Page 20

" H oly shit, this can't be right."

I stare at the test results on my screen, blinking hard to make sure I'm not hallucinating from lack of sleep. The genetic markers are unmistakable. All four of them—Evan, Leo, Onyx, and Axl—show perfect compatibility with my Omega DNA.

"Let's rerun it," I mutter to myself, fingers flying across the keyboard to reset the analysis parameters.

Three minutes later, the same results flash across my screen. I slump back in my chair, running both hands through my already wild curls.

"Fucking impossible."

But there it is - black and white. Four Alphas, all genetically compatible with one Omega. Me.

In the shifter world, compatibility like this is rare. Finding one perfect Alpha match is uncommon enough. Two is practically unheard of. But four? It's like winning the lottery while being struck by lightning during a solar eclipse.

My phone buzzes, vibrating across the metal lab table. I glance at the screen and see Emily's face lighting up the display.

"Hey, Em," I answer, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Don't 'hey Em' me!" she exclaims. "It's been days! I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere! Or worse, bored in some corporate lab without me!"

I laugh despite myself. "Sorry, things have been... complicated."

"Complicated how? The last time I saw you was after the rock concert with Detective Hottie, then you disappeared into thin air. I've been texting you for days!"

I glance at my phone and see seventeen unread messages from her. Oops.

"I'm really sorry," I say. "I've been dealing with some... changes."

"Life changes? What, did you join a cult? Get abducted by aliens? Start a new career as a professional snake charmer?"

"Not exactly," I hesitate, then decide to hell with it. Emily's my best friend, and I need to talk to someone who isn't an Alpha with a vested interest in my pants.

I take a deep breath. "If I tell you, you have to promise not to freak out."

"That's impossible. You know I'm genetically predisposed to freaking out."

"Em, I'm serious."

Something in my voice must tip her off because her tone shifts immediately. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Remember when I told you something weird was happening to my body?"

"The uncontrollable horniness? Hard to forget."

"Well, it turns out I'm an Omega."

Silence stretches between us for three beats.

"A what now?" Emily finally asks.

"An Omega. As in Alpha-Beta-Omega dynamics. As in, I'm a shifter, or at least part shifter, and I've been dormant my whole life until recently."

"Holy fucking shit," she breathes. "Are you serious? You're a shifter? Like, grow-fur-and-howl-at-the-moon shifter?"

"I don't think I can fully shift," I explain. "But I'm apparently a rare type that's super compatible with Alphas."

"Alphas... like multiple men?"

I swallow hard. "Yes."

"Wait." I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head. "How many hot men are we talking about exactly?"

"Four," I admit as my face heats up.

Emily's shriek is so loud that I must hold the phone away from my ear.

"FOUR? FOUR MEN? FOUR FUCKING ALPHAS?"

"Could you say that louder? I don't think they heard you in Antarctica."

"Dahlia Baldwin, you sneaky bitch! I thought you were working on virus research, not auditioning for 'The Bachelorette: Supernatural Edition'!"

I can't help but laugh. "It wasn't exactly planned."

"Details. Now. I want every single dirty detail."

"I don't even know where to start."

"Start with who's the best in bed," Emily suggests immediately.

"Em!"

"What? It's a perfectly valid scientific inquiry. You're all about data collection, right?"

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me. "They're all... different."

"Different how? Like different positions? Different sizes? Different techniques?"

"Yes, to all of the above," I mutter, feeling my cheeks burn hotter.

"Oh my god," Emily gasps. "You've slept with all of them, haven't you? My little scientist is a total sex goddess!"

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Four hot guys would disagree," she counters. "So, which one has the biggest…"

"I am not discussing penis sizes with you!"

"Fine, fine. But at least tell me who made you come the hardest."

I close my eyes, remembering each encounter. "They all have their... strengths."

"That's a diplomatic answer. Very political. I hate it," Emily declares. "Give me something juicy!"

"Onyx is very... primal," I admit, lowering my voice even though I'm alone. "Leo is surprisingly gentle despite looking like he could bench press a car. Axl is creative, and Evan is... intense."

"Intense how? Like Christian Grey intense or serial killer intense?"

"Neither! Just... focused. Like everything he does with maximum effort and precision."

"Sounds exhausting," Emily remarks.

"In the best possible way," I find myself saying before I can stop the words.

Emily's cackle makes me wince. "Look at you! All flustered and horny just thinking about it!"

"I am not horny," I lie.

"Your voice goes up half an octave when you're turned on. It's doing it right now."

"Can we please talk about something else?" I beg, swiveling back to my computer screen.

"Fine, but this conversation isn't over. So, what are you working on that's so important you've ghosted your bestie?"

