I was about three milliseconds away from holding my breath as I waited for an answer when the question, “Yeah, can it?” sounded from behind me.
I turned to find Chester sauntering up to the booth.
Like they had the other time I’d met the asshole, my hands twitched with the need to ball into fists so I could flatten him.
“That’s precisely what we’re aiming for,” Dr. Fletcher asked, his manner suddenly tighter.
The older couple took a step back, then moved on to the next booth. Even they sensed the crackling tension and hatred between me and Chester.
“I don’t think an omega who was forced to be severed would have any interest at all in bonding with the same alpha again,” I told Chester, standing taller.
“It makes sense that rebonding with that same alpha would make him happier, more complete,” Chester said, using his words as a threat.
Dr. Fletcher hummed slightly as he glanced between the two of us.
“The research we’ve done and the procedure that we’ve been developing is concerned primarily with healing the broken part of the omega,” he said, his words guarded. “The potential to form another bond is part of what we’re aiming for, but my team’s primary concern is with healing and helping the omega’s brain chemistry to regulate and balance again. What he or she does with their life after that should be their decision alone.”
“But omegas are better when they’re in a relationship with an alpha,” Chester said.
I hated the implication of his words.
“Omegas are their own people,” Dr. Fletcher said, making me like him even more. “And a large portion of omegas live perfectlyhappy, productive lives without ever bonding, even within a marriage.”
Part of me wanted to scoff at that. My parents had been married for over thirty years and they’d never bonded. But I wouldn’t have called them happy at all. At least they were proof that omegas didn’t have to bond with an alpha to be fully functioning members of society. My mom was one of the sharpest and most competent omegas I knew. She just wasn’t very emotional or affectionate.
“How far along are you with your research?” Chester asked, crossing his arms and asking the question like he was challenging Dr. Fletcher to a fight.
“Quite far along, actually,” Dr. Fletcher responded with scientific grace, not taking the argument bait. He looked at me as he went on with, “We should be at a point where we can begin trials soon. We will be putting out a call for omegas who would like to participate, if your friend might be interested.”
“He’d love?—”
“I doubt he would be,” Chester cut me off. “Besides, he made his choice, he should stick to it.”
“His choice was made for him,” I said, peeking at Dr. Fletcher and trying not to punch Chester. “I’m sure a lot of omegas end up in that same position.”
“It’s more common than you might think,” Dr. Fletcher said.
“What about alphas?” Chester asked, chin tilted up. “Shouldn’t you put your research efforts into making alphas whole and being able to bond again first?”
Seriously, I was going to kneecap the guy at any second.
“Well, the severing procedures that exist right now tend to be massively, disproportionately in favor of preserving the alphas’ abilities as much as possible,” Dr. Fletcher said. “I’m sure we’ll work on that in the future, but right now, the greater needlies with the omegas who have undergone the barbaric severing procedure.”
I definitely liked Dr. Fletcher.
“Who’s funding this research?” Chester demanded. “Sounds like I need to have a talk with them.”
“All of Bangers & Mash Labs’ funding comes from private donors who wish to remain anonymous,” Dr. Fletcher said.
“What are you doing?” I growled at the man. “This research could help people. It could help Quincy.”
“And why do you care about my omega?”
I nearly exploded.
“He’s not your omega anymore,” I said, turning to face him with so much fury that he backed up a few steps. “You forced him to undergo the severing procedure. He begged you not to.”
“That’s a lie,” Chester insisted, breaking into a sweat. “Did he tell you that?”
