“A second adolescence?” Simon leaned forward, then his fingers started to fly over his keyboard as he pulled up papers. “Lemme guess, the latent didn’t so much reveal as a beta as plump for the designation? And the changes only began when in the presence of the alphas.”
“Now she is. She was known to the pack during childhood.”
“Including during adolescence?” he asked, scanning the literature.
“Yep.”
“Hmm…that definitely is intriguing. So talk to me. What do you need from us?”
“There’s some concern about what this is going to do to the woman, obviously,” I said, forcing myself to keep my tone cool and clinical, as everything else rattled around in that box inside me. “The dangers for latents have been well documented.”
“And overemphasised,” he replied, shooting me a genial smile. He was a nice guy and everything, but there was a littlepat the hysterical woman on the headin his tone. “I know they love to do the cautionary tale bullshit at university, but honestly? We’ve seen a lot of latents come through here, and only about one percent of our patients need medical treatment. Every beta is a latent in some way or another, which you should know as geneticists.”
I smiled and nodded then, even as I gritted my teeth.
“Well, what’s brought us to you is some alpha mating rituals,” I said. “They call the phase the latent is going through right now ‘transition.’ She’s being readied for mating with them through near constant physical contact, a lot of emotional bonding, as well as what appears to be a regular schedule of sexual interactions focusing particularly on the application of sperm orally, vaginally, and on her breasts. They explained that this eases the pain of transition.”
“And now we get to the good stuff.” Simon leant forward, resting his head on his arms. “Sounds like quite a job you got going there.” There was something just a little sleazy about his smile then, or was I being too sensitive? “You must have an excellent relationship with the pack and their prospective mate to get this close to the purpose.”
I smiled tightly in response, leaning back in my chair and staring back at him coolly.
“I don’t actually see any of this, obviously. Omegas are notoriously touchy about other people getting close to them and their packs during transition, and the subject is the same. I instructed the pack on how to collect samples for us before things went too far, and they’ve been quite diligent about it. I think they’re hoping we’ll be able to help if things go pear-shaped during transition.”
“I bet.” His eyes shone, then he straightened up. “They want her to shift from being a beta to an omega. There might be more examples of that happening, but we don’t hear about them. They’re strangely close-lipped about it all, caught up in some kind of fucked-up racial purity bullshit. OK, so what do you want from me? To brainstorm what to try with this latent? And what tests to get done to try and narrow down what might be effective? Adding hormones like relaxin or adrenaline isn’t a simple thing. The body produces different hormones in complex cascades within the body to keep the endocrine system healthy, so slamming this latent full of one or the other probably won’t have the desired effect. Let’s get some baseline stats and then work out a plan from there.”
We walked out of Simon’s office with a handful of pathology forms, both of us quiet until we got in the lift.
“Riley?” Candy asked when we saw the carriage was empty, the elevator jerking as it took us down several floors. “You OK?”
“Hormones,” I said, flashing her a smile I didn’t feel. “Just hormones.”
And weird genetic defects.
When we got back to my office, we retrieved the DNA analysis reports I’d kept locked in my drawer. As we pored over the films and the reports, the guys were all exactly as we expected—grade A Australian alphas. But mine?
“Shit,” Candy said, her eyes widening. “No wonder they’ve been responding to you.” She dragged over my computer and then pulled up some of the textbook omega DNA samples people had taken from sick omegas admitted to hospital. “Look, here, here, here…” Her voice faded away and was replaced with a high-pitched white noise buzzing inside my head as I saw all the points of similarities.
We’d been made to run our own DNA samples at university to learn how to extract DNA using the equipment. I’d resisted looking too hard at my own, trying not to analyse what was there for fear of first year medical student syndrome. People were constantly lampooned for their tendency to assume every single rare and horrific medical condition was one they now suffered from. By this point, we’d all learned that there was a whole lot of genetic diversity that just floated under the radar, rarely identified unless there was an issue. I knew I was a latent, I knew I didn’t have issues, so I didn’t need to analyse it.
But a big part of it? It was what rattled in that box. I was given a simple way of explaining things, that I was a beta and the guys were alphas and never the twain should meet. If they’d come and found me at university, burst into a lecture and claimed me before everyone, just like I’d often fantasised about, then maybe I would have taken a second look. But while population level aberrations were of interest, individual quirks? They were just outliers until proven otherwise and not worth the mental energy to look at.
Until now.
“Riley,” Candy said in a hushed tone. “In any other community, you would’ve been an omega for sure.”
I frowned at her words, rubbing at my temples, feeling a now familiar ache start up inside me, but this time, it was joined by something else altogether.
Riley Taylor was the great pretender. I’d faked hating the guys’ attention back at high school. I’d faked being OK with leaving them when I went to university. I’d faked being OK as I studied, right up until I hadn’t been. Even then, when I broke down, I’d learned what I was supposed to look and act like from my psychologist and then I’d faked that too. I’d faked so fucking well, I believed my own lies. My fingers scratched at the desk, Candy watching me in alarm, as I tried very, very hard right now to fake keeping my shit together and not scream.
For seconds, minutes, hours, I couldn’t tell which, I just focussed on my breath, loud and rasping, rattling in my chest, fighting to get in and get out, right up until my claws dug into the desktop.
“Oh, fucking shit…” Candy said, peering closer, catching like I did the minute my ragged nails shifted. They became hard curving claws sprouting from human fingers, with small smatterings of reddish fur along their lengths. “Riley… Earth to Riley, because fuck, girl, I am not down with getting up close and personal with your fursona. Um…keep taking deep breaths, just like that. Good girl. Such a good girl.”
“Are you talking to me like I’m a fucking dog?” I all but growled, and felt a pang of fear as it came out distorted and guttural.
“Nooo…and, bitch, you need to stay fucking calm. You’ve got eyes like twenty-cent coins right now, and that ain’t no French manicure you’re rocking. Stop thinking about whatever fucking omega bullshit—” I bared my teeth then, wanting her to shut the fuck up, pleased when she did, but it didn’t last. “You’ve also got a little thing right here…” She pointed to my canines, flinching when my tongue flicked up and felt the sharper points.
Of course that was when someone knocked on my door.