Page 4

Chapter 4

Miller

As I walk toward the receptionist station to get a coffee and find out who is my next patient, a flash of copper hair catches my eye as a pregnant woman waddles through the emergency entrance.

It’s strange, but the antiseptic hospital smell fades as something else hits my nostrils. Strawberries? It’s just berries and although the scent is intoxicating, making my head spin, there’s a strange undercurrent to it that causes my teeth to grate and my cock to stir.

I grip the nurses’ station counter to steady myself.

My eyes narrow as the smell nears and so does the pregnant woman with the copper-colored hair. There’s something about her that seems familiar, or is it her scent? But before I can place her, Mrs.—no, Miss—Elizabeth McAllister blocks my view.

“Dr. Astor!” She beams, clutching her purse. “I was hoping you’d be here today. I had to see a different doctor the last time I came.”

Damn!

The last time, I caught her name on my schedule much earlier than today. She’s here every week with increasingly creative complaints, but we both know what she really wants.

And I don’t fuck my patients.

“Let me check the schedule.” I turn to Geri at reception, trying to peer around Miss McAllister’s shoulder at the copper-haired woman. “Who’s next?”

“Elizabeth McAllister in room fourteen,” Geri says, sliding a chart across the counter.

I groan as the pregnant woman sinks into a wheelchair, arguing with her dark-haired friend. “This is ridiculous. I’ve been on my feet all day. I can walk fine.”

Her voice carries across the waiting room, making me smile. That stubborn independence reminds me of my pack mate Zane. Nobody can help him either.

Miss McAllister clears her throat.

“This way.” I gesture her away from the counter and lead her down the corridor, but not before stealing one last glance at the copper-haired woman and hope I get to see her again. I’m not put off by her protesting as her friend wheels her toward triage.

“Miss McAllister.” I close the exam room door. “What seems to be the problem today?”

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.”

I step back, maintaining professional distance. “I don't frequent Club Midnight, Miss McAllister.”

Her red lips curve into a smile that makes me uneasy. “But you're not denying I could take your knot!”

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss McAllister.”

“Thank you, doctor.” She sashays toward the exit, hips swaying, thinking I’m watching. But I’m already returning to the reception desk.

I blow out a breath. “Who’s next?”

Geri shuffles through some papers. “Can you fit Miss Rose into your schedule? She’s usually Dr. Landers’ patient, but he’s full and he asked if you could see her.”

“I don’t have the time,” I tell her, rubbing my temples.

Geri nods toward the copper-haired woman. “I’ve been observing her, and she really is in pain.”

I glance through narrowed eyes at her. She’s leaning back in the wheelchair, staring at the ceiling as she cradles her swollen belly. That strawberry scent wafts over again, making my mouth water.

It’s her.

“And she’s an omega,” Geri adds. “She probably just needs some reassurance.”

I grab the chart. “Put her in examination room three.”

Minutes later, the door swings open, a dark-haired girl wheels her inside the room.

“Hey, Doc. I’m Freya Rose,” she says, holding out her hand to me.

She glows under the fluorescent lights despite the dark circles under her eyes. Her long hair cascades over her shoulders, and that intoxicating scent of strawberries wraps around me like a warm embrace, but something seems off.

She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Is it okay if my friend Harlow stays with me?”

“Of course.” I smile. “Sit down. I’m just reading Dr. Landers’ notes.”

Now she’s closer to me. The strawberry smell is coated in another perfume.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

“Just reading your past complications.” I clear my throat, forcing my focus back to the task at hand. “Miss Rose, when’s your due date?”

She shifts in the chair, glancing at Harlow before answering. “Three weeks and two days.”

“And your pack mates? Where are they?”

“They’re at work.” She gestures toward Harlow. “My friend brought me.”

As she speaks, that strawberry scent dims even more so—like someone turned down the volume on my senses. It’s disorienting and unusual.

Scent blockers. I hold back a growl as I ask, “Can you lie back on the bed, please?”

She shuffles off her seat and stands beside the bed, dropping her hand on the top as her friend takes her free hand and helps her to hop on top.

I take a step closer and place my hand on her baby bump. The moment my palm makes contact, a surge of electricity zips through me, igniting something primal I can’t ignore.

