Page 59 of Citius

“Do you know where we are?” I asked the volleyball player from the opposing team, who was still catching her breath after taking a hard fall while dodging a headshot. We were in the training room of the Rhine Fieldhouse. Whistles and cheers echoed down the hall from the arena.

Her answer was instant, tone firm. “Northport.”

Close enough, especially for a student from Nebraska.

“Who won the first set?” I asked, watching for any signs of her struggling to speak.

“We did.” Also correct. Their team had dominated the entire game, all but wiping the floor with our girls.

Studying her pupils, I asked, “Did you win your last game?”

“Yes,” she said, chin jutting out with pride. “Won the five before that, too.”

“Good job,” I said, appreciating her resilience.

Her assistant coach stepped into view. Their expression was polite yet expectant. I gave a reassuring nod. No signs of a concussion—though she’d probably have some bruises tomorrow.

After finishing the assessment protocol, I cleared her to return to the bench.

“Well done.” Dr. Gilbert Flemming approached, having watched the entire exam from the corner.

He was a team doctor for volleyball and gymnastics and an attending physician at the university’s sports medicine clinic. A well-trimmedmustache and bow tie lent a scholarly air to his appearance, so long as you ignored the dinosaurs embroidered on the fabric. He was a stout beta with the same warm-hearted demeanor and love of dad jokes as my favorite uncle.

“Yes, very well done,” a woman said from behind me. Her voice was throaty, sinuous, almost unnervingly smooth. The same voice spent sixteen minutes critiquing my interpretation of a vascular ultrasound image last week.

Other fellows mentioned that Dr. Sethi liked to make surprise visits, but I’d yet to experience it myself. Until now.

She wore a lavender blouse with a large bow on the collar and exaggerated French cuffs with matching wide-legged pants. The monochromatic look showed her slim figure to its best effect. Diamond solitaires glittered on her ears.

“I’ve been hearing good things about your performance, Morgan. Very good things.” The corners of her mouth pinched upwards into her usual rigid approximation of a smile. An automatic reflex brought on by decades of professional courtesy. “Apparently, you and our Cal arequitethe pair.”

She must have caught wind of our prolonged one-on-one meetings—or maybe someone saw us leaving campus together last week. But Cal and I had nothing to hide. Our work meetings were meticulously documented, and while our personal relationship edged into uncertain territory, he didn’t have direct control over my research project or fellowship.

Not uncertain, I corrected myself, trying to block out the lingering memories of his touch, how his kisses came in gentle, subtly domineering waves—

No. Now was not the time for futile fantasies.

Especially not with his pack mother staring at me—because shedidhave the power to torpedo my career.

“Yes,” I said, a touch too quickly, though my expression remained poised. “His guidance has been invaluable.”

“As if that was ever in question,” Dr. Flemming said, nodding emphatically, his admiration for Cal more than evident. “His partnership with Redwing has been quite a boon for the university—not that we’d expect anything less from that brilliant Carling blood, eh, Anya?”

His tone was straightforward, his smile open, yet something in the subtext of his words made Dr. Sethi’s eyes narrow. It didn’t seem like a dig at Heather—more like an undercurrent of sympathy.

Was Heather truly being sidelined at Verray, relegated to mediocrityby the alpha men in her family, simply for being a beta?

“Of course,” Dr. Sethi murmured, her tone subdued, as her thumb idly traced the stack of diamond eternity bands on her left ring finger. Mating rings. Four, maybe five. It was hard to tell without staring, but one stood out—a thick band of emerald-cut diamonds, its brilliance unmatched, placed closest to her heart.

I couldn’t help but wonder whose commitment warranted such a prominent statement. Chaz or Jorge, perhaps?

Dr. Flemming regarded Dr. Sethi expectantly. “Anya, don’t you have something to say?”

“Oh, thank you for reminding me.” Her lips attempted another pursed smile. “Have you signed up to work at the Millwright Marathon? We’re still lacking a few—”

“Not that, Anya.” Dr. Flemming gave her a bewildered look, then returned his attention to me, offering his most entreating smile. “There’s a job getting posted next week. It’s for a permanent, full-time sports medicine physician, and we’d like you to apply.”

“You’ll have to forgive Gilbert if he seems a bit overeager. His team so rarely adds a new member,” Dr. Sethi said. “And there may be a better choice for you elsewhere.”

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