Page 148 of Citius

“Hey.” Cal cupped my cheek, turned my face back to his, wearing the worried expression I’d been trying to prevent. “I thought maybe you were still upset about Heather, but that’s not it. Do you have a migraine?”

My lips and tongue waged a brief battle, unsure whether it was better to lie or be honest. I landed somewhere in the middle.

“Yeah,” I croaked out. “Just need to take my meds. Nothing to worry about.” I leaned closer, resting my hand on his thigh. “Now kiss me goodbye. For real.”

Cal scrutinized my face, cataloging the glassiness of my pupils and the pallor of my complexion. Still, he returned my kiss.

“Call me if you need anything, okay? Even just a body pillow.”

“Will do.”

In a final act of desperation, afraid he might follow me inside, I exploited one of Cal’s few flaws: his ego.

“And just for the record, you were magnificent last night, Dr. Carling.”

The post-orgasmic glow only lasted until I reached the safety of my bedroom. I didn’t crash. I cratered.

Goddamn suppressant reduction.

***

Monday morning was just as bad. I even skipped working out for the first time in months. The rest of the day passed with minimal trouble…until our PheroPass meeting.

Owen attending in person was never a good sign. He was like a well-dressed harbinger of doom, and today’s message was no exception—in fact, it was downright abysmal.

“The coaching staff declined Redwing’s meeting request,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Cal tapped his pen against the conference room table, a subtle outlet for his growing frustration. “They believe the pheromone spikes are nothing more than, and I quote, ‘youthful exuberance.’”

Talia leaned forward, her frown deepening. “But we don’t know who—or what—is responsible. The players are at risk.”

“I know,” Cal replied, the gravity of his voice reassuring everyone that the concern was mutual. “Which is why I’ve elevated the matter to university athletics. I’m prepared to take this to the top if necessary.”

“Likewise,” Owen added.

“But we’re hoping it won’t come to that,” Cal said diplomatically.

“That being said…” Owen leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. “Redwing’s legal department has been briefed on the situation. This could get ugly.”

Staring at my laptop keyboard, too drained to take notes, I failed to understand the coaching staff’s logic. The safety of the players should always come first. If both Designation Services and Redwing were warning them of potential danger…

The football players were just kids. They were going about their lives, attending classes, hanging out with friends, and planning for the future. Unaware of the danger looming on the sidelines—that could ruin everything in one fell swoop.

It only took one second.

Why—why—were they squandering a chance to take preventive measures, a chance that I hadn’t been afforded?

“Lunch?” a crisp voice asked over my shoulder.

Turning, I found Owen watching me, already wearing his overcoat and holding his work bag. Cal hovered in the doorway, talking to Talia, eyes darting my way after every other word.

Oh no. I’d zoned out—all the way out. How much of the meeting had I missed?

Rather than panic, I took my time saving my scant notes and closed my laptop before getting to my feet.

“Sorry,” I said, “don’t have time.”

Owen’s mouth narrowed into a grim line.

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