Page 63 of Citius

He was polished. Professional. Powerful.

Garvey couldn’t withstand the dominance radiating off Cal. It was relentless, like high tide eroding the shore. His head sagged between his shoulders, and he cowered against the wall, panicked eyes fixed on the carpet.

I wasn’t faring much better. Pressing my back against the closet door, nails biting into the laminate, I forced my chin to stay down, resisting the primal impulse to bare my neck in submission. I couldn’t—not with Garvey so close.

“Out.” The slightest inclination of Cal’s chin compelled Garvey away from me. “Now.”

The asshole had no choice but to obey. Garvey rushed out, scurrying along the side of the hallway to avoid getting a full dose of Cal’s potent disapproval—and furious pheromones, no doubt.

Cal tracked his every move, his expression thunderous in profile. Fists clenched, muscles taut beneath his tailored suit, he looked like an immovable wall.

His alpha wasn’t just displeased. Oh, no. It was simmering with rage.

I knew the feeling.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice carrying an unfamiliar edge, that he was trying his best to mask.

“Fine,” I replied, careful to keep my tone light, despite my labored breathing and the sweat dotting my brow.

“Has he done this before?”

“Nothing happened.” My denial was too quick. Wrong move.

The gold flecks in his eyes were practically molten. “When?”

“It’s been handled.”

Cal stared at me, his brows knit tight as emotions warred across his face, but he suppressed them before I could get a clear look. Was that tender disappointment in the depths of his gaze, or a fresh sting of rejection? I couldn’t trust my own eyes, nor did I know how to proceed.

We didn’t—couldn’t—have the kind of connection that allowed an omega to soothe an alpha. I nipped that in the bud two weeks ago. Evenif I wanted to reach out, to steady him, I couldn’t. We were at work, very much on the clock, leaving for a vital meeting in ten minutes.

What was I supposed to do?

Salvation came from Dr. Flemming. “I’ll handle this.”

He’d probably been there the whole time. Fucking fabulous. That guaranteed administrative intervention and an even bigger mess. Exactly what I needed—to be labeled as a problematic potential hire, an omega who can’t co-exist with alpha staff members.

The presence of a trusted confidant seemed to help Cal. Not enough to mellow him back to normal, but at least I could take full breaths again. He braced an arm against the doorframe, exchanging the occasional curt nod with Dr. Flemming as they spoke in hushed tones. Neither man stepped inside my office.

The delayed realization that I was standing at ground zero for a pheromone bomb churned my stomach. The filtration system would clear Garvey’s stink in a matter of minutes, but I grabbed the neutralizing spray anyway.

Everything was fine. The trembling fingers struggling to pull the bottle trigger were a figment of my imagination. I still had control.

The frosted desk lamp cast sail-shaped shadows on the wall. Good—center yourself. What else could I see?

I aimed a few quick bursts of spray toward my desk and turned, hunting for grounding objects. There, item number two—the reassuring outline of the pepper spray in my bag’s side pocket.

Sparing a perfunctory spritz for myself, I scanned the shelves. My gaze landed on a framed photo of Tenny and Kip as kittens, their round, fuzzy bodies curled up on my pillow, sound asleep. And—

“Good to go?” Cal’s voice broke through, unknowingly disrupting my centering exercise.

“Yeah.” I dropped the spray, grabbed my bag, and forced a professional smile as I turned toward the door. “Ready.”

Cal gave me a quick once over and a nod of reassurance. Then, he clapped Dr. Flemming on the shoulder and headed down the hall at a measured pace. His back was too stiff, his footsteps heavier than usual.

I paused beside Dr. Flemming, compelled to say something, but no words willingly offered themselves for sacrifice.

“It’s okay,” he said. His kind smile eased my lingering tension. “Go to your meeting.”

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