Page 19 of Wicked Alphas


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She stares at me for a long time, a frown forming on her face.

I can practically hear the words in her mind.

Why were you letting someone else give you meds?

Her judgmental face sickens me, and I blurt out a response before I can stop myself.

“He was my caretaker after I had a car accident. He had all my medical records, history, everything.”

“Well, if you have his information, I can contact—”

“No!” I snap, and she raises an eyebrow. “I can’t. It’s not—he’s not—safe.” I exhale slowly, biting my lip.

Her frown grows, but she nods. “Aisle ten has headache medications, but if the symptoms get worse, I encourage you to go to a doctor. If you don’t know what he was giving you…well, it could be bad.”

I swallow nervously. “I know,” I whisper.

“And there’s no chance you could be in Heat?”

Her words stun me. “I’m a Beta. My identity card saysBeta.”

She read it, didn’t she?

She shrugs. “It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

I shake my head. “Yeah, thanks. I appreciate your help.”

She mumbles something as I walk to aisle ten.

As I grab a bottle of headache relief, a cheery “Hi!” sounds next to me.

I turn to see a petite woman around my age with large brown doe eyes and blonde curly ringlets. She’s looking at me with wonder and a kind smile.

Judging by her delicate features and soft floral scent, she’s an Omega.

“Hi?” I’m puzzled by her greeting, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“How are you?” she breathes, her eyes bright with warmth.

“Um, good. And you?”

She lets out a choked laugh. “It’s so good to see you again.” She stands there, looking like she wants to pull me in for a hug.

Michael said you’ve been here before.

The silence turns awkward, and her smile slowly fades. “How long are you here for?”

“Renee!” the pharmacist calls, and the Omega looks towards her, then back at me.

“Sorry, I don’t—” I say, but the pharmacist interrupts again.

“Renee? Your prescription is ready.”

“Oh-okay,” she says, then looks back at me. “Well, call me while you’re here, okay? We can grab lunch and talk.”

“Sure.”

I don’t know your phone number.

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