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I follow her into a smaller room.
Her companion hands me a clipboard with forms that need basic details like her name and address.
Frustration flares inside me as I flip the sheet and there are more questions, this time regarding her allergies and health issues.
I know nothing about Iris’s allergies. I don’t even know when she was born.
What the fuck am I doing here? Julian or my brothers would be a better help to her than me.
Doubt sets in. Was I doing the right thing by keeping her a prisoner in my home?
17
Iris
The pain in my stomach must’ve made me blackout at some point.
After driving to the hospital, Caleb handed me to the nurses. They wheeled me inside a cabin but I can’t recall much after that.
When my senses return, I find myself lying in a cot. Soft beeps sound close to me, attracting my attention to the health monitors around my bed.
This looks like a private ward inside the hospital.
A lovely fragrance of roses and summer berries hangs in the air. I look around, expecting to see bouquets of flowers and baskets of fruit, but there’s nothing in this sterile, empty room.
Maybe it’s the smell of disinfectants, I realize.
I breathe slowly, scared the blinding pain in my lower abdomen will flare up again.
The sound of the opening door makes me turn my head that way. A female doctor in blue scrubs and a white coat walks in.
I take a closer look at her name tag. “Dr. Ana Lawson” is printed in bold, black letters on her shirt.
She smiles at me and moves closer to the bed. “I see that you’re awake now. How’re you feeling, Miss Collins?”
“The pain is gone,” I say, feeling grateful. “What happened to me?”
She pulls up a chair and takes a seat on it. Leaning toward the bedside table, she fills up a glass of water. “Have a drink, first. We have a long talk ahead of us.”
Sitting up, I take the glass she’s offering me.
I sip slowly, still worried the agonizing cramps will come back.
“How long have you been taking the O-pills?” Dr. Lawson asks, her face morphing into a grim expression.
“Huh?” O-pills are usually used by younger omegas who haven’t found their mate yet. The pills help delay their heat and even have the ability to mask their perfumes. They’re handy for omegas when they’re traveling alone to avoid attracting attention.
“I’ve never used them,” I say, confused. A doctor should be able to tell I’m a beta without any doubts. “I’m not an omega.”
Her grim expression falters. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not an omega,” I tell her. “You’ve noticed by now, I’m sure. There’s no need for me to use O-pills.”
A frown crosses her face. “You’re an omega, Miss Collins.”
I shake my head. “I’m not.”
“Miss Collins,” Dr. Lawson injects a hint of dominance in her tone. “You must’ve been on O-pills and H-pills for years to conceal your omega status. Do not lie to me.”
