Page 39 of Citius

I propped an elbow on the table and rested my chin in my palm, studying her features for any sign of illness. A bit pale with shadows under the eyes. Nothing unusual. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t in a precarious state.

Tilting my head further to the side, I flashed her a lazy grin. “Talked about what?”

Her eyes narrowed even further, promising a sharp retort, when a few of my staff walked in, chatting about an ongoing sensor charging issue. Peering over her glasses, Morgan gave me a pointed look, suggesting we would return to the subject later.

Fine by me.

I had no intention of dropping the traditional alpha niceties around Morgan. If occasionally showing her the respect an omega deserved provoked her enough to reveal her scent—even just once—it’d be worth weathering her irritation.

Pheromones were my business. I analyzed them all day, every day. Was a world-class expert in them. Yet Morgan’s scent was a mystery—one I was determined to solve, regardless of whether I could pursue her romantically.

My ultimate forbidden fruit.

***

“Hold on, Talia,” I said to my deputy administrator, pushing open the door to my office. “Let me grab the lab budget—”

A pervasive cloud of jasmine alerted me to the presence of an uninvited guest. Anya leaned against my desk, flipping through a budget proposal.

Talia took one look at her and backed away. “I’ll get it tomorrow.”

Anya wore a dark green tunic and matching slim-cut trousers. Her silver hair, intermingled with lingering streaks of her natural black color, was styled in a short, sleek cut. Large square earrings of hammered gold matched the statement ring on her right index finger.

A chic, modern look—all but ruined by the chunky yellow rubber mules on her feet.

Joaquin had taught me enough about color theory to know dark green and canary yellow clashed. But even my pack mother, who loved to gild herself in expensive things—as if she needed a constant reminder that she was Chaz Carling’s only living female mate—was susceptible to creature comforts.

Gently closing the door behind me to avoid alarming Talia—or anyone else—I stepped closer, thumbs hooked in my pockets and unleashed a carefully measured amount of dominance.

“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, Dr. Sethi?”

“You received his text?” she asked, setting the proposal back on the pile.

“Obviously. I replied to it.”

“I know, it’s just that we so rarely see you, and your father wanted to—”

“I know what he wants,” I said, cutting her off as I ran a hand through my hair.

She always carried Chaz’s dirty water when it came to me, no matter how little she cared for the task.

“And I need you to specify which role you’re using to speak with me right now—colleague or pack mother.” I took another step closer. “Because we have an agreement.”

“Yes.” Anya placed a hand on the desktop, trying to mask that she needed to grip the edge for support. “I haven’t forgotten. Just consider this a friendly visit from a colleague, checking in on her medical fellow.”

I scoffed. “You don’t need to worry about Morgan.”

Giving her a wide berth, I walked around my desk, waiting for the motion-activated scent-neutralizing spray to hiss before settling in my chair.

“Tell Chaz I’ll be there—and there’d better not be anyspecialguests. Ten omega profiles? Fine.” Leaning forward, I channeled my best Owen impression, imbuing my tone with iron resolve. “But no surprises.”

Twelve

Morgan

Ilay on the gymnastics mat in a boneless heap, gasping, with a thousand molten thorns embedded in my skin and nothing but my cold sweat for comfort. A spotlight seared my face, melting my brain. Grace screamed. And screamed.

Then I was the one screaming, spewing horrible things because I couldn’t read my pharmacology textbook. Couldn’t focus on the words long enough for them to make sense, all nauseating squiggles and slashes, beyond comprehension.

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