His eyes hold mine—steady, calm, not demanding.
"Can I scent you?"
The question makes my skin prickle. In this world, an alpha asking to scent an omega means something. It's intimate.
But Arden asked.
He didn't just do it.
"Yes," I say.
He stands slowly, giving me time to change my mind, then steps closer—not looming, not crowding. He tips his head and inhales once.
Then again, nearer my hairline.
He pulls back, faint frown forming.
"You're not on blockers."
"No."
"No masking oils?"
"No."
"Supplements?"
"No."
He nods, gaze thoughtful. "Okay."
I sit very still.
It's strange, being studied without feeling owned by the study.
Arden sits again and taps the clipboard lightly.
"Now we're going to test response. You know omegas respond automatically to certain alpha cues. Growl. Purr. Dominance pressure. It doesn't mean consent. It doesn't mean you want anything. It's physiology."
My cheeks warm in anticipation of humiliation.
Arden reads it and adds, "And if it doesn't happen, that's information too. Not a failure."
He waits. "Are you comfortable with that?"
"Yes," I say, because refusing feels like effort and I'm tired of effort.
Arden nods once. "Okay. I'm going to start with a growl."
He straightens in his chair. The growl that leaves him is controlled and low—not aggressive.
It's meant to call. To send me into an aroused state.
My body waits for the old reflex.
For slick to gather.
For that familiar drop in my stomach, the heat that used to happen when an alpha's voice went velvet and steel.
