Emily
“What?” I follow Finn’s furious gaze and realise my mum’s pink blouse is a little too short in the arm. It’s ridden up, the dainty pearl button resting an inch above Rick’s ugly bite scar.
“Did he maul you like this?”
“I... I… I…”
There’s a chattering sound in my head and I realise it’s my teeth. I clench my jaw to make it stop, but the words come spewing out before I can stop them. “I didn’t want it. He said he was drunk, but I don’t believe him. He moved too fast, and I couldn’t get off the bed before he caught me. He pinned me down with an arm across my throat, and while I was trying to push him off, he bit me.”
A warm hand cups my cheek, but I shiver, my skin prickling with a cold sweat. “It bled… everywhere . He was always so uptight about his thousand-count bedsheets, but he didn’t care. I was screaming and crying, but he was so calm. He waited until I was exhausted and then he gripped my jaw, squeezing it to make me bite him back. He said it didn’t matter I was only a beta, it would be a real claiming, because we both wanted it. He used an alpha command, I think, but he couldn’t make me do it, so he pushed me off the bed. I hit my head on the dresser, but I remember him saying I was lucky he cared enough to want to keep me… ”
Through the static in my head, I think about the bee joke, about Finn liking it enough to tell me it was a keeper. I was so proud I made him smile, but he’s stone-faced now, and that warm little glow in my heart has long since puttered out. A wave of bile rushes in to replace it, and I look around frantically. “God, I think I’m going to throw up.”
“No, you’re not.” Even in the grip of a panic, I melt as his hand slides over my sweaty nape. I lean into his touch, and as his fingers brush my racing pulse, every synapse that is misfiring in my brain instantly goes quiet. “You’re safe. He’s gone. That will never happen again, not by him or any man. Do you believe me?”
“Yes.” I know it’s just the influence of his authority working on my overwrought nervous system, but I let him lull me with his firm words and soft caresses. “I believe you.”
“Good. Now sit back and relax. We’re nearly there.”
It’s the last exchange between us until he parks in the garage, and we take the elevator down to the basement. I don’t mind the silence, because his arm is around my shoulders, and his thumb is still stroking my neck. When we reach the observation room, the table and chairs are gone, and Langston is sitting on a couch. It’s nothing like the furniture upstairs, with big, squishy cushions and a beautiful upholstery in a rose velvet. I sink onto the seat, my shoes falling off as I curl my feet beneath me. I study my mentor, drinking in his handsome face and long, hard body. He’s dressed for riding today, and the scent of his leather jacket curls around me like a smoky kiss. “Hello, Lang.”
“Hello, .” His arm is stretched across the back of the couch, and I can’t resist touching the soft, golden hairs curling around his cuff. “Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?”
It’s too complicated a question to answer, so I look past him at the mirrored wall. “How's Soren?”
Langston replies with the kind of scientific observations I usually appreciate, but there’s a buzzing in the back of my head and I can’t concentrate. I need to see for myself, so as much as I want to stay there, cocooned in his scent, I climb off the sofa and drift to the glass wall. The mess from yesterday is gone, and there are fresh linen and pillows on the bed, but I can’t see any sign of Soren in the room.
“He’s in the bathroom,” Langston tells me. “See that door in the back? He wanted to take a shower and dress before you arrived.”
“Really?” I smooth my hands over my blouse, excitement fluttering under the soft silk. “Can I go down to the other room?”
“Yes. I’m sure he’d like that.”
I hesitate, trying to think past that buzzing in the back of my mind. I want to see Soren, but there’s something else I need to do…
“My tablet?”
“It’s here, .”
Finn hands it over, and I watch his fingers for a moment, trying to think of a way to get them back on my neck. I have to give myself a mental shake, because I’m here to help Soren, not cuddle on the couch with his alphas. “Is there anything you want me to focus on specifically?”
“All of his vital readings are taken automatically,” Finn informs me, “but if he’s feeling up to it, it would be good to administer his heat and rut tests.”
I nod, but my mouth suddenly feels painfully dry. I know from reading Soren’s case file that the tests involve the collection of bodily fluids, and that he hasn’t always cooperated with the process. They were originally administered daily, but with little change in the readings – and his reluctance to participate - they’ve dropped back to weekly.
“There’s a test kit in the room,” Lang says. “Soren knows how to use it, but he might need some encouragement to share the results.”
