“Thanks for bringing these in,” I said.
Like most women, I could plaster on a professional smile when I needed to, hide my feelings behind my mask. I did that right now, even as it felt like my face would crack with it. Colt just eyed me, his wild silver eyes and vicious-looking fangs as out of place in this beta ruled territory as his actual wolf form.
“Riley—”
“Did you want to come through to my office? I know you need to get back toyour mate.”
I bit those last two words off, just slightly, but he nodded, and it seemed like Janet only took a full breath when we walked into the lab. I knew the fucking feeling. I stalked through the lab and down the hall to my office on fucking heels because Candy had assured me everyone felt kickarse in heels. I actually felt off balance and unsteady, but that seemed to be a good metaphor for my life, so I went with it. I unlocked my door and wrenched it open before ushering him abruptly in.
“Riley—”
“Don’t,” I said, with a bright vicious edge. I wasn’t going to cry or rage or do anything. I was going to survive. That was it. “You’re just going to talk at me, like everyone always does. Bamboozle me with bullshit, have me believing up is down and red is green.” I sat on the edge of my desk, hoping I looked like a fucking suited badass, but was pretty sure I just looked tired and worn in comparison to my crisp new clothes. “Who’s Janine?”
“She’s an omega,” he replied, his fingers twitching before he shoved them in his pockets.
“Of course she is.” I glanced at the smooth white walls, their blandness soothing on my eyes. “It’s always a fucking omega. And you didn’t tell me about her.” He stood there, not moving, not looking away for a second. Fen was hard at work, as per usual, having sent the alpha most likely to be the sacrificial lamb. “And that’s why you’re here. Not Fen, not Ryan, not Haze. You’re the one I’ll feel safe enough to lash out at, unload all my anger onto. You’re the one who’ll stand there and just take it.”
His nostrils flared, his gaze unending as I stepped closer and closer. I watched the hope war with pain in his eyes, right up until I removed the bag from his fingers and then scooted on out of his reach, somehow disappointed when he didn’t try to stop me.
I rifled through what was inside there, seeing crumpled clothes, toiletries, my phone charger, and then the precious pathology bags crammed full of samples.
“So if words won’t do, what will?” he asked, his jaw firming, his gaze sharpening.
I sucked in a breath, ready to fucking tell him just how bloody futile all this shit was, when there was a sharp knock at the door. Candy poked her head in, glancing warily at the two of us.
“Endocrinology will see us any time this morning. They’ve reshuffled all their appointments when they saw we were interested in coming up. So, do you guys need time to tear into each other or tear off each other’s clothes? Fight or fuck, you tell me.”
She eyed the two of us like a small child would their fighting parents, but I wasn’t going to do either of those things today. I pushed myself away from my desk, keeping my distance from Colt.
“Evidence,” I told him. “I’ve heard what you said, what they said, what your mother said, and I’m done listening to opinions. That’s the freaking point of science—it goes beyond emotion to the actual hard evidence.”
The muscles in his jaw flexed before he nodded, then drew a specimen jar out of his pocket and thrust it at me. It was full to the brim with a milky liquid I just knew was cum. I frowned slightly as I took it from him, then gazed up at him quizzically.
“If you start hurting too much, apply that. It’s fucking gross, but I don’t know what else to do for you.”
And at that, he turned on his heel and walked out of my office.
“Man, kids these days, vaping Tide pods and giving girls jars of their own semen…” Candy said, trying to laugh and failing. “Endocrinology?”
“Endocrinology,” I confirmed.
Chapter 38
“So, what can I do for the ladies of genetic disorders?”
Simon was a big guy who had the manner and the physique of a bear, just a gentle one. He flopped down into his well padded office chair, us doing the same across from him.
“You’ve been kept in the loop about our study?” I asked.
“Candy filled me in. Damn, I wish the subjects had answered our call for participants. You’ve got a latent responding positively to a pack of alphas?”
He might be all honey blond hair and a big bushy beard, but those brown eyes were sharp and shrewd, skewering us on the end of his gaze.
“It looks like she might transition,” I said. “The alphas seem absolutely sure about that.”
“Hormones,” he said with a dismissive snort, but he was nonetheless hanging on our every word.
“The latent has gone through considerable physical changes,” I explained. “Breast size, widening of hips—”