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"Sure. Are one of you injured?" she inquires professionally, not sounding put off by the prospect.
Not physically.
"No. Not injured. Thank you, we'll see you in thirty." Then I hang up before she has the option to ask more questions or turn down the house call since nobody is suffering from an actual, physical injury.
"Let's go get some answers," I say to Mason and Brooklyn, who hop in the car at my words, anticipation palpable in the air.
Twenty minutes later, I pull up to the wrought iron gate and put in our four-digit code. The keypad lights up green and the gates open slowly. Doctor Tanner has a guest code that we activate anytime we know to expect someone. When the gates are opened fully, I begin the descent up the one-hundred yard driveway that has a slight incline. Our house sits up on a small hill that makes it look a little too pretentious for my taste, but there is no denying its beauty.
Headlights hit the back of my jeep just as we're pulling into the four car garage. "That was fast," I mumble, surprised to see the good doctor's black town car parking in our circular driveway, right in front of the entryway.
As our pack leader, Brooklyn hops out of the jeep and walks from the garage to meet Doctor Tanner. Brooke extends her hand and shakes the doctor's, then sweeps an arm out, gesturing for the front door. Doctor Tanner follows her inside so that leaves Mason and I to close the garage door and come in through the side to meet them in the living room.
"Can I get you anything to drink?" Mason asks hospitably. As the beta of the group, he tends to be more aware of everyone's needs. An alpha's instincts are good for soothing, nurturing, and caring for omegas. A beta cares for everyone, and it's why, despite what some may think, they are essential for a pack's survival. Which is lucky they make up sixty percent of the population.
"No, thank you, Mason. How about we get right to the issue?" she asks, looking directly at me as I'm the one who has called her twice in a week.
We all take a seat around the various pieces of furniture in our living room. It's a large, open concept space with twenty-foot ceilings and a huge brick fireplace as the centerpiece that the three, cream colored couches surround with a large oak coffee table in the middle. I take a seat on one couch with Mason, Brooke sits on one by herself, and Doctor Tanner takes the last one.
Once everyone is settled, Brooke looks to me to start, too. I jump right in. "We've all found our mate."
"All of you?" Doctor Tanner asks, eyebrows raising in surprise. "That's wonderful news."
Mason, Brooke, and I share a look that has Doctor Tanner backtracking. "Isn't it?"
I nod. "It is," I start slowly, "but she doesn't appear to know we're her mates."
"You all share the same mate?" she inquires with furrowed brows. I nod. "And she can't tell that any of you are her mate?" A shake of my head in answer. "Hmmm," she says, eyes going vacant for a second.
"Is there a logical reason she wouldn't be able to tell, or do you think she's rejecting us as her mates?" Mason manages to choke out, looking wounded. He's the most soft-hearted in the pack, but we're all feeling the strain right now. I settle my hand on his knee and give him a gentle squeeze in comfort. I can’t help but notice the minute tensing of this thigh before it relaxes under my touch.
"I can't say for sure without speaking to her or running any tests..." She looks each of us in the eye, debating something and then sighs. "Have any of you heard of a drug calledPassion Pack?"
Passion Pack?
I look at Mason and Brooklyn, who both look equally confused. We all shake our heads at Doctor Tanner. "No," I answer.
Tanner picks at an imaginary piece of lint on her impeccable tailored and clean navy colored suit. The color contrasts nicely against the cream couch. "It's a drug being abused right now. It's a hallucinogen cocktail made up of LSD, ketamine, and a few other things. People—mainly packs—have been using it to trick omega's into mating with them."
Feral, twin growls rip from mine and Brooklyn's mouths, and Mason's spine is rigid, anger radiating from him. Tricking an omega into mating with you sounds an awful lot like rape to me. Judging by my pack's response, they agree. To do that to anyone, especially someone you care enough about tomate and markis despicable.
"Why haven't we heard of this yet? Why hasn't a drug like this made national news?" I growl, clenching my fists together to stop from tearing the couches apart or swinging at someone. The people in this room aren't the target of my rage though, so I lock it down.
"Because you guys are some of the good ones," Doctor Tanner sighs, "and I can't say for sure why it isn't being publicized. I can only imagine the people in charge don't want to create a mass panic. Nobody would feel safe anymore. True, bonded mates would be questioned. Packs would fall apart."
I get what she's saying, but I can't agree completely. "It sounds like that's exactly whatshouldbe happening. People need to be told about this. Omegas need to be warned."
"It's not just omegas that can be victimized by this drug, but we do our part as we see it. I recently had an omega come see me about stomach pains she's been having. Her previous pack drugged her for two years."
My heart seizes, and my stomach feels like it's bottomed out. Horror sluices through me.Two years.I can't even imagine the emotional or physical pain of detoxing from two years of hallucinogens.
Doctor Tanner continues, ignoring my pack's collective dread. "But again, she saw the signs, got tested, and now she's aware of the drug and its dangers. We handle it on a case by case basis until we can come up with a permanent solution that doesn't cause mass panic and hysteria."
"Who..." I choke out, "Who was drugged for two years?" All of a sudden I'm wondering if this is what's happened to our mate. She has been clutching her stomach. Could she be the omega Doctor Tanner saw?
The woman in question looks sternly at me, disapproval clear in her gaze. Like I give a fuck. "You know I can't release patient information." I nod, rolling my eyes. I know it's petulant, but I can't seem to care. "What I can say is that two years, while not the longest case I've seen, is still an abnormally long time. Usually friends or family are able to raise suspicions much earlier than that."
"How can we know for sure if this is what's wrong with our mate?" Brooklyn asks.
