Page 24 of Examining the Bond

By the time the climax passes, I’m a trembling mess.

Grabbing the wash rag I’ve yet to use, I scrub my body with another layer of body wash to clean up, praying the scent sticks to my skin through the night. Then, I cut off the water and grab a towel, wrapping it around me before heading back to the bedroom.

There, I collapse onto the makeshift nest I arranged earlier, reveling in the tiny aftershocks of my orgasm.

A content sigh escapes me as I close my eyes, and my mind spins. Now that I’ve temporarily sated my desire, my thoughts drift to what awaits me tomorrow at the clinic. My omega traits, my weird rut last month, my unusual perfume that doesn’t seem to behave like a regular scent; there’s a chance I’ll find out what all of it means tomorrow, but the results don’t seem to matter as much as they did before.

Not when there’s an alpha waiting who could satisfy me, no matter what they discover.

If only I could make a move.

When I see her again, I’ll do something to make sure she notices me. Depending on the test results, tomorrow might be my last opportunity to make any kind of impression. It might be the last time I ever see her.

I can’t miss my shot.

No matter what.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

RIANN

When I wake the next morning, the faint scent of body wash still lingers, clinging to my skin and sticking to the blankets. Stomach fluttering, I jump out of bed to brush my teeth and get dressed, even though I still have a few hours before my appointment.

I order pancakes with fresh fruit via room service and dig through the clothes I brought with me, contemplating what to wear. I want something sexy, which isn’t the easiest thing to accomplish when it’s freezing outside. More material is preferable to shield me from the icy bite of the wind, but it also needs to screamfuck me.

I pull on a tank top and a pair of thigh-high black tights, flip-flopping between options before finally settling on a short black skirt and a slouchy cream-colored sweater. I finish the outfit with my favorite black ankle boots and work a little mousse intomy hair to give it some volume. My usual braid isn’t going to cut it today.

Breakfast arrives, and I scarf it down without even tasting it, too consumed by thoughts of my impending appointment.

And the fact that I get to see Dr. Morales again.

Butterflies erupt in my stomach, and a smile curls my lips. This is my chance, and I won’t screw it up this time.

I won’t.

I can’t.

Makeup is last. I go a little more dramatic than normal, smoking out the black liner around my eyes and painting my lips with a cherry red lip stain. I give my appearance a final approving glance in the mirror before hurrying for the door.

As soon as I'm outside, a gust of icy wind slams into me, making my teeth chatter. The skirt and tights weren't the best decision, but I know it'll only be a few minutes of torture to possibly impress Dr. Morales.

I’ll gladly freeze my tits off if it gets her attention.

The warm air of the clinic lobby is a welcome relief, the heat licking at my skin and returning some of the feeling. My nose is frozen, my cheeks ice cold as I approach the receptionist’s desk.

“I’m here for my appointment,” I say, my eyes quickly drifting away from the disgruntled looking secretary to the nearby hallways. My heart rate is already picking up at the thought of seeing a flash of black hair or a white lab coat. “I’m a bit early.”

“Name?” Her tone is flat and disinterested.

“Riann Saunders.”

A few clicks of her mouse, and she jerks her head to the small sitting area in the lobby.

“You’re checked in. You can wait over there for the nurse.”

I can’t explain the deflating sensation in my chest—it’s not like Ireallyexpected Dr. Morales to appear immediately anddrag me down the hall to use me as her own personal science experiment—but I force a smile and make my way over to the stuffed chair in the corner.

The minutes drag by excruciatingly slow, and the curious texts I receive from Ziel aren’t helping with my patience.