I sigh with relief at the change of subject. "The Crimson Plague. It's a virus that's killing shifters."

"That sounds serious."

"It is. And now the government is using it as an excuse to round up all shifters for 'containment,'"

"Shit, that's like Nazi Germany level bad."

"Exactly. So, I'm trying to find a cure before things get worse."

"And your four boyfriends? Where do they fit in?"

"They're not my boyfriends," I protest.

"What would you call them then?"

I pause, considering. "It's complicated."

"That's Facebook relationship status language," Emily scoffs. "Be specific."

"I don't know what they are," I admit. "But I need all of them."

"Need them for what? The cure or your vagina?"

"Emily!" I sputter, nearly dropping my phone.

"What? It's a valid question!"

"Both, okay? I need them for both," I confess, "And I just found out they're all genetically compatible with me. All four of them. Which is supposed to be impossible."

"Wait, like soulmates? You have four soulmates?"

"Something like that. It's more biological than spiritual. Their DNA matches mine in a way that creates perfect hormonal balance."

"So, your body literally craves all of them?" Emily sounds fascinated now.

"Yes. And they're all drawn to me too. It's making things... intense."

"I bet. Four alphas all wanting the same omega? That's like the setup for either the hottest porn ever or a murder spree."

"Thanks for that mental image," I mutter, reaching for a fresh slide to prepare another sample.

"So, what happens now? Do you pick one? Take turns? Set up a rotation schedule?"

I nearly drop the petri dish I'm holding. "I don't know! This isn't exactly covered in dating advice columns."

"You could write one when this is all over. 'How to Manage Your Harem of Hot Supernatural Men' by Dr. Dahlia Baldwin."

I throw my head back and laugh. "You're ridiculous."

"But you love me," Emily sings. "And admit it, I'm asking the questions you're too scared to ask yourself."

She's right, but I'm not about to tell her that. "I need to focus on finding the cure first. Everything else is secondary."

"Even mind-blowing sex with four different guys?"

"Even that," I say firmly, though my body strongly disagrees.

"You're a stronger woman than I am," Emily sighs dramatically. "So, how's the cure coming along?"

"Slowly. I thought I was onto something, so I isolated the virus structure, but I'm still missing it. The virus attacks the cells that control shifting, causing unpredictable transformations that eventually tear the body apart."

"That sounds horrific."

"It is," I confirm, picking up a new slide with a blood sample from Mara. "I'm testing different compounds to see if anything neutralizes it."

As I speak, I reach for another vial, but my elbow knocks over a small container. Before I can react, it spills across my workstation, some of the liquid splashing onto my bare forearm.

"Shit!" I jump back, staring in horror at my skin.

"What? What happened?" Emily asks, alarmed.

"I just spilled... fuck, I just spilled active virus on myself," I whisper, panic rising in my chest.

"What? Dahlia, what does that mean?"

"It means I might get infected," I say, already rushing to the decontamination shower in the corner of the lab. "I have to go. I'll call you back."

I hang up before she can respond, stripping off my lab coat and shirt as I hit the emergency shower button. Cold water pours down, washing away the virus… I hope. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat.

Five minutes later, dripping wet and wrapped in a lab emergency blanket, I stare at my arm under a magnifying glass. No signs of infection yet, but the virus can take hours to manifest.

With shaking hands, I draw my own blood, preparing slides to check for infection. If I'm infected, I have maybe 48 hours before the symptoms start, before my body begins tearing apart. But I'm not a shifter, so how will the virus play out in my own body?

I run every test I can think of, checking and double-checking the results. Hours pass as I wait for the virus to appear in my bloodstream, for the first signs of cellular degradation.

Nothing.

I frown, peering at the slides again. My blood looks completely normal. No viral particles, no cell damage, nothing.

"That's not possible," I mutter, preparing another sample.

The results come back the same. My blood shows no signs of infection.

On a hunch, I take a sample of Mara's infected blood and mix it with mine in a petri dish. Under the microscope, I watch in amazement as something in my blood attacks the virus, neutralizing it completely.

"Holy shit," I breathe, watching the viral particles disintegrate on contact with my blood.

I rerun the test. And again. Each time, the results are the same. My blood kills the virus on contact.

My phone rings, and I answer without looking, my eyes still fixed on the microscope.

"Dahlia? Are you okay?" Emily's voice is frantic. "It's been three hours!"

"I'm immune," I whisper, stunned.

"What?"

"The virus. I spilled it on myself, but I'm not infected. My blood actually destroys it."

"Is that... normal?"

I laugh, and it sounds slightly hysterical. "Nothing about this is normal, Em. But I think..." I pause, watching as another batch of virus particles dissolves in my blood sample. "I think I just found the cure."