Page 11 of Examining the Bond

CHAPTER FIVE

SKYLAR

I slowly swivel side to side in my desk chair, staring blankly ahead as my mind wanders. I’ve asked myself the same question at least a dozen times, but I’m no closer to an answer than I was an hour ago when I left Riann’s exam room.

What the hell was that?

I take a deep breath, then another, trying to collect myself. Riann’s marshmallow perfume is burned into my brain, as is every stunning detail of her face. Her vibrant red hair, her piercing blue eyes, her pouty lips…

My heart hammers in my chest, the thud of my pulse loud in my ears as I try to understand what’s happening.

She’s not my scent match—at least, I don’t think she is—but there’s definitelysomethingthere. A desperate need, an intense desire. I’ve never felt like this about an omega before, especially one I just met.

It's unsettling, and I blow out a hurried breath, dragging a hand through my hair.

None of this makes sense.

She's a patient, not a potential mate.

Not to mention, she's not an omega. She probably doesn’t even want an alpha in her life.

And she's nineteen…That’s a seven year age gap.

I groan and drop my head back, staring up at the ceiling. There’s no way I can entertain this—any of it. I just have to get through the tests, figure out what the last clinic couldn’t, and send her on her way.

A knock at the door makes me jump, and I quickly compose myself.

“Dr. Morales,” a beta nurse says, poking her head in the door. Her dark hair is tied back into a long ponytail. “The test results for Miss Saunders are in.” She waves a folder in the air. “Do you want them on your desk?”

“Umm, y-yes. Yes.” I clear my throat. “That’ll be fine.”

Her brows knit together, and she purses her lips. “Are you okay?”

I freeze, mustering every shred of professionalism I can. “I’m fine, Mackenzie. Why do you ask?”

“You just seem a bit… frazzled, that’s all.” She hesitates like she’s trying to decide whether or not to press the issue, before stepping inside to put the folder on my desk. Then, she slips back into the hall.

I wait until the door clicks closed before I snatch up the folder, desperate to know the results. I ordered a deep pheromone diagnostic, as well as the most in-depth blood panel we offer, to rule out anything the last clinic might have missed. Basically, a charcuterie board of tests, and I have high hopes that one of them will have picked up on something.

Hopefully, it’s an easy fix, and I can start putting all this behind me once Riann leaves.

My eyes spill over the paper inside, drinking in the information. I read the results once. Blink like it’ll somehow change the text on the paper. Read them again.

“What the…?” I slow down and read them for a third time.

Every last test is normal.

Fuck.

So much for an easy diagnosis…

Normal results mean we’re back to square one. We’ll have to run more obscure tests, but I can barely focus enough to consider which ones. The only thing I can think about is marching back to that exam room and drowning myself in the sweet, gooey scent I can’t get off my mind.

The minutes drag by as I sit at my desk, staring down at the results. When I realize I’ve stalled too long, I grab up the folder and head for Riann’s exam room.

Mulling over the information in my hands—or lack thereof—I run through the practiced script I use to break unwanted news to patients. Then, I try to reword it to soften the blow.

How can I break the news to her so she resents me a little less?