Page 49 of Dreamscape Therapies

"I think you're my fated mate." He pauses. "Actually, I know you are."

A surprised laugh escapes me. It's not because it's funny. I don't know why I'm laughing. I think my brain has simply run out of appropriate responses and decided this was the best option. I cover my mouth, trying to smother another laugh, but it slips out anyway.

Vincent's eyebrows pull together. He looks nervous and vulnerable.

Oh, gods. "I'm sorry," I say quickly. "I'm not laughing at you."

"Sure."

"I'm serious."

"Yeah, I guess I was just confused because of, you know, all the laughing."

"I'm just trying to process what you just said."

He runs a hand through his hair. "I figured you might need a minute. Maybe several."

He's trying to joke, but I can hear the nerves underneath it. I sit back in my chair and take a breath. "Okay. Explain to me why you think we’re fated mates."

Vincent's shoulders drop slightly, like he's relieved I didn't immediately tell him he's insane. "I figured it out when we had drinks at the bar." He looks down at his hands again. "You said I smelled good."

My face heats immediately as the memory of his particular smell comes back in a whoosh. The warm, woodsy scent that had made me lean closer without even thinking about it. I'd assumed it was his cologne.

"I said you smelled nice,” I say, confused about why that made him think we’re fated.

"Yeah." He looks back at me, his eyes as serious as I’ve ever seen them. "I don't wear cologne, Jay."

The realization hits me like a brick. My stomach drops. Betas can't smell alpha pheromones. Not normally. Not unless…

I swallow. "You're sure?"

"Pretty fucking sure." He gives me a small, almost embarrassed smile. "Jay, you're a beta. You shouldn't have been able to smell me."

I don't know what to say to that because he's right, and a dozen little things I'd been ignoring start lining up in my head. The way I always notice when he walks into the room. The way I look forward to his appointments. The way I think about him between sessions. The way I felt when he started sleeping better. The strange little pang of jealousy whenever he talked about someone else.

I'd told myself it was because I cared about my patient. That I was invested in his recovery. That I wanted him to get better. All of that was true, but apparently it wasn't the whole truth.

"Jay?"

I realize I've been silently staring at him with my mouth gaping. "Sorry,” I apologize, shaking my head and rubbing a hand over my face.

Vincent sighs. "Look, I've known something was different since the first time I met you. My alpha reacted to you immediately." He gives me a sheepish look. "He really likes you."

Despite everything, I almost laugh. "That's one way to put it."

"I'm serious."

"I know."

“I kept telling myself it was attraction. Maybe loneliness. Maybe because you were helping me when I was at my worst." His voice gets quieter. "But then you smelled my pheromones, and everything made sense."

I stand up. I need to move. Sitting still suddenly feels impossible. I pace a short path in front of my chair, rubbing my hands together as my brain tries to catch up with the situation.

Fated mates. Alpha and beta. Complicated. And professionally disastrous.

That’s one very important problem neither of us can ignore. He is still very much my patient.

"Vincent."