Page 75 of Altius
Anya swallowed hard. “That I wouldn’t get in your way at work, and I… That I’d never use our connection to my advantage.”
“No,” I scoffed. “You promised to act like we aren’t related—because according to your precious daughter, we aren’t. And I must admit, you’ve done a pretty good job adhering to our agreement… Until now.”
She hit the arm of the chair. “You’re going to get caught!”
“So what?” I said, pushing off the wall with a shrug. Leaning forward, sending more of my irate pheromones in her direction, I spelled it out for her.
“I’m not Morgan’s actual boss. But Iama department director—and the university’s lifeline to Redwing. They won’t cut me loose.” I adjusted my glasses with a coarse laugh. “I could set Morgan up in her own clinic with a snap of my fingers. But that’s not her style. Because she needs the grind, to put in the effort, to do her best. Every day. That’s why you like her, despite whatever unfortunate motherly concern she seems to have inspired. And that’s precisely why you’re going to continue treating her like a regular medical fellow.”
Her dark eyes quivered with some unidentifiable emotion. The same way she looked at me after Mom died. It wasn’t love. Maybe not even concern. It was sincere, whatever it was—and several decades too late.
“But—”
“I outrank you, Anya. You have no power over me.” Another wave of dominance overwhelmed her, making her tremble. Sweat dotted her upper lip. “I’ve only tolerated Heather because I’m a good brother. And I don’t have to be.”
My phone vibrated. The message was from Morgan.
Last appointment finished on time. Can you believe it? See you soon.
Suppressing the urge to smile, I stared down at my pack mother.
No, that was too generous a term. She’d never been more than a distantly disapproving stepmother.
“It’d be much easier to protect Spencer and the rest of your grandchildren if I didn’t have to keep playing these games.” Pausing, I decided to make myself clear. Might as well confirm her suspicions while identifying my bottom line. “Stay out ofourbusiness. Understood?”
Anya forced out a nod, then turned away, looking oddly stooped. Defeated. The fading sun showed the lines of her age.
She’d played her hand well. Won most of her bets, too, and won them in a big way. I’d give her that.
But I’d cashed out of the Carling game long ago. Now, I was all in on being happy with Morgan and my best friends.
Checking the time, I turned to leave.
“If you’ll excuse me, our flight for Vermont leaves at six.”
***
Morgan climbed into my passenger seat at ten after five, the pointed tip of her nose a comely shade of pink as she lowered her hood, brushing away a bit of lingering snow as she leaned over—and pulled on my cheek.
“Just checking,” Morgan teased. “Never know when it might be Joaquin in disguise.”
“He’s never touching my truck again,” I said, claiming a quick kiss once the cab light went off. “Seat still doesn’t feel right.”
Pulling away from the curb, I reached over to rub the back of her cold neck, earning a shiver of delight for my efforts.
“Any last-minute requests?”
“Prescriptions?”
“Just picked them up.” Opening the console, I revealed a small foam medication transport container. “Still want to get induced at six?”
“Yes. The sooner we start, the sooner I can return to normal.” Morgan pulled off the lid, eyes narrowing at the contents: five vials ensconced in an ice pack. “Why are there so many?”
“Two are inducers. The other three are optional, in case you don’t pick up enough of our pheromones.”
“Is the only difference their dosage?” she asked, picking up one of the aphrodisiacs to read the label.
“Pretty much. Baby Bear is if you need a little nudge, while Papa Bear…”
