Page 50 of Citius

I had so many questions about his family, especially his half-sister, but I couldn’t ask them. Not only was it unprofessional, but the risk of hitting a landmine was too great. Especially if something happened to his mother. Something terrible.

I fixed my gaze on the leaf-strewn pavement. Maybe he wouldn’t notice my hesitant curiosity.

“My mom isn’t off-limits.” Cal unlocked his truck with his key fob, and we paused a few steps from the passenger door. “But it’s what you’re thinking.”

“When?” I murmured.

“I was eight.”

Asking for confirmation felt like a crime, but even so, I looked up to meet his gaze. “After a pregnancy loss?”

“Mhm. Waning syndrome ate her alive, but she never let on, not until the end.” Cal’s lips twisted into a knot as he gave a slight, heartrending shrug. “There’s no cure for a toxic relationship.”

I didn’t know what to say—what to do.

I had been so cavalier, mentioning waning syndrome like it was nothing, as if it was so easy to treat with a few purrs, hurting him, even though I hadn’t meant to.

Based on Owen’s carefully measured reaction and Cal’s body language, his pain ran much deeper than he was letting on.

She must have been an omega. A poorly treated omega. Why else did he respect my designation so much? Why did he never take our instincts or safety for granted?

“She always said I had good judgment.” His chest brushed against my shoulder as he opened the passenger door, then offered a hand to help me onto the seat. “That’s how I knew Owen was the biotech yin to my pheromone yang as soon as we met.”

Resting his forearm against the bottom of the passenger window, Cal angled his torso toward me, dropping down until his face was almost level with mine.

“Never thought I’d find a better collaborator.”

I was tempted to reach out and close the door, to put distance between myself and the creeping promise of his words, but the gentle anchor of his arm made it impossible.

“Then you came along.”

The hazy glow of the streetlamps caught the golden highlights in his hair and made his eyes sparkle with indulgent, affectionate mischief.

“You know, when I’m stuck doing budget work or trapped in a never-ending meeting, I think about you. The succinct way you phrase your late-night emails, that no one can argue with. How much detail you put into everything you do. All your ideas for PheroPass. It’s like…someone turned on the light, and my job is fun again. You make me feel more vibrant. More alive.” Cal leaned in with deliberate intent, his free hand cupping the back of my neck, his breath a whisper against my cheek. Flooding my system with the sweetest poison. “It’s addicting. And I want more… So much more.”

Eyes fixed on the hollow at the base of his throat, pretending that his handsome features weren’t moving ever closer, I tried to evade. To put up some defense.

“What do you mean, Dr. Carling?”

“That I’m dying to kiss you, Dr. Van Daal.”

He gave me plenty of time to stop him—if I wanted to—but myhands had already sought refuge within the soft folds of his cardigan.

Cal’s kiss swept over me like a wave of comforting bliss.

“So brilliant,” he murmured between languid slants of his lips across mine. “So beautiful. Drives me crazy.”

His fingers spanned the width of my lower back, shifting me toward the edge of the seat, allowing our connection to deepen. Kisses growing long and worshiping. Almost adoring. Overwhelming me with a sensation that I had long forgotten. Pleasure.

But it couldn’t last.

“No, Cal.” I pulled away, hoping my rejection seemed swift, certain—and brutal. Despite my kiss-stung lips and thundering heart. “We can’t.”

“I know you have a lot on your plate—”

“And that’s why this is so stupid. Maybe the stupidest thing either of us has ever done.”

“Okay.” Cal eased back, hands falling away. “We can table this for now.”

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