Page 12 of Examining the Bond

How would I break the news if she was my mate?

I stop short, just outside her door, and scold myself. My insides twist at the thought, and I quickly shove it away.

She’s not my mate.

She could never be my mate.

Even if she was an omega, she wouldn’t want an alpha like me. I can’t offer her a pack or a mansion, though my two-story house on the lake is spacious enough for two people. Besides, the omegas I’ve dated didn’t think I was enough to keep them happy.

Why would she?

Pressing two fingers against my temple, I massage away the headache starting to form. If I can’t control myself, I might see if our part-time specialist—Dr. Martin—can take her on as a patient when he gets back. She can stay in the hotel next door until then.

I could say something came up, that there was a conflict of interest.

I could tell him that I can’t properly diagnose her when the only thing I can think about is nuzzling my face into her neck and breathing in her scent until it's permanently embedded in my lungs…

That I want to pin her against a wall and kiss her until neither of us can breathe…

Shit.

I’m in so much trouble.

With a knock, I step into the room. The second her blue eyes find mine, heat spreads through my center, and I try my best to ignore it. I divert my gaze, pretending to be interested in the chart I’m holding and not the way her pouty lips are parted.

“So,” she says. “What’s the verdict? Am I broken?”

At her question, I’m able to summon a bit of my professionalism. She’s here for answers, not to have an unbound alpha pining over her. She wants to get her life back to normal, and right now I’m the only person who can help.

“The good news is that I don’t think you’re broken,” I start, trying to lighten the mood before I deliver the test results. I look up again and catch the hint of worry in her gaze, which makes my chest tight. “The less good news is that we didn’t find anything abnormal with our first set of tests.”

Her face falls, and my knee-jerk impulse is to step forward and place a hand on her shoulder. I want to comfort her, in whatever way I can, but I know that touching her in any capacity will ruin me. I won’t want to stop.

Fighting the urge, I stay rooted to the spot.

“That isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” I assure her. “It just means that the most common things we test for have been ruled out, so we’re one step closer to answers.”

She doesn’t look reassured, and the disappointment on her face twists my insides into knots.

“And if they all come back normal?” she asks, glaring at me. “If you run every test you can think of, and there’s not a diagnosis?”

The fear in her voice is clear. There’s no telling how many tests she’s already gone through if the last clinic wasn’t the only one she visited. I doubt it was; no one would fly here without seeking a second or third opinion first.

“Try not to worry,” I say, rubbing the back of my head to relieve some of the awkward tension building in me. Keeping my hands occupied abates the need to touch her, to comfort her, if only a little.

I definitely need to work out some of this frustration on my lunch break, and I don’t think squats are going to cut it.

Maybe some reverse lunges…

Or a ten-mile run…

“We’ll get it figured out, alright?” I try to smile.

She nods and shifts, her feet swinging off the edge of the exam table. She’s small and petite, with the typical build of most omegas. Cute. Adorable, even. I bet she’s the perfect size to be a little spoon.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Skylar.

“I trust you,” she says finally, but her tone isn’t very convincing.