is this even ethical?” I threaded my fingers together nervously.
“I don’t know. And yes, it’s technically ethical. It’s not a blind study.”
I pulled at my fingers. “Technically ethical. The best kind. Okay. So, we do it?”
“I don’t think we have a choice,” he said gravely. He looked down at where I was clenching my fingers. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
I huffed, but let my hands fall to my sides.
A nurse in blue scrubs came to the lab within the hour. Nathan and I had both pulled on our lab coats, and I’d hurriedly applied some mascara in the bathroom, cursing Nathan for convincing me to dress casually. I would be meeting with a VIP patient in jeans and a shapeless gray sweater.
The nurse led us down the brightly lit hallway into the clinic proper, and to a room labeled “Exam 5”.
“Ah, here they are,” a voice said as the door opened. There were two men in the room. One was an older man, a Beta judging by his short stature. He looked to be in his mid-fifties and was wearing tight-fitting scrubs that showed off his compact, muscular physique. This had to be Dr. Davis. I wouldnotbe calling him Patrick. He hadn’t visited the lab yet, which surprised me, but judging by Lisbeth’s constant talk about him, they must have been working together quite a bit.
The other man was in his late thirties. There’s always something humbling about sitting on a paper-topped exam table, but he was so undeniably Alpha that he made it look comfortable. His scent hit me full in the face, a spicy and luxurious combination of amber and clove that gave me a head rush. He had ginger hair, curling down behind his ears, brilliant green eyes, and an angular face that somehow matched his intense scent perfectly. He was leaning back on his hands, his legs spread slightly, like a predator at rest.
“Andrew, let me introduce Dr. Manalo and Dr. Crawford,” Dr. David said expansively, drawing Nathan forward. “They are the intrepid team behind the study you’re participating in.”
The Alpha, Andrew, pushed off his hands and reached out to shake Nathan’s hand. Both of their knuckles went white from the effort.
He looked at me next. His white athletic shirt and navy blue athletic shorts showcased lean muscle. My eyes snagged first on his sharply defined quads, then on the gnarly scar that ran along the outside edge of his right knee. I forced myself to look into his eyes again, even if that was like staring into the eyes of a wolf, and held out my hand for him to shake.
I meant to say, “Nice to meet you,” but as soon as our palms touched, my brain gave up on rational thought. It felt like an electric shock, the brush of his callused hand against mine,the almost shocking warmth of his skin. An embarrassing rush of heat swept from the top of my head to my toes. His hand gripped mine more firmly for a split second, and it seemed like his scent grew even stronger. I was lightheaded from trying to hold my breath rather than lunging for the exposed skin of his neck to bury my face in his golden, freckled skin.
I’d never reacted to a scent like this before. Was I losing my mind? A spike of heat flared between my legs, and if I were a normal Omega, I’d probably be perfuming like crazy. Thank god for my screwed up hormones. Only the faintest trace of my scent escaped, further tamped down by the descenters I wore out of habit, but Andrew’s eyes dilated almost imperceptibly all the same.
It wasn’t too surprising that instead of saying something normal, I said, “I’m not a doctor.”
“You’re not? Should I be concerned about your lack of qualifications?” Andrew asked after a moment, baring his teeth in a predatory grin. His voice was smooth, with a Fairview accent that marked him as a native of the city. He was still holding my hand. It seemed I was powerless to let go by myself.
“Ms. Crawford is just being modest,” Nathan said, surprising me enough that I dropped Andrew’s hand and backed away. I stood next to him, looking down at my feet so he wouldn’t notice the internal struggle I was having not to jump in the subject’s lap and straddle those powerful quads. I clenched my hands behind my back. “She’s an excellent researcher and an expert in Omega cell biology.”
I cleared my throat and forced myself to look at Andrew again. Just his eyes this time, not the interesting space between his thighs. “Right. Just no Ph.D. yet.”
“I’ll try not to hold it against you,” he said, still grinning.
“I wanted them to be here for the momentous occasion.” Dr. Davis crossed to a small refrigerator on the counter tothe side of the room and returned with a syringe I assumed contained the solution I’d prepared that morning: Omega mesenchymal stem cells in saline that would, theoretically, help rejuvenate and regrow cartilage tissue. “Ready?”
“Absolutely,” Andrew replied, leaning back on his hands again. He eyed the saline solution almost hungrily, and his expression made my stomach tighten. What would it be like for him to look atmelike that?
What waswrongwith me?
Dr. Davis injected the solution directly into Andrew’s knee, the one with the scar. Curiosity got the better of me.
“What happened?” I asked, nodding at his knee as Dr. Davis stepped away and deposited the syringe in the sharps container mounted on the wall.
Andrew looked down at his knee, too. “A botched meniscus replacement surgery.”.
“That he didn’t receive here,” Dr. Davis interrupted. Andrew conceded the point with a nod.
“It looks painful,” I said.
Andrew laughed bitterly. “It hurts like hell, and I’m useless on the court.”
