Page 51 of Examining the Bond

My insides twist in preparation, bracing myself for whatever bad news she’s about to break to me. No wonder she wanted me to sit down.

“We took your sequenced DNA and checked them for alpha and omega genetic markers,” she explains, holding my gaze. It’s impressive how she can slip her professional mask back on when she needs to. “We didn’t find them, which was what we expected, but we did find something else.”

Her words are like a punch to the gut, and my shock gives way to more nerves.

“Something bad?”

“No.” She shakes her head and runs her long fingers through her hair. “Just different. I reached out to see if any researchers abroad had seen what I found. One of them had.”

My breath hitches, every muscle in my body tightening.

She found someone else like me?

I can hardly stand the anticipation; energy bounces through me, making me restless.

“What did they say?” I ask, unable to hold in my questions any longer. “Can you fix me?”

When she doesn’t reassure me immediately, my stomach sours. She said it wouldn’t be what I wanted to hear, which is that something simple like pills or a shot could sort me out.

Obviously, that isn’t going to work.

“It’s not that simple,” she says. “There’s nothing wrong with you, so there’s nothing for me to fix, Riann. I’d like you to read this letter from the research center in Rio de Janeiro. It’ll explain everything, and I can answer any questions you have after that.”

My chest constricts as she pulls a piece of paper out of the folder and hands it over. I take it with trembling fingers, giving her one final apprehensive look before glancing down at the page.

Dear Dr. Morales,

The symptoms you described are reflective of an identical case we saw about a year ago. The patient presented with alpha and omega characteristics, but DNA testing showed an absence of both genetic markers. We were unable to run any additional tests before the subject received a claiming bite, resulting in a designation change.

In this instance, the patient bonded with an omega. Whereas previously the patient presented undetermined, the genetic testing post-bond showed the presence of the alpha gene.

To our knowledge, there have been no other recorded cases of this condition, which we have named the delta designation. Based on our research, we confidently believe that a delta who bonds with an alpha would become an omega. If you’d like to test this theory by introducing alpha genetic material to that of the patient, we would be most intrigued to hear about the results.

Kind Regards,

Miguel Almeida, Genet. Méd.

I read the letter again, then a third time for good measure. The words sink in slowly, like molasses in winter, but my eyes catch on the same word every time.

Delta.

I can barely breathe as the word rattles around my brain. My pulse spikes, along with the temperature in the room, and it gets harder to force air into my lungs.

“Riann.” Skylar says my name, but I can barely hear her over the pulse pounding in my ears. I drag my eyes away from the letter, finding hers as I try to keep my nerves under control. “Are you okay?”

I nod my head numbly, even though I’m growing less okay by the second. “There are only three designations… how can I be something different?” The question sounds distant to my own ears.

“Because there aren’t only three. Not anymore.” Skylar scoots closer in her stool, but still leaves a visible gap between us. “That’s the wonderful thing about biology. We’re always growing, evolving, but normally it happens over such a long stretch of time that we don’t see the little changes. You’re proof of it.” She looks up at me, her dark eyes gleaming. “You’re possibly the only person in the world right now who can choose their designation.”

“No. No. I’m an omega.” I shake my head adamantly, refusing to accept this new information. I know she’d never lie to me, especially because she’s a doctor doing her job, but this is too much for me to process. Not only am I one oftwodocumentedpeople in the world with this condition, but I can choose what I want to be? No. It’s too much. “I perfumed. I had a heat. That’s what I am. An omega.” The words come out sharp like knives, but I can’t help it.

Iknowwhat I am.

“I—” I suck in a breath as my thoughts careen out of control. Is that why she’s keeping her distance and not acting like herself? Because I’m not an omega?

From the time we’re young, it’s drilled into us that alphas and omegas are made for each other. Betas have relationships too, but they can’t endure claiming bites.

Skylar is one-hundred percent alpha; there’s no doubt about that. Maybe she wants the perfect omega and not whatever the hell I am… which seems to be neatly summarised in black and white on the page in front of me.