Page 123 of Knot Their Omega

“Regarding Astraea?” I ask for clarification as Dr. Malcom sits down at his desk and gestures to the two empty seats in front of the space.

I walk over to sit in the right chair, while Nathaníel ends up walking over to sit in the left seat. We exchange a quick look before I ask to ensure Astraea’s asleep.

“She’s out,” he confirms. “She had to have been exhausted. Laid in the nest and was snoozing away.”

“We should ensure she takes the next few days slower as she adjusts to this new lifestyle,” I emphasize before we both look at Dr. Malcom. He doesn’t seem to mind our prioritizedcommentary, but from the seriousness that floods his face, I feel like this next conversation is worrisome.

“What’s the pressing urgency?” I ask, hoping we don’t dance around the bush with this conversation.

“So, how long has Nathan Jr. been on addictive rut blockers?”

Nathaníel frowns deeply while I have no choice but to try to think of how long it’s been.

“To be honest, I’m not sure,” I finally admit. “It’s been a long time. Obviously, we all started taking them when we became sexually active, but not consistently. At least for myself, Kai, and Kenji. Those two rarely take it since they have their ways of calming their ruts.”

“And yourself?”

“Once every few months? The minimum dose that’s the least problematic,” I admit and shrug. “I normally don’t react to Omegas. Astraea’s the first Omega to ignite my Alpha senses.”

“Genetics in your favor,” he notes. “Knox is like that.”

“He knows Knox?” Nathaníel inquires quietly, even though we all can hear him.

Dr. Malcom smirks.

“Part of his pack. I think I’d know he has a son with our Omega.”

“Your… Omega?” Nathaníel looks even more confused before he looks my way. “Velvet?”

“Their pack relationship is complicated as fuck,” I emphasize and brush my hand in Dr. Malcom’s direction. “Old people shit that we don’t need to involve ourselves in.”

“We’re not old,” Dr. Malcom mumbles, but he knows I’m trying to lighten the intense atmosphere. “Anyway, so you’d say you take those rut blockers once every six months?”

“Hmmm. Probably every eight to nine, and I take the lowest dose,” I confess. “I don’t like them. Makes me feel woozy.Like I’m floating and shit. Don’t need that type of high,” I conclude. “Anything I take is the lowest dose and to be the least problematic for me. Any other preventative measures are short term.” I may have taken something so I wouldn’t be so horny to think straight with Astraea, but I made sure it was a natural remedy.

Triple the cost compared to the market shit, but at least it has the minimum side effects. Rather get the chance of diarrhea than some crazed knot-blocking shit.

“What’s the big deal?” I decide to ask. “Was a bad bunch reported from the government or some shit?”

Dr. Malcom tries not to look so mangled by this conversation, but the creases of his forehead dip when he grabs a file and slides it along the desk so me and Nathaníel can have a look at it.

“I’m sharing this because you guys are a pack, and you need to be informed,” he discloses as we stare at the piece of paper.

I notice immediately how Nathaníel’s body tenses up, but I’m still trying to figure out what this paper discloses. I have to return to the top, scanning the initial information that pertains to Nathaniel Jr.

It takes getting to the second part of the page to see the bold caption of words.

Diagnosis Stage IV Cancer.

Potential triggered cause:Rut Overdose

(long offender - 98% probability. Further testing must be conducted to narrow down dose, brand, and length of usage).

For a few moments, my heart stops.

My breath catches in my throat while my eyes are glued on that single line that emphasizes why we’re having this conversation.

Why Dr. Malcom legally had to tell us, the pack, how severe the current circumstances are…

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