Page 3 of Examining the Bond

“We can put you in contact with the clinic, and you can see what their availability is,” he says, his voice entirely devoid of emotion.

Of course. Fuck me for thinking he could possibly empathize.

“Right.” I hop off the exam table and grab my black cross-body, throwing the strap over my head in a swift motion. I just want to get the hell out of this suffocating room, so I can breathe again. “Thanks… I guess.”

What else is there to say?

“I know it isn’t the outcome you wanted, Miss Saunders, but don’t worry. They’ll be able to get everything sorted in Boston,” he says, but I’m barely listening. I'm storming out the door before he can say goodbye.

When I check out at the receptionist desk, they hand me a stack of papers, along with pamphlets for the specialty clinic, which I hastily shove into my bag. I pull a green beanie out of the pocket of my sweater and pull it on before shoving the front door open and stepping out into the chilly wind.

“Christ on a bike,” I hiss, already shivering as I hurry down the sidewalk toward the bus station.

I should have worn more layers, or at least thicker pants, but I didn’t expect it to drop ten degrees since this morning. Next time, I’ll be sure to check the weather.Twice.

By the time I arrive at the station, I can barely feel my nose.

Everyone on campus has been talking about potential snow this weekend, which I can’t say I’m upset about. A day or two of flurries is a rare sight here in Georgia, and it would be just the thing to distract me from the clusterfuck that is currently my life.

Maybe it would be better to wait until the summer to set up an appointment…

That way, I don’t have to miss classes, and I’ll at least get to finish the semester. Assuming the academy doesn’t kick me out first.

Then again, the suspense of not knowing what’s wrong might kill me before then. I want—no,need—to know why I am the way I am.

To knowwhatI am.

Because if I'm not an omega, then what the hell am I?

CHAPTER TWO

RIANN

I pop in my earbuds and zone out on the bus ride back to the Woodside Omega Academy, ignoring the curious glances I get from the other passengers. My sticky-sweet marshmallow scent hangs in the air around me, just enough to pique their interest but not enough to convey my designation… whatever that is. It’s more like a heavy spritz of body spray than an omega’s perfume, but obviously more than the whisper trace of a beta’s scent.

They’re probably wondering what the hell I am.

Guess they can all join the club…

I pull my beanie lower over my ears and slide down in the seat, nestling into the comfort of my sweater. Unless it’s required for school functions, I live in comfortable clothes; it’s just another thing I have in common with omegas, but apparently that doesn’t mean a damn thing.

It would probably make sense to doll myself up when I go out, on the off-chance that I run into an unbonded pack, but I guess that doesn’t matter now either. I swallow down the lump forming in my throat.

The bus drops me off a block away from the academy just after dark, and I rush back, fighting against the cold gusts of wind slamming into me. As soon as I’m on campus, the tension in my muscles dissipates as a sense of security sets in. Wandering the city as an omega is dangerous, but here, within the protective gates of the school, I know I’m safe.

The trip to the heat clinic, along with all the unsavory news I received, takes a back seat as I hurry across the square to Epsilon Hall. The only thing I can think about is getting back to my nest and burrowing into the mountain of blankets and throw pillows waiting for me there. Everything else—the test results, the specialty clinic, the trip to Boston—can wait.

By the time I make it to my dorm building, I’m nearly frozen solid. My teeth chatter as I punch in the security code, and I take the stairs two at a time to the second floor. Fumbling my key into the doorknob, I burst through it with a wave of relief into the familiarity and comfort of my nest.

Fairy lights droop lazily from the ceiling over a plush pink and white mountain in the corner. Somewhere beneath all the fabric and pillows is an actual bed, but it’s hard to tell. A white desk with a short vanity mirror sits across from the door, and glossy bookshelves line the wall to the right, topped with books and trinkets—what’s left of my belongings that weren’t sold off after my parents’ accident.

The rest of the room is occupied by a bedside table, a mini fridge, and a fat beanbag chair, with a faux-fur rug covering the majority of the boring tile floor.

Home sweet home.

I kick off my shoes by the door and drop my bag next to them, shuffling across the room to dive into the mountain of blankets on my bed. Taking a deep breath of the familiar scent surrounding me, I relax for the first time since I set out on my adventure this morning. It may be fleeting, but the wave of comfort that washes over me is undeniable.

This is where I belong, tucked into a nest that’s drowned in my sweet scent. Guarded from the outside world and the problems that come with it… like my designation being in question and possibly getting kicked out of the academy. None of that exists in here.