“Keep it together, Chang,” I mutter. “Professional. Competent. Beta. Beta. Beta!”
My phone buzzes again. My mother. Always wanting updates, always worrying that I’ll reveal myself.
I take a deep breath, pushing down the warmth, the awareness, the omega part of me that noticed how Grayson’s eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when I mentioned climbing.
I can’t afford to make a fool of myself. Not when my entire future depends on maintaining the charade.
No matter how comfortable I might have felt with Grayson and Kai, providing medical treatment is the closest to any local alphas I can allow myself to get.
TEN
NOAH
I’ve been shufflingthe same stack of paperwork for twenty minutes. Insurance forms, referrals, prescription renewals—the mundane administrative bullshit that never seems to end. My pen hovers over a signature line as I steal another glance through my office doorway.
Dr. Chang—Holly, my mind corrects in a seductive whisper—stands at the nurses’ station, her dark hair falling forward as she reviews a chart. Her movements are precise, economical. No wasted motion. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear with the back of her wrist, keeping her hands clean. The slight furrow between her brows when she concentrates.
Focus, Klinkhart.
I force my attention back to the form, scrawling my signature with more force than necessary. This is getting ridiculous. She’s a colleague. A temporary one at that. And there’s something off about her that I can’t quite place—something that makes my instincts prickle whenever she’s nearby.
Maybe it’s how she flinches when patients get too close. Or how she always positions herself near the door in any room. Or the way her barely-there scent seems to shift. One momentclinical and antiseptic, the next something warmer, more interesting, before snapping back to that sterile beta profile.
I’ve worked with plenty of betas. None of them have ever smelled like much of anything at all to me.
I shake my head, disgusted with myself. Analyzing a colleague’s scent? What kind of creep am I becoming? This mountain is getting to me. Too many memories. Too much of the past pressing in from all sides.
The chair scrapes against the floor as I stand and gather the completed paperwork. Time to drop these at reception and check the weather report. We got word of a storm in the forecast, but not how bad it might be. The barometric pressure has been dropping all morning, making my old climbing injury ache. Storm’s coming.
Holly glances up as I approach the desk, her expression curious but guarded. Always guarded. Like she’s waiting for me to find fault with her work.
“Dr. Klinkhart,” she says, giving me a hesitant glance before looking away. “I was wondering if I could ask you something.”
“Go ahead.” I deposit the stack of papers in Greta’s inbox, careful not to let our hands brush.
“Does the clinic have an in-house pharmacy? For non-emergency prescriptions, I mean.”
An odd question. I study her face, noting the slight tension around her eyes. “We keep a small supply medications on-site, aside from what’s in the crash carts. Antibiotics, painkillers, basic cardiac meds. For everything else, patients go to the town pharmacy.”
“Right. Of course.” She nods quickly. Too quickly.
“Why do you ask?” I lean against the counter, crossing my arms. “Need something filled?”
“Just curious about the protocols here.” Her eyes slide away from me, never focusing for more than a split second. “It’s different from my previous rotation.”
Lie. I don’t know how I know, but I do. The way her pulse jumps at her throat. The slight shift in her stance. Whatever she needs from a pharmacy, she doesn’t want to tell me about it.
“The town pharmacy can handle most prescriptions,” I say, deciding not to press. “Anything specialized gets sent in from Fairbanks.”
“Good to know.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
I turn to the computer, pulling up the weather service website. The satellite imagery loads, and I mutter a curse under my breath. The storm system that was supposed to track north of us has shifted. Dramatically. I can’t help a sigh of annoyance.
“Everything okay?” Holly asks, leaning slightly to see the screen.
“Not really. This storm was supposed to miss us. Now we’re looking at one of the heaviest snowfalls of the season so far. Probably need to close the clinic, operate on an emergency-only basis until it passes.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “How bad of a storm are we talking about?”
