"You're an Omega." The timber of his voice gave me slight pause, it was deep and delicious, rattling my very bones.
"I'm your doctor. Sit."
Something flickered in his eyes surprise, maybe. Finally he moved into the room, every step deliberate, predatory. He didn’t sit and his eyes never left my own, a smirk rolling onto his full lips.
"Taking Dr. Mallory’s place, I see…"
I let his words hang in the air, and I wondered if he was trying to bait me for a reaction.
Instead, I ignored it. “The table, please."
Knox circled me instead, and I forced myself to stay still, to keep preparing my blood pressure cuff like a two-hundred-and-twenty-pound Alpha wasn't stalking around me like I was prey.
"He was scared of me," Knox said, stopping directly behind me. "Shook every time I came in. Pathetic for a Beta."
"I'm not Dr. Mallory." I turned to face him, meeting those dark eyes directly. "And I need to take your vitals, so unless you want to explain to Coach Sullivan why you're not cleared to play, you'll sit down and we can get started."
The examination room went dead silent. The air grew thick with his scent, testosterone and Alpha pheromones cranking up like he was preparing for a fight. Or something else. My body responded against my will, heat pooling low in my belly despite the suppressants.
Then he sat, not uttering another word.
The examination table creaked under his weight, but his eyes never left mine. There was something almost amused in them now, like I'd passed some kind of test.
"Good," I said, moving closer with my stethoscope. "I'm going to listen to your heart."
"Bet you'll hear some interesting things," he murmured, voice dropping an octave.
I ignored the innuendo and placed the stethoscope on his chest. His heart was racing, which was odd for an athlete of his caliber. Their resting rates were usually in the basement.
"Deep breath."
He complied, but when he exhaled, his scent intensified. Pine and smoke and something else something that spoke directly to the Omega part of my brain I kept locked away. My hand trembled slightly.
"You smell wrong," he said suddenly.
I pulled back. "Excuse me?"
"Suppressants." He practically spat the word. "Can smell them on you. Under them, though..."
His hand shot out, catching my wrist. Not hard, but firm enough that I couldn't pull away without a struggle. His thumb found my pulse point, and I knew he could feel how fast my heart was racing.
"Under them you smell like"
"Mr. Maddox." I kept my voice steady even as his touch sent electricity up my arm. "Release me. Now."
"Or what, Doc?" He stood, using his grip on my wrist to back me against the wall. Not aggressively, but with the kind of inevitable force that made my knees weak. "You'll report me? Get me benched? Go ahead. But first, tell me why an Omega drowning in suppressants took a job dealing with me."
This close, I could see flecks of amber in his dark eyes. Could feel the heat radiating off his body. Could smell him so clearly it made my mouth water and my thighs clench.
"Because I'm good at my job," I said. "And you're going to let me do it."
"Am I?"
His free hand came up, bracing against the wall beside my head. I was trapped between drywall and two-hundred-plus pounds of Alpha muscle, and my body was having all sorts of inappropriate reactions to it.
"Yes," I said, tilting my chin up. "You are. Because despite what everyone says about you, you're not actually stupid. You know you need medical clearance to play. You know Coach Sullivan is already pissed about whatever you did to Dr. Mallory. And you know that if you don't back up right now, I'll have you benched for the rest of the season."
His eyes narrowed. "You threatening me, little Omega?"
