Page 64 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Digging my thumbnail into the side of my pointer finger, I ran through everything I knew about effective treatments for waning syndrome.

“Can we fool his alpha with some of my unwashed clothes or by packing a few of my throw pillows in his suitcase? Or we could try to bottle my scent. Your study mentioned that it was particularly effective.”

He nodded. “There’s several things we can try—for both of you.”

Cal pulled up the dates I’d been in San Diego.

Scanning the data, I watched as my levels kept rising higher and higher, then went haywire on Saturday during the game.

When the pheromone bombs were at their worst, right before Amir got concussed.

With obvious reluctance, Cal zeroed in on the four-minute window of Garvey’s rampage.

Red.

Every single reading was bright, vivid red.

My pheromones had gone nuclear. And I’d had no idea.

Revulsion coiled within me. I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to keep my emotions in check. “That’s why Dr. McEwen dismissed me. He couldn’t let me go with Amir to the hospital, because the smell of an omega in distress…”

“It’s unbearable,” Cal said, wrapping his arms around my waist, carefully shifting me forward, angling my injured side outward before pulling me into his lap.

“Alijah was beside himself. That’s why he insisted on washing and de-scenting you so thoroughly. Yes, Garvey left his stench all over you, but your pheromones were too much for him to handle.”

Fisting Cal’s sweater, I leaned against his chest, taking comfort in the steady rhythm of his heart. “Why didn’t he say anything?”

“Didn’t want to upset you, I think,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “You know, for a beta who didn’t grow up around omegas, the kid really impressed me. The video, getting you clean clothes and feeding you… Joaquin picked a good one.”

“Hey, what about me?” I leaned back, tugging on his scruffy chin. “He’s my boyfriend now, too. Don’t I deserve a little credit for my discerning eye for men?”

“I’ll give you all the credit you want.” Cradling the back of my head, Cal captured my mouth for a long, probing kiss.

Honeyed drops of his pheromones dulled my worries, half-convincing me that if I kissed him long enough, got my hands and mouth on his sweaty bare skin, that if he knotted me right here and refused to let me go, all my problems would be solved.

But my logical mind won out, as always.

Surfacing for air, I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I’ll text Chantal after we eat. See if we can move my next appointment to an earlier date.”

“Want me to go with you?” he offered in a calm, even voice. Leaving the decision entirely up to me.

“Is that ethical?”

“When it comes to your health, I’m willing to compromise.” Cal’s hold tightened around me to an almost painful degree. “Because I can’t lose you, Morgan. I can’t—I won’t.”

Words failed me.

My health was the one area I had the least confidence in. I knew he’d never let me suffer the way his mother had, but if I truly had mate waning syndrome…

As my mind reeled, my omega took over, choosing to reassure Cal in the basest of ways—with pure instinct—clamping my jaw on his thick shoulder and biting down, careful to maintain the protective barrier of his sweater between my teeth and his skin.

Cal swallowed a half-moan, hands fisting at my dress and hair, pulling me closer, betraying his desire to be bonded for real.

“Sweetheart,” he warned, voice thick with lust, “either I go reheat dinner in the next fifteen seconds, or I’m going to lose it.”

“How so?” I asked, tongue darting out to give the side of his neck an apologetic lick. “Because I’m not opposed to being fucked right here if you want to punish me. Want to pretend I’m your naughty assistant?”

With a purr so loud that it verged on a growl, Cal swept the papers and his laptop to the side, then took me by the waist, lifting me onto the island as if I weighed nothing, settling me on all fours, facing away from him.

“Keep testing my patience, Morgan,” he said, pushing up my skirt to swat my right ass cheek. Thick fingers tore through my nylons. “See what happens.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Dr. Carling,” I said, sliding my arms along the cold marble, flattening my torso against the island. Making sure my hips were raised as high in the air as possible. “I only misfiled three bloodwork results this week.”

“Save the roleplay for another night. I can’t think straight right now. You seduced me instead of feeding me.” He pulled my underwear to the side, breath hot against my core. “And now, I’m ravenous.”

He feasted upon me with wild abandon until I came, then carried me into his bedroom, where after another round of excruciatingly blissful foreplay and a liberal amount of lube, he fucked me so hard the headboard cut white scratches into the recently painted midnight blue wall.

When he came, filling me to the brim with the thundering pressure of his knot, earning a keening wail as I climaxed once more, I was made of nothing but liquid pleasure, content to exist within his embrace—until Cal’s stomach rumbled.

Loudly.

“Uh,” he muttered, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “think the pho’s spoiled by now?”

I succumbed to a fit of giggles and snuggled closer.

Stroking Cal’s back while he thought out loud, debating whether to order fresh pho or something else, I watched snowflakes fall outside, blanketing the roof of the art museum in the distance.

It was almost February, meaning there were still six months until the end of my fellowship.

Craving Cal’s touch was one thing. Even now, with the reassuring heat of his knot pulsing deep within me, I still wanted him closer, deeper, reveling in mutual pleasure.

But physical contact wasn’t imperative. Keeping in touch via text or a video chat when things got busy was enough to tide us over.

But it wasn’t like that with Wyatt. He needed to be touched, to have tactile proof that we were together. Calls and texts simply didn’t cut it anymore.

It was very likely that Cal’s theory would prove to be correct… Meaning that Wyatt and I needed to bond—sooner rather than later.

Breaking all the promises I’d made to myself, negating all the boundaries and deadlines I’d imposed on my various relationships. It would also put my fellowship in even greater jeopardy.

The only thing my mating status wouldn’t affect was my consulting agreement with Redwing.

Owen had probably seen this coming a mile away and opted to protect PheroPass while simultaneously providing a legal safeguard for my relationship with Cal.

I could still feel the mesmerizing reverberations of his purr, the magnetic pull of those quicksilver eyes. How close I’d come to submitting to him.

If inundating me with whitepapers was some kind of intellectual foreplay, then what did that make the oral sex he’d lavished upon me until it broke my heat?

Just how deep was the enigmatic pool of placid water Owen Redmond pretended to be…and how far had I fallen without realizing?

Jacobi cackled in the back of my mind, “ You’ll be lucky if Kelsey sticks around until the end of March .”

Making it to July seemed increasingly impossible, especially if I really did have waning syndrome.

“We could get fried chicken,” Cal mused, “or maybe ramen would be better considering the weather…”

Pressing a kiss against his chest, I closed my eyes and drifted off, content in the knowledge that by the time I woke up, Cal would have procured enough food for four people.

Once he was refueled, I should have no problem convincing him to fuck me again.

If he didn’t want to give roleplaying a shot, maybe he’d agree to do it against the window…

Joaquin would do both.

Ignoring that intrusive thought, I decided we could eat in bed and pick up right where we left off.

Anything other than having to message Chantal.