Sadly, I spent the day without any of my besties by my side. I seriously hate the Friday timetable for that very reason. Instead, I have to hang out with Bella and her doting fans talking about absolute bullshit for the entire day which makes me as bitchy as Raney was earlier.
To make the entire day worse, by the time I’ve finished a HIIT and Pilates session I think Raney might have been right about me having a spike this morning. My skin feels all itchy like ants are walking over it, and despite the scent blocker lotion I used after my second shower for the day all I can smell is my ownsweetness which kind of means it’s about ten times worse for any Alphas around.
Swallowing a couple of suppressor tabs, I change from a short dress into a pair of cobalt blue pants, adding a high-necked shirt to go with it, hoping the material around my neck will somehow stop my scent tainting the air.
“Sucks to be you,” I mutter at my own reflection, pissed off at my biology, limiting my fashion choices yet again but still admiring what I’m wearing. Twisting around to triple check the knicker line isn’t too visible through my pants since I have to also change to thick panties too. Which I hate, they’re gross and make me feel completely unfeminine.
But the fact is, it would be just my luck, some stuck up Alpha on the hospital board gets a whiff of my scent and starts wooing me to pack or some bullshit. I like how my future looks, full of clandestine hook-ups with Alpha bikies.
Thankfully my parents are endlessly supportive, and patient when it comes to me packing although I suspect I’ll be pushing our bonds when they meet King considering he’s not that much younger than they are but that’s a future problem. Now the problem is getting to the hospital in under an hour.
I make it to the event with ten minutes to spare. Big Tom accompanies me in and makes a quick sweep of the room where we’re taking the photos before he takes a stand at the doors, leaving me talking with the Board while we wait for the doctors involved in the new initiative.
I love that my parents are at the stage in their lives where they can do what they want. In the social circles they keep, there’s always been an air of entitlement but Pack Cameron keeps it real. They rally around those in need rather than those who are the best speakers or the most charismatic which is pretty evident in their latest funding placement, St. Gabriel’s.
St. Gabriel’s is a hospital that should have been knocked down and rebuilt years ago, except it’s one of the busiest hospitals around. Their ER department is huge and almost always at capacity but today we’re here to celebrate the latest round of residents about to finish, while also awarding one of them with my dad’s Dean Cameron Prize.
Dean wanted to set this up in recognition for an underprivileged doctor starting their career. It’s a cash prize, and unlike a lot of the other scholarships and prizes on offer within medicine it’s not related to study, more it’s to help the recipient stay within the public health system as opposed to being lured into private consulting. The money is enough to offset their wages for a year, and it comes without the strings of a Board approving how you spend it.
The resident getting the award is late, supposedly he got caught up in an emergency before needing to see another patient quickly but he’s on the way. A nurse called to apologise and to tell us he would be with us within minutes.
“Excuse me.” I catch the attention of one of the helpers, my temperature is up and I need to get myself under control, “Where’s the bathroom?”
“I’ll show you the way, it’s a bit of a maze,” she says, and we walk away from the group.
I think she was exaggerating how hard it is to find the toilet or maybe she’s used to having to work with idiots who get lost, but I’m used to the hallways and corridors at Unity and I’ve always had a stellar sense of direction. After a few hurried reassurances she reluctantly leaves me to find my own way back.
My head is spinning in slow circles because of taking the suppressors without eating, but the dizziness is also another sign I’m having a spike. Running cold water over my wrists is a nifty trick my mom taught me. It’s a very temporary measure but it should give me some time.
Rushing out of the bathroom like I’ve got a ticking time bomb—I mean it’s not entirely wrong—I make a few steps before my eardrums are shattered by a piercing alarm. The wailing siren clears the corridor as everyone scatters responding to the alarm. I heard a sample of the noise they use for ‘active situations’ when I signed in as a visitor but I never expected to actually hear it in real time.
It’s almost instinctual the way I become a smaller version of myself, trying to hide from the situation while focussing on getting to a safe place. I push on the door to the area where the Board is but it doesn’t budge, the door is locked already and the small glass window is covered.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” I whisper under my breath when I hear footsteps coming my way, having me try all the doorknobs in the hallway. And it seems St. Gabriel’s staff are absolute professionals at locking the place down, no doors open. I don’t know if I’m imagining things, but a door slams from somewhere in the distance and all of a sudden when my rising panic breaks free, I get plucked off my feet.
Chapter
Sixteen
TYSON
The active threat siren pierces through the fog of exhaustion that’s been a constant companion for the past twelve months. Residency is no joke, nor is lack of government funding; St. Gabriel’s is understaffed and overrun with patients. But I wouldn’t trade my chosen career for anything else.
Standard Emergency Protocol demands I go back to my tiny office/bedsit and activate the electronic lock system to wait for security. The plan goes right out the window the instant I push the door open, and then I’m like a rabid wolf mid hunt.
I’m completely consumed and running on instinct triggered by a whisper of mouth-watering bubble-gum sweetness. If I wasn’t medically trained, I’d be wondering what the fuck was going on to make me so mindlessly obsessed. Since I am medically trained and well aware of the signs, I’m an Alpha scenting his Omega, I don’t fight the pull towards her. Instead, I chase the most natural connection known in our world.
The corridors are nearly dark since most of the rooms and offices are shut off as other hospital employees enact the required response to the risk. Triple checking the hallway is clear and I’m not walking into a bad situation. I watch herhovering at the junction. Pride for a person I’ve never met unfurls as I see her awareness to the situation and the way she’s assessing her next move. If she goes left, she’ll be somewhat safer than where she is. But the growing voice in my head confirms she’ll be the safest with me.
Each step I take closer makes her scent become more embedded in my senses; there’s overlapping notes of summer fruits and hints of saccharine spice. My Alpha also immediately detects a slight bitterness to her sweetness, confirming she’s using a chemical heat suppressor. But I also ascertain she’s not claimed or packed. It’s an insight that makes me smile.
She’s completely immersed in what’s happening ahead of her. I’d put money on her instincts screaming at her to run, but I can read the stubborn determination in the set of her shoulders that she will do it when she feels she’s safe. And not before. The slam of a door is a good indicator that trouble has found us. Without making a sound, I wrap her up in my arms and move off in the opposite direction.
Of course she shrieks. Her alarm feeds my growing instincts to care for her. My hand over her mouth keeps the noise of her alarm contained and I breathe into her ear whisper quiet. “Ssshhh. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
To further emphasise her as my main concern, my own unique scent does the talking and fills the small space we share. She goes pliant in my arms almost as soon as she takes another breath. Our designations continue rising and bouncing off each other, encouraging that instant connection only fated mates experience. Around us though the obvious sounds of someone gaining distance and coming closer is impossible to ignore and despite being in my arms and safe, she wavers.
A noiseless purr vibrates through the space our bodies are joined. Her panic starts to disappear, or it shifts is a better way to put it, as we race away from the danger coming toward us.Because she’s so close I can feel she’s full of adrenaline and her need to flee has me comforting her more.