“I’ll do what I can,” I assure them, and they both touch me – Langston on the arm and Finn on my neck, his thumb brushing against my pulse – and I have to fight the urge to purr.
I think about that as I hurry down the connecting stairs, the tablet slippery in my damp palm. Claudia is always teasing me for humming – something I supposedly even do in my sleep - but to my knowledge, I’ve never purred in my life. It’s just not an instinct that’s built into betas. We’re too practical, and we just don’t share the dynamic that causes other designations to connect on that primal level. Having said that, lots of other species mimic those around them, whether to lure in prey or to warn off predators.
Hmm. Is purring catching? It’s an interesting thought, especially since Creed let a couple slip when I was sitting on his lap last night. And then there was the ride into work this morning, which felt like one long throaty rumble. Was that Finn’s influence, or am I just confusing him with the Lamborghini’s twelve-cylinder piston engine?
I’m not sure, but a purr hovers in my throat as I reach the other room and Soren steps through the bathroom door. His hair is blue-black and curling at his ears, his cheeks flushed pink from his shower. He’s wearing jeans with designer rips at the knees, and a grey polo that hugs his lean frame. When his gaze connects with mine, his smile goes all the way from his plush lips to his sparkling black eyes. I smile back, and he strides towards me, confident yet relaxed. There’s no hint of the violence I saw yesterday, and as he gets closer, I can smell something smoky and inviting, like black tea and cloves.
“You look really good.” I hum as he comes to a stop in front of me. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Better than you’d believe.” His gaze drops to the tablet in my hand. “Are you here for an observation?”
“They were hoping you were up to taking some tests.”
I watch for any sign of annoyance, but his smile is unwavering. “I administered the slick test before my shower, and I’m happy to inform you I’m as dry as the Great Sandy Desert.” I can’t stop a snort of laughter, and he leans against the glass, his eyes dancing. “I think the official term is ‘no evidence of heat symptoms.’”
I nod and check the box on the form. “And the other test?”
“You mean my blood pressure?” There’s a teasing note in his voice, and when I glance up from the screen, his smile widens. “Oh, you mean am I in a rut? That was negative as well, but I can do it again if you need me to.”
With just a pane of glass between us, there’s no disguising the heat in his stare, and I feel an answering flush in my body. He might not be in a rut, but the dominance coming off him is all alpha. “It would be better for the report.”
He nods and walks back into the bathroom to collect the medical kit. He places it on the table, then pulls out a mouth swab and a plastic vial. Holding them up for my inspection, he opens his mouth and runs the sterile swab around a few times before putting it into the little vial of fluid. “It’s an endocrine test, so if it turns blue, it means I’m displaying the sex and stress hormones of a strapping, healthy alpha. If the result is anywhere between purple and a murky grey, then I’m going into a rut.” There’s still a note of teasing in his voice as the liquid turns a bright, deep blue. “I think we can safely say I’m in my ‘lover not a fighter’ phase.”
“But you’re registering as an alpha.” I mark that on the form, then scroll to the next page. “What about your aggression levels? Any changes from yesterday?”
He slides a glance at his neatly made bed. “Do you mean have I felt the urge to pummel any pillows or claw any comforters? The answer is no. I slept like a baby, and I even folded hospital corners on my sheets.”
“That’s great.” I make a note, wondering at the change. His notes said he rarely has periods where he’s not in an extreme state, caught between a painful heat and a furious rut. But right now, we could just be a pair of uni students sitting in the quad, talking about our projects.
Only, Soren is the project, I remind myself as I scroll down the screen. “There’s a questionnaire next…”
“Let me get comfortable first.” I expect him to head to the table, but he sinks to his knees, then slides onto his butt until he’s cross-legged in front of me, his bare toes brushing the glass. When he tilts his head back, I can see the long line of his pale throat. Soren is strikingly pretty, but he’s also undeniably male, and it’s hard not to react to that. “Lay it on me, .”
I flush at the glint of challenge in his eyes, but after a glance at the visitor chairs behind me, sink into a matching pose. “Yes or no answers only, unless I ask for follow-up.”
“Okay, but if you really want to get to know me, we could just play truth or dare...”
That warm flush under my skin grows hotter, but I shake my head, keeping my gaze firmly on the screen. “Maybe some other time. But the first question asks if you’ve engaged in a violent thought in the last hour.”
