Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
SKYLAR
The hundred lunges I did on my lunch break didn’t help get Riann off my mind. Neither did the jog through the nearby park, though it made my thighs scream after all the reps.
By the time I get ready to leave for the day, she’s still infiltrating my thoughts, distracting me from my work and—more importantly—the next steps I’ll take if the pheromone injection has no effect on her.
I can’t focus on anything but her features as I mentally retrace them, mapping them like my life depends on it.
I run through every detail I know about her, like dwelling on them will somehow bring us closer.
Obsessed. It’s the best way to describe how I feel, but even admitting it makes me feel insane. I shouldn’t feel this way about a woman I just met, especially not a patient who’s trusting me with their future.
I’m a doctor. I’m supposed to put my patient’s well-being above everything else, but all I can think about is the stunning little omega in her oversized hoodie and what she might look like wearing one of mine.
Fuck.
This feels so wrong.
Not to mention, she’s only nineteen—seven years younger than me.
Dios mío…
Collecting my things as I get ready to leave for the day, I walk down the hall toward the lobby.
Gwin is already gone, her desk vacant, and there isn’t anyone lingering around, which is normal for the late afternoon.
As I pass the sign-in desk, I catch a faint whiff of marshmallows and freeze, my heart shooting into my throat.
I whirl around, looking for Riann, even though I know she’s long gone. She might not be here, but that’s definitely her scent.
With a cautious look around for any passersby, I creep through the lobby with my nose in the air, following the elusive scent. I do a lap around the seating area feeling like a lunatic, wondering if I actually smell rich sugar or if I’m just losing my mind.
I’m almost convinced it’s the latter until I head back toward Gwin’s desk. The scent grows slightly stronger, causing my pulse to lurch.
I stop in front of the desk and inhale a breath, long and slow. My nose leads me to the little flower pot full of pens that people use to sign in and out of the clinic. One by one, I pick through them, bringing each to my nose until I find it.
Marshmallows dance through my sinuses as I clutch the pen, and the image of Riann comes rushing back.
What I wouldn’t give to bottle this aroma, so I could carry it around with me.
The perfect little gourmand perfume…
Taking another deep whiff of the pen, I move to put it back, but I stop myself a second later. I could leave the pen for someone else to take, or I could treasure it as my own little reminder of Riann.
The correct choice is obvious.
I should put it down and walk away.
I shouldn’t tease myself by clinging to the scent of a woman I can’t have, but I don’t fucking care.
With the pen still clutched in my hand like a lifeline, I turn on the spot and head for the door.
I climb into my black BMW and start the engine, sitting there for a moment while the car warms up and I decide where to go from here. It’s not like I have any plans; I never do. But something stops me from going straight home the way I normally would.
Perhaps it’s because I know Riann is staying at the hotel next to the Buchanan Center tonight, and driving away from the clinic means driving away from her. Or maybe it’s because I know once I get home there won’t be anything to distract me from my own thoughts, the ones currently consumed by her.
If I go home, the only thing I’ll have to distract myself is the gym—which is never a bad thing—but since working out on my lunch break did nothing to sway my thoughts, I doubt sweating it out will do anything.
I back out of my parking spot and drive to where the lot meets the main road. I can just see the top of the hotel peeking out above the Buchanan Center, and my alpha urges spike. Riann is so close, probably getting ready for the night.
The thought of going to find her briefly crosses my mind before I violently beat it back. Not only could I lose my job for tracking down a patient, but she’d probably call the cops.
It’s stupid and a little embarrassing that I’m acting this way, like a lost puppy trying to find its way home, but I can’t control the assault of emotions fighting inside me.
This isn’t a scent match, I remind myself.
I've studied scents, bonds, and pheromones for years. If there’s one thing I know, it’s designation studies. It’s what I’m good at, what I’m known for.
If this was a scent match, I’d know.
Still, I can’t explain what’s happening to me or to Riann. I’ve never been so confused in my entire life. All I know is that it’s not normal, and I need to get myself together until I can figure it out.
As soon as I hit puberty, it was clear I wasn’t an omega.
I outgrew all my female friends, and I was far from being gentle and dainty.
The way my body was shaped, my personality, my drive to be successful.
I was emerging as an alpha even before I presented.
I prayed endlessly to whatever god might be listening to make me anything else.
I didn’t want to be an alpha.
One of the reasons I chose to study genetic research was because I read so much about it after I presented, trying to figure out why all my female friends became omegas and I didn’t. I wanted explanations; I wanted to understand why it happened to me.
I wanted someone to take care of me. I wanted to be emotional and vulnerable, which is hard when I’m supposed to be tough and fierce like my designation demands.
If I’d been given the choice back then, I would have chosen any designation other than an alpha.
Hell, my eighteen-year-old self would have been overjoyed to be a beta like my sister, Lana.
With a huff, I check the rearview mirror to make sure no one is waiting on me to move before continuing my silent debate.
I could hit the town, maybe go eat at a nice restaurant or something.
I could go to the bar and chat up a bartender, just to avoid going home and being stuck alone with my thoughts.
None of it sounds appealing, but the thought of staying out a little while longer beats going home.
Should I invite someone? The thought is brief. It’s not like I have anyone to invite.
I’ve been a hermit for so long, always keeping to myself when I’m not at work, that reaching out to old friends feels like introducing myself to strangers.
No thanks.
The only person I can think to call, and who I wouldn’t mind spending some time with, is my sister.
However, she’s probably busy editing client photos or something for her photography business.
After hiring a social media manager, her business went semi-viral, and she’s been booked solid ever since.
I’m happy for her, and so proud, but I haven’t seen her in like a month. I doubt she’d even want to go.
After a moment of indecision, I pull out my phone and scroll to her name. As it rings, the sound comes through the car speakers, and I’m surprised when she answers.
“Skylar!” Lana shrieks, and I frantically turn down the radio volume. “Cómo estás?”
“Bien, bien,” I say, checking the rearview mirror again as the car idles. “Just got off work.”
“Are you headed home now?” she asks. Even though I rarely see her, she knows me so well.
“Nah, I was thinking about going to grab some food or something in the city,” I admit, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. “You’re probably busy, but I wanted to see if you’d go with me.”
“Actually…” She draws out the word, and my hope soars. “I just finished up a session downtown. I could meet you somewhere if you want.”
“Yeah. That’d be great.” I pull out onto the main road leading downtown, my gaze flicking up at the grant-funded hotel as I pass by. A second later, my eyes are on the road again. “You want to go to Ritual?”
Lana gasps. “Skylar, you know that’s my favorite. What did you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you going to ask me for a favor?” Her voice turns skeptical. “Because you don’t have to take me to dinner to—”
“No, no favors,” I cut her off. “I just need to get out of the house, that's all.”
There's a beat of silence before she replies, “Sure. I’ll see you there.”