39. Icarus
Chapter thirty-nine
"Dr. Valentine!"
I spin around to see Crystal, a lab assistant for one of my colleagues, walking towards me from the other end of the hall. She smiles, her brown eyes soft in the low light.
It's hard to maintain a sunny disposition this morning. Jordan came home late from her weird date with Rafe, floating happily into bed. I cannot get a straight answer from Jordan or Cyrus about what was said during their confrontation, and she's been a little strange since then.
Mainly, she's been more reserved and in her head. Sometimes, I wish I could use an otoscope to watch what's going on in that brain of hers.
At least Rafe got her out of it for an evening.
Crystal takes a few steps towards me, blowing her purple bangs off her forehead. She changes her hair color frequently, but Dr. Talbot doesn't seem to mind. Last month, it was bright yellow. It's unusual to see someone so young in a role like this, which makes it all the more impressive that she got the certifications required to be Dr. Talbot's right hand.
"What's up, Crystal?" I say, forcing a smile.
"Dr. Talbot found some more studies that may help shine some light on that gene you're studying. The repressed Omega one." She holds out a folder to me, humming a song under her breath.
I flip through the papers, forgoing the studies and notice sheet after sheet of genome analysis. "That's interesting," I say, leaning against the wall. "Are these all late-presenting Omegas?"
"Mhm, yep. They've all been under his treatment at one time or another for different things." She flushes and ducks her head.
I narrow my eyes at her. "Dr. Talbot found these, did he?" Walter Talbot is an aloof man who only cares about his pet projects. Right now, it's gene therapy for chronic illnesses. I was surprised he even considered looking into this for me, but I guess he does owe me a favor for covering for him a few times while he went on vacation.
"Well," she says cagily, "he didn't tell me to do it, but he didn't not tell me to so…" She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. "When I read the initial studies, I thought maybe I could find some data to back your theory up."
I motion for her to follow me into my office. She unbuttons her lab coat as she sits down, crossing her feet at the ankles. She sits primly, like an Omega who went to finishing school. I'm sure she must have since she got a secondary education. I shrug off my coat and lay it on the back of my chair before spreading out the genomes in front of me.
"You see, here," Crystal points at a line in one of the codes, "is the gene." She pulls a sheet of paper out from behind it. "And here." Another page. "And this one too."
"And all they have is common is they're late presenting?"
Crystal crosses her arms over her chest with a smug smile. "No, that's not all."
"Are you going to make me beg for it?" Crystal is significantly younger than me, probably in her mid-twenties, but she's proven to be more than capable in the time she's worked for the Design Clinic. She's playful and not yet jaded by the world.
"Of course not," she chuckles. "They all have scent matched packs."
I raise a brow, leaning back a little in my chair. "When did they meet them?"
"They all knew at least one member of the pack before they presented."
My feet hit the floor, and I sit up straighter. "How many examples of this do you have?"
Crystal hums and examines her nails like she has no cares in the world. "Not many. Only fifty or so."
"Fifty! Crystal, that's massive! This is a huge breakthrough. With this, we could get a study funded easily. Why haven't you told Dr. Talbot?"
She drops her shoulders, looking down at her feet. "I don't have the time for a research project. I work a second job." I slump back in my chair dejectedly and she gives me a small smile. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't run with this. Dr. Talbot won't give this the care it needs, and you know it. He won't be sympathetic to the women who may have this gene but haven't presented."
"I wouldn't feel right doing this without you, Crystal. This is your discovery." I flip the folder closed and stare at it. My mind is running rampant at the potential within. This could explain why we have always had so many fewer Omegas than other designations. If we could figure out how to activate this gene in all women with it, it would change everything.
Crystal fiddles with her lab coat and smiles sadly. "I appreciate you are thinking of me, but trust me on this one. You don't want me attached to this." She pushes to stand, wavering slightly on her too-tall heels. "Run with this, Dr. Valentine. There are so many people out there that you could help with this."
"Do you want to come work for me, Crystal?" I blurt. It's tacky to poach a colleague's employee, but I could use someone like Crystal on my team.
She looks over her shoulder at me, sadness in her brown eyes. "I wish, Dr. Valentine, but I have to be where I am now."
I watch the Omega leave before opening the folder back up. It would be wrong to keep this information from society. As much as I wish Crystal would be a part of a study on this with me, I can't hold it back. Jordan wouldn't want me to. If I could find a way to save other Omegas from the pain she went through, I have to do it.
The savory smell of sautéed veggies fills my nose as soon as I open the door to the condo.
"Sunshine!" I call as I round the corner. "Are you making dinner?"
Jordan spins around from her position at the stove and smiles softly. I can still see the weight of everything that is going on in the corner of her eyes, but she's putting on a good face. Slime sits at the island, slowly chopping red onion and tomato.
"I decided to make fajitas," Jordan says as she quickly kisses me. "Steak alright? I think I can scrounge up some shrimp in the back of the freezer…"
"Let's save the freezer-burnt shrimp for another time." Slime snorts a laugh, and Jordan picks up the stem of a bell pepper and pegs him between the eyes with it.
The Alpha howls and dramatically throws himself off the stool, wailing about losing an eye.
"Shush, ya big baby," Jordan admonishes. "Or I'll give you something to cry about."
That gets Slime up on his feet. "Promise?"
Suddenly, it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. The tension between them is so thick, and I can feel arousal pulsing from Jordan through the bond.
It almost killed me when she fucked Slime the other day. She was so turned on that my dick was a steel rod in my pants. I need to teach her to shut down the bond if she isn't going to invite me to join in.
Slime takes several tentative steps towards Jordan and wraps his hands around her waist. He casts a furtive glance at me, asking my permission, before pulling her body flush to his.
Watching the way my Omega's body moves when she's turned on is unfathomably erotic. The way her hips twist and buck as Slime lowers his mouth to hers, the little pants of breath she gets out, the way her fingers grip his cut.
Fuck.
I'm not into men, but Slime is beautiful, with his creamy pale skin covered with ink and that mop of vibrant green hair. I would be lying if I said the idea of seeing him twisted up with Jordan is unappealing.
As they kiss, their bodies move in sync with one another, and I try to adjust myself stealthily. Jordan catches my movement from the corner of her eye, and she pulls away from Slime with a chuckle, reaching out to me.
She takes my hand in hers when I step forward and pulls me towards the two of them. I move to stand behind her, boxing her between us. Slime grabs her chin and captures her in another sweet kiss, and I press my hard cock against her ass as I kiss and nip down her neck, paying special attention to my bite mark.
When I suck my bite mark into my mouth, she moans loudly, her knees buckling. "Oh, did you like that, sunshine?" I purr against her flesh. "Do you like being at the whim of your Alphas?"
She hums in agreement around Slime's lips.
I know she hasn't fully forgiven Pack Stargazer, but Slime appears to be the exception if the way she is pulling him against her body is any indication.
Vaguely, in the back of my mind, I'm aware of my nose starting to tickle, of the air getting thick. But I can't focus on that because Jordan's neck is stretched out in front of me, her breasts heaving, and I am snaking my hands around her body to pinch her nipples while I suck on my bite mark.
A loud beeping fills the space, and we jump apart as Cyrus runs in. "What the fuck?" he shouts, waving a towel in front of the smoke detector. "What did you guys do?"
Jordan slinks back to the stove and pulls the vegetables off the burner, wrinkling her nose at what she sees in the pan. "I think the top layer is salvageable?"
I reach around her and grab an onion from the top of the pan as the smoke detector stops its cries. "We should start fresh," I say softly.
"Yeah," she sighs. "I think a fresh start is a good idea."