Page 12 of Knot Your Baby

She perches on the edge of the exam table, batting her eyelashes. “Well, doctor, I’ve been having these awful cramps. I think it might be my ovaries.”

I resist the urge to sigh. Last week it was mysterious heart palpitations. Luckily, I didn’t deal with that one, but the week before, she had unexplained dizziness.

All perfectly normal readings. I’m sure today will be the same.

That strawberry scent lingers in my nose, making my head fuzzy and hard to focus on Miss McAllister’s latest ailment.

As I check Miss McAllister’s vitals, Miss Allister’s eyes flicker around my face. She leans forward on the exam table. “Dr. Astor, are you single?”

“Miss McAllister, are you coming onto me because fraternizing with patients is against hospital policy? It’s a dismissible offense.”

“But you’re an alpha, right?” Her eyes light up.

“I am.”

“With a pack?”

“Yes.”

Her red lips curve into a smile. “And you don’t have an omega.”

“And how would you know that?”

“I saw an article about you and your pack mate on social media. That you’re not looking for an omega.”

“That doesn’t mean we don’t want one.” I cross my arms. “We aren’t looking for just any omega. We want her to be our soulmate.”

“All of you?”

“Yes, and if you weren’t a beta, you’d understand scent matching and how beautiful it is.”

She bats her long, thick eyelashes. “But she might be ugly. And I’m still expecting to be revealed as an omega.”

She’s twenty-nine years old. I doubt it.

I shake my head, keeping my voice professional. “Lie back on the bed and I’ll feel your abdomen.”

She flops back, hiking up her shirt before I ask her to.

My fingers probe her stomach, finding nothing unusual.

“Maybe you should do an internal exam?” She bites her lip.

“That won’t be necessary.” I snap off my gloves and write on my prescription pad. “You just need these.”

“What?”

“Painkillers.” I tear off the script and hand it to her. “Regular over-the-counter ones will do.”

“Painkillers?”

“Yes. Let me show you out.” I guide Miss McAllister into the corridor, hoping to get her out before she causes a scene.

She trails her fingers along the wall as we walk. “I heard about Club Midnight. Everyone wears masks there.” She steps closer, her perfume cloying. “If I went, would you touch me? You wouldn’t even know it was me.”

That strawberry scent hits me again, stronger this time. It’s driving me crazy, and I need to find its source because I know it’s not this patient. I stop walking. “I’d know. Your scent tells me you’re a beta. I’d know not to knot you.”

“Oh, but you could.” She presses against my arm. “I could take your knot.”

---