Page 13 of Examining the Bond

Is she saying it for my benefit? Or trying to make herself believe it? Normally, I’d think it was the latter, but a waft of marshmallow makes my knees weak and my head spin.

I’ve got to get out of this roomnow, before I do something I’ll regret.

“What I’d like to try next is a low-dose pheromone injection,” I say, eager to escape the room that’s growing smaller by the second. Rather than moving to sit at the desk, which is closer to the exam table, I stand next to the door and write notes in Riann’s chart. “You’ll come in tomorrow morning and we’ll check your levels to see how you respond to them. Then, we’ll go from there. Sound good?”

“Umm… yeah. Sounds good,” she says quietly. She opens her mouth like she wants to say something else, but quickly closes it.

Before I’m tempted to ask what’s on her mind, I flash another smile and take a backward step toward the door, fumbling to reach for the handle behind me.

“Great. I’ll send the nurse back in, and she’ll get that for you.”

Then, I fly out of the room and hurry toward my office, nearly barreling over a nurse in the process.

CHAPTER SIX

RIANN

Anxiety bubbles beneath my skin at the thought of more needles, but the sweet beta nurse who drew my blood earlier dips back into the room with a smile that almost helps soothe my nerves. Despite knowing how unlikely it was, part of me hoped Dr. Morales would give me the shot herself.

Disappointment weighs on me, but I try to keep my hopes up. Maybe I’ll get a chance to see her on my way out.

If not, there’s always tomorrow…

“...you might feel a few slight side effects,” the nurse says as she sets up her things, but I’m barely listening. My thoughts are completely consumed by the alpha doctor who ran out of the room moments ago. “Left or right arm?”

She stops in front of me, a syringe in one hand and an alcohol wipe in the other.

“Umm…” I hesitate, not sure that it matters either way. Just the thought of the needle near me makes my stomach sour. “Left.”

At least if it’s in my arm, I don’t have to stand up. If I stand up and pass out, I’m more likely to do damage.

I wince as she stabs the syringe into my arm, pumping a pink liquid into me, my heart beating in my throat. In a blink, she’s finished and slapping a Band-Aid over the puncture point.

“All done.” She smiles widely. “If you’ll come with me, you can check out at the front desk, and they’ll give you paperwork to take to the hotel if you’re staying.”

I mumble a thanks, grabbing the duffle bag full of my belongings off the chair in the corner. As I follow the nurse down the hall toward the front lobby, I whip my head this way and that, searching for any glimpse of Dr. Morales’ dark hair or muscular frame.

The secretary looks much less kind than the nurse, her face scrunched up as her fingers clack away at her keyboard.

“Miss Saunders is checking out, Gwin,” the beta nurse chirps. “And she’ll need the grant paperwork for the hotel.”

Gwin nods and pauses to scratch near the bun on her head with a pencil. Then, she opens a drawer and pulls out a stack of papers.

The nurse offers me a wave before bobbing away down the hall, leaving me alone with the secretary.

“You’ll give these to the people at the front desk,” Gwin says, shoving two papers at me that are pre-signed and stamped with official seals. I have no idea what they mean, and I don’t ask. “The hotel is out the front doors and to the left. Big gray building, can’t miss it.”

Readjusting the duffle bag strap on my shoulder, I take the papers.

“And if you can sign right here,” she pushes a clipboard with more official documents at me, “you’ll be good to go.”

I grab a pen out of a flower pot on the desk and scribble my name, hardly legible, on the bottom line.

Looking up, I scan the lobby for any sign of Dr. Morales, but she’s still nowhere to be found. As I turn and head for the door, I throw a few more glances over my shoulder, staring as far down the connecting hallways as I can manage, to no avail.

I step outside with a sigh and turn to the left as instructed.

The hotel has to be one of the blandest, mediocre places to stay in Boston, but at least it’s free. I walk through the front doors and am immediately met by the most underwhelming lobby I’ve ever seen. There’s a small sectional sofa to the left with a single ocean painting above it. To the right is the reception desk, which is currently vacant. Straight ahead is an elevator.