Back in the exam room, I watch helplessly as Mercer prescribes an antihistamine for Emma’s rash and sends them on their way with instructions to “worry less.” As soon as they leave, I duck into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, trying to calm the fury bubbling in my chest.
This is temporary, I remind myself. Just get through the next few weeks. Get the certification. Move on from working under Mercer’s thumb.
But the image of Emma’s trusting eyes haunts me as I dry my hands and return to the nurses’ station.
Dr. Mercer is holding court with the staff, regaling them with stories from his recent medical conference. I slide into a chair and pretend to be absorbed in paperwork.
“...and then the speaker had the audacity to suggest we should have more omega physicians!” Mercer laughs, shaking his head. “Can you imagine? An omega in emergency medicine? They’d be useless half the time, going into heat or getting distracted by every alpha who walks through the door.”
Several staff members chuckle uncomfortably. I keep my eyes fixed on my computer screen, my fingers frozen over the keyboard.
“No offense to omegas, of course,” Mercer continues magnanimously. “They’re wonderful in pediatrics, excellent with children. But emergency medicine requires a certain... stability of temperament.”
“Omegas are just as capable of controlling their biological responses as everyone else,” I hear myself say, the words escaping before I can stop them.
The room goes quiet. Mercer turns to me, eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Well, well. An omega advocate, are we?” His tone is light, but his eyes are calculating. “Do you have many omega friends, Dr. Chang?”
“A few,” I say carefully. “At least one in my medical school class.”
“Hmm. I suppose times do change somewhat. I would be fine with my wife seeing an omega obstetrician to manage her pregnancy. That makes a certain sort of sense.” He studies me for a moment. “But just think of a situation closer to home, Dr. Chang. An omega would never have managed that cave rescue the other day. Too much pressure, too many competing scents from all those alpha EMS workers distracting them. They’d have worse than useless.”
I force a tight smile, my stomach churning. If he only knew that an omega had performed that emergency thoracentesis without even noticing the pheromones of the alphas who couldn’t even fit inside the cave to help.
I want him to yell that the patient would have died without a trained omega on site, but bite my tongue hard until the urge fades.
“Speaking of that rescue,” Mercer continues, “I’ve been meaning to discuss your technique. While effective, there were several procedural?—“
“Excuse me, Dr. Mercer.”
Noah’s voice cuts through the conversation like a lifeline. I look up to see him standing in the doorway, his expression professionally neutral but his eyes burning with something that makes my pulse quicken.
“Dr. Klinkhart,” Mercer says, surprised. “I thought you were out until tomorrow.”
“Decided to drive back today instead of spending another night. Found myself eager to get home,” Noah replies smoothly. “May I borrow Dr. Chang? I have some literature review to do and could use another set of eyes.”
Mercer waves a dismissive hand. “By all means. She still has a lot to learn.”
I gather my things quickly, before Mercer can change his mind, and follow Noah down the hallway. He doesn’t speak until we reach the small clinic library, ushering me inside and closing the door behind us.
“Are you okay?” he asks immediately, his professional mask dropping away.
“Fine,” I say automatically, then sigh at his skeptical look. “No, not really. Working with Mercer is…a challenge.”
“I could feel your distress through the bond,” Noah says, moving closer. “It woke me up in my hotel room last night.”
I blink in surprise. “You felt that all the way from Fairbanks?”
“Distance doesn’t seem to matter much.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing over my lower lip. “So, I came back early.”
“For me?” The question slips out, vulnerable and uncertain.
“For you,” he confirms, his voice dropping to that low register that makes my omega instincts sit up and beg.“Technically, I’m not your supervisor anymore, so hitting on you at work is only sexual harassment if it’s unwanted.”
Heat floods my body, pooling low in my abdomen.
“It’s very much wanted,” I breathe.
