Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
HOLLY
Dr. Mercer’s booming voice echoes down the clinic hallway as he berates a nurse for filing lab results in the wrong folder.
I wince, keeping my head down as I update patient charts at the nurses’ station.
It’s been three days since he returned to take over as my supervisor, and I’m already fantasizing about Noah’s return from his rotation out to the main hospital in Anchorage.
“Dr. Chang!” Mercer’s voice shifts in my direction, suddenly honey-sweet. “Follow me, please.”
I paste on my most professional smile and follow him into Exam Room 2, where eight-year-old Emma Frost sits on the table, her mother Lila hovering nearby. Emma’s condition has deteriorated since I first saw her—the rash now covers most of her arms, and dark circles shadow her eyes.
“Dr. Chang will just be observing today,” Mercer announces, not bothering to look at me. “She’s still learning how we do things here.”
My jaw tightens. I’ve seen Emma and her twin brother twice since starting at the clinic, building rapport and trust, while Mercer was gone.
He seems to think that I spent the week with Noah sitting at the nurse’s station and twiddling my thumbs, waiting for him to come back and teach me something.
But I swallow my irritation and nod politely.
“Hello, Emma,” I say, moving to stand where she can see me. “How are you feeling today?”
Before she can answer, Mercer cuts in. “Now, now, Dr. Chang. Let’s maintain proper examination protocol. History first, then physical assessment.”
I step back, my cheeks burning with frustrated embarrassment. Emma gives me a small, sympathetic smile that breaks my heart a little.
“Mrs. Frost,” Mercer begins, flipping through Emma’s chart without actually reading it, “your daughter has a viral rash and mild fever from an infection. Nothing to be concerned about.”
“But Dr. Chang said—“ Lila starts.
“Dr. Chang is still in training,” Mercer interrupts smoothly. “I’m sure she meant well, but sometimes residents can be a bit...overzealous in their diagnoses.”
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood.
Last week, I’d explained to Lila my theory that Emma’s symptoms might not be due to an infection, but some sort of environmental exposure.
Lila had their house checked for mold, but nothing came of it.
I’d ordered more specialized tests, which Mercer promptly canceled upon his return.
“What about the metallic taste she’s been reporting?” Lila persists. “And the tremors?”
“Anxiety,” Mercer dismisses with a wave. “Children pick up on their parents’ stress. The more you worry, the worse her symptoms will get.”
I watch Lila deflate, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Emma’s eyes find mine, silently pleading for help.
“Dr. Mercer,” I venture carefully, “I’ve been tracking another similar case with a child in town. The symptoms are consistent across—“
“Dr. Chang.” His voice cuts like a scalpel. “A word outside, please.”
In the hallway, Mercer’s friendly facade vanishes. “Listen carefully,” he says, looming over me. “I don’t need a grass-green resident creating panic about some sort of pandemic you’ve cooked up. These are normal childhood illnesses that will resolve with time.”
“But the pattern—“
“Is coincidental.” His eyes narrow. “Your wilderness certification requires my recommendation, does it not?”
The threat hangs in the air between us.
“Yes, sir,” I mumble.
“Good. Then we understand each other.” His smile returns, plastic and cold. “Now, let’s finish with the Frost girl and move on. I have a golf game this afternoon.”
Back in the exam room, I watch helplessly as Mercer prescribes an antihistamine for Emma’s rash and sends them on their way with instructions to “worry less.” As soon as they leave, I duck into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, trying to calm the fury bubbling in my chest.
This is temporary, I remind myself. Just get through the next few weeks. Get the certification. Move on from working under Mercer’s thumb.
But the image of Emma’s trusting eyes haunts me as I dry my hands and return to the nurses’ station.
Dr. Mercer is holding court with the staff, regaling them with stories from his recent medical conference. I slide into a chair and pretend to be absorbed in paperwork.
“...and then the speaker had the audacity to suggest we should have more omega physicians!” Mercer laughs, shaking his head. “Can you imagine? An omega in emergency medicine? They’d be useless half the time, going into heat or getting distracted by every alpha who walks through the door.”
Several staff members chuckle uncomfortably. I keep my eyes fixed on my computer screen, my fingers frozen over the keyboard.
“No offense to omegas, of course,” Mercer continues magnanimously. “They’re wonderful in pediatrics, excellent with children. But emergency medicine requires a certain... stability of temperament.”
“Omegas are just as capable of controlling their biological responses as everyone else,” I hear myself say, the words escaping before I can stop them.
The room goes quiet. Mercer turns to me, eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Well, well. An omega advocate, are we?” His tone is light, but his eyes are calculating. “Do you have many omega friends, Dr. Chang?”
“A few,” I say carefully. “At least one in my medical school class.”
“Hmm. I suppose times do change somewhat. I would be fine with my wife seeing an omega obstetrician to manage her pregnancy. That makes a certain sort of sense.” He studies me for a moment.
“But just think of a situation closer to home, Dr. Chang. An omega would never have managed that cave rescue the other day. Too much pressure, too many competing scents from all those alpha EMS workers distracting them. They’d have worse than useless. ”
I force a tight smile, my stomach churning. If he only knew that an omega had performed that emergency thoracentesis without even noticing the pheromones of the alphas who couldn’t even fit inside the cave to help.
I want him to yell that the patient would have died without a trained omega on site, but bite my tongue hard until the urge fades.
“Speaking of that rescue,” Mercer continues, “I’ve been meaning to discuss your technique. While effective, there were several procedural—“
“Excuse me, Dr. Mercer.”
Noah’s voice cuts through the conversation like a lifeline. I look up to see him standing in the doorway, his expression professionally neutral but his eyes burning with something that makes my pulse quicken.
