Page 112 of Puck & Her Blades

When I wrap my arms around myself, I shudder. Even the slight pressure of the jersey on my oversensitive nipples sends sparks of pleasure through me.

“Did you or your Alpha parents lie about you being a NH?” McKay asks.

I whine, paling.

Shit, that’s a serious accusation.

My parents would be arrested, and I’d be sent to the Institute, if we’d lied.

“No,” I whimper.

Asher moves to stand by the bed, laying his hand gently on my shoulder. “These are only questions, babe. You’re not in trouble. Whatever the truth is, we’ll stand by you.”

“We’ll protect you, I promise,” Cygnus adds.

McKay slips the phone back into his pocket. “Have you been taking illegal heat suppressants?”

This time I have to lean up to grip Asher’s arm because the disapproval in McKay’s tone is enough to feel like I’m being slapped, repeatedly. “I’d never…”

“We know.” Asher crouches down next to me, running his fingers soothingly through my hair. “You’re a good Omega. Our good Omega.”

His praise and approval is like balm.

It soothes me, counteracting McKay’s disapproval.

“Then the most likely answer to this unexpected heat is the simplest.” McKay sniffs. “She was never a Non-heat in the first place. She was misdiagnosed and so misregistered. I imagine that her heats were merely delayed. It happens sometimes with Omegas who overdo sports, hard labor, or are too vigorously disciplined.”

So, my intense training for my figure staking has delayed my heats…? Why didn’t my parents tell me that? Warn me?

Why did they let me think that I was a Non-heat?

Did they know, or was it a deliberate masking of the truth to keep my mind on winning the World Championship?

I want to hurl.

“Is she fine then?” Cygnus asks, hopefully. “I mean, if the heats were only delayed…?”

McKay huffs. “Far from it. Delayed heats like this are dangerous. When they finally do hit, they always hit with a vengeance in my experience. My medical opinion is that the only way she’ll survive is if it’s counteracted by her not only rutting but bonding with an Alpha. Multiple Alphas, in fact, would increase her survival chances.”

“I could die…?” I whisper.

Cygnus is as pale and still as a statue. “I won’t let that happen. You’re not leaving me. You can bond with Jackson and Zev.”

McKay ignores him. “I’d suggest a fifty-fifty survival rate. This is why I recommend that Omegas refrain from sports. It’s written into my manuals and reference books about good Omega care. When Omegas forget their place, then they frequently end up dead.”

Terror floods through me, and I huddle on the bed.

Asher leaps up, thrumming with rage. “Shut the fuck up, asshole.”

He snatches the startled McKay by the scruff of the neck and drags him to the door.

McKay struggles, but Asher shakes him like a rat. Then he swings the door open and throws him out into the corridor.

I hear McKay squawking in pain, before the door slams shut.

My breathing is ragged, and I’m shaking.

Asher has thrown the doctor out but he can’t get rid of his words as easily.

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