He pauses, biting his lip. “Not exactly.”
“Follow-up. Can you provide a little more detail?”
“Well, I got pissy about the runny eggs at breakfast this morning, but I ate them. Then I had a bit of a rage fit over the choice of shower gel, but that’s just because I’m addicted to Tom Ford bath products.”
I smile at his sassy response, because if there’s one thing I can relate to, it’s this. “I did the same thing, actually. We were out of body wash, and it was a toss-up between my nephew’s Spiderman gel or a sliver of soap the size of my thumbnail.”
He leans in and takes a hearty sniff through the glass. “Well, you smell pretty amazing to me, so I guess it was Spiderman to the rescue.”
I shrug, but there’s no denying I get warm all over at the compliment. “Next question. Have you engaged in a violent act in the last twenty-four hours?”
He huffs out a breath and casts a thumb over his shoulder at his bed. “I think that qualifies.”
“But nothing else?”
“Other than stabbing the eggs with more force than necessary? No.”
I mark the form then glance at the next question. Oh, boy. “Have you engaged in a sexual thought in the last hour?”
Soren squints at me. “Are you asking if my shower had a happy ending?”
“Um… you’re skipping ahead to the next question. It asks whether you acted upon any sexual thoughts.”
“Well, my mind and deeds kind of go hand-in- handy , if you know what I mean.”
He gives me an exaggerated wink, and I squirm a little, trying to block the images that flood my mind. Unfortunately, it’s a losing battle, because everything about Soren is calling to me. He’s funny and cute, but also cool and clever, and the longer I’m in his vicinity, the more my skin prickles with need.
Focus, . You’re paid to interview him, not drool over him.
“Okay. There are a couple of follow-up questions…” At his sly smile, I shake my head and scroll on. “Forget it. You’ve already given me enough to work it out.”
He leans his head against the glass and murmurs, “Spoil sport.”
I couldn’t agree more. But the itch under my skin is now getting uncomfortable, and it’s an effort to focus on the screen. “Next question. If you were provoked to anger right now, would you be able to control it?”
His face twists a little, but he gives a jerky nod. “Yes. I could walk away, assuming the guy provoking me did the same.”
I make a note of his comment, then read the last question. It’s another doozy, and I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my spine. “If you were sexually aroused right now, would you be able to control it?”
Soren gives me a long slow blink, the edge of his mouth tipping up as he studies my face. “I might need some help with this answer, I’m afraid. Control it how? Do you mean would I be able to walk away and cool down? Or do you mean would I be able to control myself enough to make it good for my partner?”
I’m pretty sure the questionnaire means the first, but my mind is fixed on option number two, and I gulp at the pheromones I can smell leaking through the glass. Forget about Soren’s sexual urges, I’m now drowning in desire. That objectivity I was clinging to has evaporated into a pheromone-soaked mist, and as for the ‘observe but don’t touch’ rule? If I could melt the glass between us, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
It doesn’t help that Soren gives a throaty chuckle, his grin exposing a dimple in his left cheek. He’s so attractive it’s almost painful, and my heart is fluttering so fast, I almost miss the sudden cramp in my belly.
What the hell?
I freeze, trying to make sense of the feeling, when the next sharp jab has me hissing in pain.
Could it just be from skipping breakfast? Coffee withdrawal, on top of a crappy night’s sleep…
But as I arch my back to relieve the strain, my hand slaps against the glass and a moan slips from my lips. Soren’s laughter dies away, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest. When I lift pained eyes to his face, his pupils are dilated, his lips parted enough for me to see a stud in his tongue.
“Oh, shit!”
My hand slips off the glass, and this time the cramp is deeper, right down in my core. I rub myself through my trousers, but I can’t stop a flush of wetness soaking into the too-tight fabric. “Oh, God. Did I just…?”
I can’t finish the question. The explanation for my symptoms – the itch under my skin, the purrs I can’t swallow, and now the pain and heat blooming between my thighs - doesn’t compute, but my scientist’s brain can’t ignore the facts.
How is it freaking possible?
As I roll forward onto my knees, the next cramp has me plastered to the glass. It feels like ice against my sweaty skin and Soren crowds right up against the other side, his eyes wild. “? Are you hurt?”
“I’m not sure…” I pant, swallowing back a whimper that feels like it’s dredged from the bottom of my soul. “But I think I need to borrow one of your heat tests.”