“Dr. Klinkhart,” Mercer says, surprised. “I thought you were out until tomorrow.”
“Decided to drive back today instead of spending another night. Found myself eager to get home,” Noah replies smoothly. “May I borrow Dr. Chang? I have some literature review to do and could use another set of eyes.”
Mercer waves a dismissive hand. “By all means. She still has a lot to learn.”
I gather my things quickly, before Mercer can change his mind, and follow Noah down the hallway. He doesn’t speak until we reach the small clinic library, ushering me inside and closing the door behind us.
“Are you okay?” he asks immediately, his professional mask dropping away.
“Fine,” I say automatically, then sigh at his skeptical look. “No, not really. Working with Mercer is…a challenge.”
“I could feel your distress through the bond,” Noah says, moving closer. “It woke me up in my hotel room last night.”
I blink in surprise. “You felt that all the way from Fairbanks?”
“Distance doesn’t seem to matter much.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing over my lower lip. “So, I came back early.”
“For me?” The question slips out, vulnerable and uncertain.
“For you,” he confirms, his voice dropping to that low register that makes my omega instincts sit up and beg. “Technically, I’m not your supervisor anymore, so hitting on you at work is only sexual harassment if it’s unwanted.”
Heat floods my body, pooling low in my abdomen.
“It’s very much wanted,” I breathe.
Noah’s pupils dilate, his scent sharpening with desire. In one fluid motion, he lifts me onto the library table, scattering medical journals in all directions. His mouth finds mine in a kiss that’s all hunger and need, his hands gripping my hips to pull me against him.
I moan softly as his tongue slides against mine, my legs wrapping around his waist. The stress and frustration of the past few days melt away under the heat of his touch.
“I can feel your unhappiness through the bond,” Noah murmurs against my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. “It’s like sandpaper under my skin. I need to make you feel better.”
His hands slide up my scrub top, fingers tracing patterns on my bare skin that make me shiver. I reach for his belt, desperate to feel more of him, but he catches my wrists gently.
“Not yet,” he says, his voice rough with restraint. “This is about you.”
Before I can protest, he’s sinking to his knees in front of me, pushing my scrub pants and underwear down in one efficient movement. The cool air of the library hits my heated skin, making me gasp.
“Noah, we can’t—someone might—“
“Mercer will take off early now that he knows I’m back and no one else comes in here,” he assures me, looking up with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “And if they try, the door is locked.”
Any further objections die in my throat as he presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh, his stubble creating a delicious friction against my sensitive skin. My head falls back, a whimper escaping me as his mouth moves higher.
The first touch of his tongue against my core sends electricity shooting up my spine. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, my hands clutching the edge of the table for support. Noah works me with the same precision and focus he brings to medicine—methodical, thorough, and devastatingly effective.
“You taste like heaven,” he growls against me, the vibration of his voice adding another layer of sensation. “I’ve been thinking about this since I left.”
My hips buck involuntarily as he slides a finger inside me, curling it to hit exactly the right spot while his tongue continues its relentless assault. The dual stimulation pushes me rapidly toward the edge, tension building at the base of my spine.
“Noah,” I gasp, one hand moving to tangle in his hair. “I’m going to—“
“Let go,” he commands, the alpha timbre in his voice impossible to resist. “Come for me, Holly. Come for me, my pretty little omega.”
The orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, stealing my breath and vision. I bite down on my free hand to muffle my cries as my body convulses with pleasure. Noah works me through it, gentling his touch as the aftershocks subside, until I’m a boneless, panting mess on the library table.
When I finally regain my senses, he’s standing between my legs again, looking entirely too pleased with himself. I reach for his belt buckle, intent on returning the favor, but he catches my hands and brings them to his lips, kissing each palm.
“That would be inappropriate for the workplace,” he says with a mischievous smile, helping me adjust my clothes back into place.
I roll my eyes, still floating in post-orgasmic bliss. “But what you just did wasn’t?”
“Nope, because pleasuring you is essentially a team-building exercise. I can’t concentrate when I feel you suffering.” His expression turns serious, a hand coming up to stroke my cheek. “I’m your alpha. It’s my responsibility to take care of you.”
The simple admission makes my chest ache with tenderness. This alpha—my alpha—crossed half the state because he felt my distress. It’s still so new, this bond between us, but moments like this make me wonder how I ever thought I could live without it.
But he still hasn’t offered to bond you back. None of them has.
It’s been getting harder to ignore the slithering voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like my mother.
Noah and the other men have been amazing, but I can’t fight off the voice of insecurity in my head that assures me they’re just having fun while it’s easy.
They don’t have any intention of turning this into something permanent.
Pushing down that traitorous voice, I briefly lean into Noah’s touch. “Thank you.”
Noah smiles and strokes my cheek softly before pulling away. “Now, you should get back out there. Mercer probably left you a stack of charts to get through.”
“Is that my attending talking, Dr. Klinkhart?” I tease, sliding off the table on slightly wobbly legs.
“Absolutely.” He steals one more quick kiss. “And tonight, when you get home, I’ll show you just how unprofessional I can be.”
The promise sends a fresh wave of heat through me. I straighten my scrubs, attempting to look composed and professional despite the lingering flush I’m sure is visible on my cheeks.
“I’ll hold you to that,” I say, forcing myself to head to the door despite an overwhelming urge to wrap myself around him and not let go.
Feeling me through the bond might have been a distraction from work for him, but his physical presence is very much a distraction for me.
As I settle down in front of all the work Dr. Mercer left me for me, I remind myself that I have three amazing alphas to go back to when this shift is over.
But that doesn’t stop the voice from whispering in my ear.
You have them for now. What happens later?