Chapter 4 West
four
West
The little siren sits across the room from me, her fiery red hair only slightly more tamed than when I saw her last.
Which was an hour ago, shakily getting to her feet beside an unconscious alpha easily twice her size.
Sam and I saw the whole thing on the security feed from the control room. Dr. Brooks had us sit in and watch the siren's second altercation of the day like some kind of fucked up viewing party, only allowing us to go to her aid when she had successfully knocked him out.
I fucking hate that guy.
Don't get me started on Banesworth, either. His eyes were glued to the screen like he couldn't wait to break her.
Her spirit, her fire, her…everything.
Part of me thinks Brooks purposely sent Lars that way just to see what would happen. The bastard is having way too much fun with this omega.
My eyes had darted to Sam's, as if to say, "Isn't this enough? Isn't this the proof we need?" but he had only shook his head. If we want this place to go down, we need more than just mistreatment of patients. As horrible as it is, those situations are a dime a dozen around the country.
No, we need more information on Henry Whitmore—the head of everything pharmaceutical related and the brains behind everything that goes on here—and that can't happen if we get ourselves fired for disobeying direct orders.
I was prepared for her to be a lot worse off than she was after facing off a bastard like Lars.
I'm sure I'm not supposed to think of my patients as bastards, but the guy is sick. His parents pleaded insanity when he wouldn’t stop killing their neighbor’s pets.
Imagine my shock when she walked away only needing an icepack and some painkillers.
One minute I had been racing towards her, my heart pounding in fear as I prepared to act like I had no idea what was actually going on, and the next, I'm trying not to laugh as she innocently tells me that Lars…tripped.
There's something about her that draws me in, and even though I'm not an alpha, it's bothering me that I can't get a single whiff of scent from her.
I know that Whitmore gave Brooks a specialized concoction for the omega, and I'm guessing that included a scent blocker.
They don't do it for alphas, because honestly, the scent of a horny alpha isn't going to send other alphas into a rut.
An omega though? The instinct tamping might dull her scent, but it would never get rid of it completely.
I can't help but wonder what her scent would be. She's from the south, so maybe something…peachy? Or definitely something fruity.
I've never even been interested in an omega before. I'm a beta. It's not a common pairing.
What the fuck am I thinking? The issue isn't that she's an omega. It's that she's my patient. Forbidden. I'm technically in a position of power over her, even though I'm ninety percent sure she’s capable of killing me at least four different ways before I could even call for help.
As if sensing my thoughts, her green eyes roam over me, and I can't tell if it's out of interest or apprehension.
"Jo," I start, leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees, "for this first session, I'd just like to spend a little time getting to know you." I'm damn proud of how professional my voice sounds. It's hard as hell keeping a mild demeanor when the only thing separating us is a coffee table.
Her nose wrinkles adorably as she frowns at me, her arms crossed over her chest. She motions to her patient file on the table between us with her chin.
"Don't you have everythin' you need to know 'bout me right there, Doc?
" Fuck, that accent does something to me.
Not a big fan of her calling me "Doc" though.
I have a feeling that's what she calls all the doctors. All the ones who have done nothing but hurt her. It’s clear in her tone, the dismissiveness, the disdain.
I don't want to be that.
I swipe the folder off the coffee table and toss it on my desk in the corner. "I don't believe that a simple file can tell the whole story of a person, Josephine." She frowns at the use of her full name, and I know it was a dick move, but I'm trying to prove a point here.
"It's Jo," she huffs, her eyes narrowing at me. "I don't have much patience for my full name, Doc."
"It's West." I give her a small smile. "I don't have much patience for 'Doc'. Don't lump me in with them."
It’s obvious I’ve hit the nail on the head when she arches one brow. "Why shouldn't I? Are you any different?"
I shrug. "I try to be. I'm not here because I want to be, Jo. I…" Fuck. I shouldn't have said that. Her eyes widen in surprise at my words and I quickly try to recover. "I…my dad is good friends with Dr. Brooks. I owed him a favor."