It’s strange because I’ve never felt this with a patient before.

Freya watches me closely, suspicion causes her to knit her brows together as I slow my movements.

“Are you on scent blockers?” I ask, pulling back slightly, waiting for her to lie to me.

But then she nods. “I work in a bakery and have alphas coming in all day and every day. It’s for the best.”

“You need to stop them immediately.” My voice sharpens with urgency. “They could cause the pain. The baby doesn’t like it.”

“The baby?” She blinks at me, surprise flashing across her pretty face.

“Yes.” I don’t want to sound alarmist, but this isn’t normal; I can feel it in my bones.

Her expression shifts from surprise to determination. “You’re saying these blockers could hurt my baby?”

“I can’t say for certain,” I reply carefully, watching her face. “It’s unusual for an omega to be on scent blockers when she is pregnant. They not only block your body from communicating to an alpha, but also, they can stop you from bonding with your child naturally.”

Her eyes round. “They can? No—”

“Yes. The baby needs to smell their mother while in the womb.”

Freya glances at Harlow for support; worry etches into her features as she absorbs my words.

“It’s not just about you anymore,” I add gently. “Stop the blockers and the pain will stop, and then you’ll sail through the rest of your pregnancy.”

A beat of silence stretches between us as she processes what I’ve said—her green eyes darting between mine and Harlow’s.

“I’ll think about it,” she finally says, but I sense doubt lingers beneath her resolve.

Harlow leans forward slightly in her chair. “Freya...”

The tension hangs thick in the air as we wait for Freya’s next move.

When I look at her, there’s a flicker of recognition igniting in my mind. Something about her is familiar, yet I can’t quite place from where.

“Have we met before?” I ask, breaking the silence that hangs between us.

She tilts her head slightly, her green eyes narrowing as if she’s trying to dig into a memory. “Possibly in here,” she replies softly, but there’s something deeper in her tone and the way she looks at me.

“You look familiar.” My voice is low, almost a whisper.

Freya’s lips twist into a tight smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I have a bakery,” she says. “That’s what everyone says, but I’m also easy to forget.”

The hurt behind her voice tugs at something inside me. “I doubt anyone will forget you.”

A moment stretches between us. She glances at Harlow, who looks amused.

Freya swallows, and her gaze softens for just an instant before she blinks it away. “Well,” she starts, shuffling off the exam bed with renewed energy, as if shaking off the moment we just shared. “I’ll stop the scent blockers. It’s only for four weeks, anyway.”

“Wait,” I blurt. “How does your pack feel about you using scent blockers?”

Her expression shifts to wide-eyed and startled, like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

“They’re fine,” she stammers out too quickly, glancing toward Harlow for support. “They know the dangers an omega faces, so it’s part of the territory of working in a customer-oriented role.”

Did I just catch a lie simmering beneath her words? Otherwise, why did her voice tremble?

Something isn’t adding up.

“Freya...” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “You don’t have to hide anything from me. I’m a doctor. We have a doctor-patient confidentiality agreement.”

She meets my gaze again and for a heartbeat; I think she is going to open up, but then she masks it with another forced smile.

“My pack is away on business,” she insists lightly, as if brushing off my concern. “And I’m just concerned they won’t get back in time for the birth.”

“Yeah,” Harlow adds. “She’s been worried sick. You know what the authorities are like if an alpha isn’t present at the birth.”

“Exactly.” Freya rubs her hand over her belly. “I was scared that I was in labor.” She laughs. “Thank god I’m not. Now I know they’ll be back in time. Oh, and I’ll let them know I need to stop taking the scent blockers.”

I nod slowly. “At least that accounts for your strange behavior.”

“Strange?” Harlow laughs. “This is Freya being quite normal.”

“It is not,” Freya insists.

“Yes, it is. In fact, you’re much more subdued than normal. If he saw the real you, he’d think you were more than strange.”

I laugh. But something tells me there’s more to this story. That Harlow is helping her to cover up something that she doesn’t want to let on about.

I accept it for now. She is not my patient. But maybe I’ll have a deeper dive into her medical notes, because I have a nagging feeling about Freya that won’t leave me alone.