I force a breath through my nose and crouch beside the table, keeping my movements clinical as I assess his ankle. But I feel it anyway: the way his scent nudges at my instincts, the way it spikes faintly when I touch his skin.
His eyes are on me the whole time, waiting for a reaction.
Huntingfor one.
“Inflamed,” I mutter. “Stable, though.”
He hums. “Shame. I was hoping you’d need to keep me after hours. Maybe ice me down personally.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
“And yet,” he says, voice lower now,cockier, “you’re still touching me.”
I shoot him a look. “Because it’s myjob.”
“Still. Not the worst thing in the world—getting your hands on me.” He shrugs, unconcerned. “If you ever get tired of being the only omega in a building full of alphas playing nice…”
I stand abruptly, grabbing the tape and wrapping his ankle with practiced speed.
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
His grin is slow, unapologetic. “Touch a nerve?”
The worst part is—itdoestouch a nerve. Not because of him necessarily, but because my body’s still recovering.
Because Iamthe only Omega in a building full of Alphas, and because no matter how stable IthinkI am… Dylansmellsgood. Helooksgood. He’s dangerous, and flirty, andavailable, and my traitor instincts stir in my chest—shameful and unwanted.
“You’re done,” I mutter, stripping the tape and standing back.
He hops off the table and pauses just before the door.
“You know,” he says casually, looking me over like he’s considering licking his lips, “you’d lookrealpretty with my mark.”
My heart skips. My thighs clench.
He knowsexactlywhat he’s doing.
I narrow my eyes. “Goodnight, Dylan.”
He glances at my throat again, then meets my gaze with one last cocky, knowing smirk.
“See you around, Emery.”
The door clicks shut behind him.
And thesecondit does, the bondyanks.
Beau’s presence crashes through me like a fucking freight train; sharp and possessive, the sensation curling around my ribs. Heat rolls low in my gut, blooming out into every inch of my skin, and I have to grip the edge of the counter to steady myself.
Oh.
Hefeltthat.
Not Dylan, but the way my body reacted to him. The flicker of awareness, the ripple of instinct that saidalpha, male, attention.
The pull comes again, stronger this time. It’s directional and insistent.
Locker room.
