Page 26 of Examining the Bond

The second my eyes land on her sitting on the exam table, an unexpected sense of calm washes over me, and I’m stunned. She’s here,finally, and everything feels right.

But as I close the door and open my mouth to say something, I notice what she’s wearing, and all my rational thoughts evaporate.

Holy shit.

I’m sucker-punched by a tornado of heat to the gut.

Black makeup lines her eyes, contrasting starkly against her porcelain skin, and her long lashes flutter at me. Her lips are stained red and look so delicious that I wouldn’t be surprised if they tasted like cherries.

And her outfit…fuck me.

Her beige sweater is loose and hangs off one shoulder, the strap of a black tank top showing underneath. A short black skirt is hiked high up her pale thighs, revealing a strip of delicious skin between it and the tops of her thigh-highs. My eyes linger on the exposed skin of her legs before trailing back up to her face.

For a moment, I’m too stunned to speak, drinking her in like she’s the last thing I’ll ever see. My alpha instincts are whirling into a frenzy while I fight to maintain a modicum of professionalism.

I’m losing ground quickly.

And she’s still staring at me…

“Good morning, Miss Saunders,” I say, clearing my throat as my professional mask slams back into place. “How are you feeling today?”

She shifts on the table, the paper liner beneath her crinkling, and her skirt inches higher up her thighs. I quickly shift my eyes away and set her chart down on the desk.

“I’m okay,” she admits, her voice carrying a confidence that wasn’t there yesterday. It snaps my attention into focus, and my gaze drags back up to lock with hers. “I forgot what kind of side effects the nurse said the injection yesterday could cause, but I’ve been feeling a bit… off.”

“Off?” I reach for the pen in my breast pocket—the same one she used yesterday that no longer smells like her—and move to sit on the rolling stool. “How so?”

Her cheeks bloom a rosy pink color, and she chews her bottom lip. “A bit feral to be honest.”

“Feral?” I swallow down the heat threatening to rip through me and jot down the notes. “Like out of control or…?”

“Yeah, a bit out of control. Like I need to crawl out of my skin.” Then she smirks. “Lots of urges,needs.”

I can feel the growl tickling in my chest, but I beat it down.

My decision to give her the low dose of omega pheromones should have calmed her down if she was an omega. A long shot, considering she lacks the omega compound in her blood, but it was a good place to start. In a typical case, omega pheromones introduced to an alpha’s system would spike their libido and possibly send them into a rut if it was a high dose.

However, I don’t believe for a second that she’s an alpha.

I’d be able to tell…

Fuck, it seems I’m still stuck. And at this rate—with my focus completely ruined by the woman sitting across from me—I’m not going to get anywhere on my own. I’ll have to consult with Dr. Song, maybe even call our other specialty clinic in Linthicum.

Start over from square one, I think, setting the clipboard aside. I stand and grab the stethoscope from around my neck.

“I’m going to check your vitals.” My mind is spinning, a whirlwind of unlikely scenarios and illicit fantasies I try to ignore. “Then we’ll draw some blood to see if there are any changes from the injection.”

She winces at the mention of blood, and I try to reassure her. “Not vials, just a finger prick.”

“You all just love sticking things in me, don’t you?” She giggles.

Before I can fight off the thought, I imagine sticking far more than needles in her. My fingers, my tongue. I want all of me inside her. I fight to regain my composure as Riann watches me, the sexiest little smirk lifting the corner of her mouth.

Not trusting myself to say anything that won’t get me dragged straight to HR—or the police station—I ignore her remark.

“Do you mind taking off your sweater?” I manage, my gaze flicking to her top as I put the ends of the stethoscope in my ears.

She reacts without a response, quickly tugging the sweater off over her head and letting it drop in a heap on the table beside her. The tank top she’s wearing is skin tight, with a low neckline that reveals a spill of cleavage.