He nods, but I can see the reluctance in his eyes. “What does that mean? Do you drug him up? Because if he needs an alpha…”
I give him a cool look. “It’s a fever, not a heat. We just need to get his temperature down, stabilize his hormones, and then talk to him about his management plan.”
“And then do I take him home? Because I’ll need to call Ark and tell him what’s going on.”
I have him shoved up against the wall before I realize I’ve moved. His cut feels disturbingly familiar under my hands, but his nostrils flare, sucking in my scent, and I catch a hint of alpha arousal.Jesus Christ...“You don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, you hear me? As far as the club is concerned, it’s just a stomach flu. You give Wings a chance to understand what’s happened to him before you bring the fucking Flyers down on his head.”
“Abbie?”
I whip my head around, but it’s Goldie, the security guy. Despite his size, he somehow manages to move like his shoes are greased. Quick and silent, and thankfully always there when I need him. But now he’s looking between me and the Flyer like he’s not sure who he needs to restrain.
“I’m okay,” I tell him, stepping back and rubbing my palms on my thighs. “We were just discussing the patient’s treatment plan. Can you please show Mr. Pitt to the pack room?”
To call a member by anything other than their road name is an insult in the club, but I’m not about to announce my knowledge of MC protocol in the middle of the damn clinic. Goldie is still eying me cautiously, but I hold Pitt’s stare as he backs up. He doesn’t look even remotely threatened by the alpha herding him away, but then, he barely flinched when I shoved him up against the wall. Definitely not a stranger to violence, which makes sense if he’s the Iron Flyers’ Sergeant-at-Arms.
If anything, he looksrelieved, and he glances back as he reaches the corner, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m glad he’s got you in his corner, butterfly.”
His words play on a loop in my head as I make my way down the hallway to the trauma beds. Given their hypersensitive state, all incoming omegas are relocated out of the main clinic area as quickly as possible, but I’m surprised to find that Wings has already been moved into a private room. Dr. Peterson, one of the emergency medicine physicians, is waiting for me, a sympathetic gleam in his usually stern gaze. “He’s yours?” he asks me bluntly as I reach his side.
There’s no point denying it, I suppose, especially when Goldie files an incident report about me shoving an alpha into the wall. “Yes. We’ve been friends since we were kids.”
He looks at me curiously, since I’m the last person in our chatty clinic to ever air my personal business. “It’s not a claiming bite, but it’s damn close to his scent gland. I get that you’refeeling territorial, but you need to put that aside if you want to treat him.”
“Of course.” I slide my hands into my pockets so he can’t see the tremble in my fingers. “The alpha explained what happened and I believe it took them both by surprise. He reacted out of instinct.”
“Understandable, especially given the patient’s age. And they belong to the same gang, am I correct?”
No doubt he saw the cut and immediately thought of Sons of Anarchy, or some other fictional MC. I mean, he’s not completely wrong about the similarities, but that’s not how the Iron Flyers frame themselves with civilians. “They’re a club. They run local businesses and even have a few charities.” I force a casual shrug. “They’re not going to cause trouble.”
“Fair enough.” Peterson glances at his watch and then gives me a frank look. “You’re happy to see this case all the way through?”
“Of course. I’ll buzz you if anything changes, otherwise I’ll see you at discharge.”
He nods and heads off, leaving me to steel myself before I head into Wings’ room.
“He settled quickly,” Janice, one of the nurses, tells me with a gentle smile. Wings is sedated, but they managed to remove his cut and boots, and I stare at him under the white sheet. There’s always been something a bit magical about him, like sunlight is permanently trapped under his skin, giving him an ethereal glow. But now he looks pale and worn out, and Janice pats my shoulder in sympathy. “All his vitals are good, Abbie, and he’s responding well to the drip. As soon as he wakes up, we can get him some food and make him more comfortable.”
Janice specializes in bond sickness and has almost twenty years of experience, so it’s easy to take comfort from her words. I’m absolutely convinced that nurses are the best people on theplanet, and I give her a grateful smile. “He’s mine,” I say quietly, relieved to actually put the words out there for the first time. “Obviously, we’re not bonded…”
“There are lots of different bonds,” she tells me lightly, and flips her hand over, showing me her wrist. There’s a faint scar there, shaped almost like a heart, even though it’s clearly a carefully placed bite. “I’m a beta, but my brother’s best friend is my world. His pack has an omega, but they know he has me, too. It works out, even if it’s not conventional.”
“Screw convention,” I mutter, giving her fingers a squeeze. “He’s lucky to have you, Janice.”
She beams at me. “And don’t I remind him of that every day!”
Ten minutes later, I’m alone with Wings as he makes a restless sound and opens his eyes. He reaches for me before he sees me, and I grip his hand, relieved to feel that his temperature has dropped. “Hi, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”
“Rough.” He clears his throat and I hold the paper cup while he sips from the straw. When he’s done, he gives me a sad look. “So, it wasn’t all just some fucked-up nightmare?”
“No. You presented. We’ve run your hormone panel to confirm it.”
“Jesus. I thought it was hard being a latent…” He winces. “Sorry. I just mean it’s weird. I never imagined this would happen to me.”
I get it. Presenting as an omega can feel like you’ve woken up in a stranger’s body. A lot of omegas welcome the change, excited about packs, and bonds, and doting alphas, but the rules are different in motorcycle clubs, as I know only too well. “It’s a big adjustment, but I’m here to help. You’ve got through the hardest part, and now we make sure you have the right support in place.”
“Abbie…” He gives me a chiding look. “I’m not one of your fragile little patients. We both know what this means.”
I shrug. “You said the club is changing. Maybe you’re the litmus test.”
