“She hasn’t tried to contact me again. But that can’t be a total coincidence. I’m worried my family might be involved.” My stomach churned at the thought.
Nathan studied me and I realized he had no idea what I was talking about. Only Gabriel and Andrew had gotten the sob story of my childhood.
I told him the short version and left out the most depressing parts. His eyes grew darker with anger as I spoke.
“I don’t know why he would be involved, but the only violent psychopath in my life is Domenic. What if this is all some way to… punish me?”
“He would go this far to hurt you?” Nathan growled after a moment.
I half-shrugged. “It would be an escalation, sure, but he showed he was capable of cruelty a long time ago.”
He sat abruptly back on the couch. “Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why are Alphas like this? Or honestly, just men?” He sighed. “My father was a Beta, but that didn’t stop him from trying to kill my mother every few months. I never stood up to him until I presented as an Alpha. And even that was not enough.”
Well that put some puzzle pieces into place. How had I not recognized him as a fellow child of abuse? I reached for his hand, but he was too far away, so I let my hand fall to my lap. “I’m sorry. But you know that’s not your fault,” I murmured.
Nathan looked annoyed, maybe just at the memory of his father, or for showing too much. “I know it doesn’t work this way, but I sometimes wonder if I presented because of that. If some hidden biological imperative was expressed because of theexposure to stress. Cortisol can trigger the expression of other genes; why not the ones that control designation?”
I masked my surprise that he hadn’t completely changed the subject, even if he had made it clinical again. It felt like progress. But towards what? I pushed that thought away.
“It makes sense as a theory. But how would you test it?”
“It would have to be qualitative, I think. We could collect a sample group — Alphas, Betas, and Omegas — and determine the incidence of traumatic events in their lives before presenting.” I didn’t miss that he said “we,” as if we would continue working together after all this was over. Maybe he didn’t mean it, maybe that “we,” was a royal “we,” but my stupid heart took it that way.
“But how would we even classify a traumatic event?” I asked, tucking my feet up into the chair and cradling my mug. “Would we require a PTSD diagnosis?”
Nathan looked wryly at me. “And how many people suffering from PTSD actually have a diagnosis?”
“True. Cortisol levels then?”
“It would have to be prolonged elevated cortisol during childhood. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m already showing my personal bias,” he said. The crease between his brows had relaxed slightly.
We spent the next hour designing our fake study. At one point, I went to find some paper and a pen to scribble things down.
“This is a great idea. You should do it once you’re not being…”Hunted?Targeted?Almost killed because of me? None of those seemed right.
“I know Fairview would back it. Finch is obsessed with designation-related studies,” I continued, referring to the Ph.D. I’d worked with before Lisbeth. He was an older Beta,grandfatherly most of the time, but intensely competitive. “Have you ever worked with him?”
“Briefly. If I recall correctly, you were one of his favorites. We could do it together,” he said.
I tried not to let my heart race. “Now I’m suspecting I was only one of his favorites because I was the department’s pet Omega.”
Nathan’s eyes flashed. “No.”
I almost laughed. “Just becauseyoudon’t see me that way… You’re the exception.”
He exhaled roughly. “It shouldn’t be this way.”
Was there anything more erotic than a man being enraged on my behalf? Apparently not to me. A throb between my legs pushed me to my feet. I could already tell my scent was spiking. “I need to shower.”
He looked bewildered, but nodded. “Sure.”
I fled.
After a long shower, I dried my hair with the hairdryer under the sink. That took twenty minutes. Then I counted the tiles in the shower — three hundred and fifty-six — which took another five.