Not a complete lie, but not the whole truth either. This woman is turning me into a mess and she hasn't even been in my office ten minutes.
A shiver runs through her, and she shakes her head. "Ugh. I hate that guy."
"Me too." The words leave me unbidden, and my shocked gaze meets hers before she bursts out laughing. A full, unrestrained belly laugh that makes my insides light up. Fuck, what else can I do so I just hear nothing but that sound the rest of my life?
"I promise to not tell him you said that as long as you don't tell him I said it first." She wipes a tear from her eye.
"Deal." I grin, pleased with myself. "Let's start small. What's your favorite color?"
She thinks for a moment, before shrugging. "Red, I 'spose."
Interesting.
"And no, not 'cause it's the 'color of blood'." She rolls her eyes. "Dr. Nelson once spent an entire session tryin' to convince me that's why. I got so tired of it I changed my mind and told him it was blue."
"Sounds like a quack." I blurt out, and she laughs again. What is it about this woman that takes away my ability to not say the first thing that comes to mind?
"Yeah, he really was."
"Is he the one you stabbed in the leg?"
She stiffens, and something hard flashes in her eyes. She sits up straighter, her shoulders rolling back slightly. The laidback, casual girl I had five minutes ago is gone, and in her place is someone cold and calculating.
"Why, yes he was." She gives me a saccharine smile, the chill in her eyes sends a shiver through me. "Wouldn't stop callin' me Josephine."
"I think there's more to it than that, Jo," I say carefully, studying her closely. I don't think I'm in any danger, but the sudden change is…disconcerting.
"Why would you think that, West?" She draws out my name, something sweet and sticky lacing her tone.
"Because…" I shift in my chair, really hoping I'm hiding my boner well. I'm learning a whole lot of new things about myself today. "You didn't stab me when I said it earlier."
She laughs. A cold, hard laugh, completely unlike the one that came out of her earlier.
"Doctor Monroe, would you like to know the best thing about bein’ considered insane by everyone ’round you?
" I don't answer, but I don't think she's expecting me to because in the next second, she's answering her own question.
"You can say words that are the absolute truth, and if it sounds a little far-fetched, they dismiss the whole thing as delusion. "
"Why is that the best thing?" I ask, my heart starting to pound rapidly. Am I afraid of her? Yeah. Am I also turned on?
Unfortunately, also yes.
Maybe I need to check myself into this facility.
She smiles at me sharp and cutting. "What if I told you that every single alpha I killed was in preparation to come here?
What if I said that I left a trail on my thirteenth kill, purposely connected myself to each murder, then waited patiently outside the burnt remains of Daddy's old trailer for them to arrest me?
What if I told you, Doctor Monroe, that I stabbed Doc Nelson in the leg with my shiv because I needed to get here, and that I'm runnin’ out of time? Would you call me delusional?"
If it were anyone else, my answer would be a resounding yes.
But I've always had this…capability. A sixth sense.
A gut feeling. An ability to tell whether or not someone is lying.
I don't know if I'm just really good at reading people, or what else it could be, but when I look into Jo's eyes and see the pain she's trying to hide, the anger… I know she's not.
However, every single piece of information she just told me will put her in danger, and I can't let her know that I believe her.
"Yes." The word burns coming out, and I'm not sure if I've ever felt worse than when I see that brief flash of disappointment in her eyes.
"I wouldn't…" I clear my throat. "I wouldn't go sharing that around, Jo.
Delusion or not, if the wrong person heard… "
"Got it. Looks like you're not that different after all." She rolls her eyes, crossing her legs. Her body couldn't be more closed off to me if she rolled into a ball like an armadillo. "We done here?"
I give her a sad smile. "No, we still have…" I check my watch, "fifteen minutes. But…" I sigh, motioning to my bookshelf. "I think we've done enough heavy stuff today. If you want to read a book off my bookshelf for the remainder of the time you're welcome to."
She eyes me warily a moment before sniffing and getting up to go to my bookshelf. I don't see what she picks, but I try not to let the little omega catch onto the fact that her new psychologist is completely and utterly obsessed with her.