Page 17 of Omega's Fever

“I need suppressants.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Strong ones. Military grade if you have them.”

“Slow down. What happened?”

“I had a scent match, maybe more. At the courthouse. I can’t... I need something to block it.”

He sighs. “Milo, you know suppressants that strong aren’t meant for long-term use. We’re talking serious side effects. Nausea, headaches, potential fertility impacts...”

“I don’t care. I need them.”

“Have you considered just... talking to this alpha? Scent matches happen for a reason.”

“He’s facing twenty to life for human trafficking. So no, talking isn’t really an option. And the Bureau lady said she thought it might be a prime match. I can’t do this.”

“Wow.” I hear his keyboard clicking on his end as he begins typing up my prescription. “Okay. I can prescribe a six-week course. That’s it. If you need more, we’re having a different conversation.”

“That’s fine.” It has to be. The trial will be over by then, Kellen will have taken his plea bargain. He’ll be safely locked away in prison, and I can pretend this never happened.

“I’m sending it to your usual pharmacy. Milo? Be careful with these. The side effects are no joke.”

“I understand.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m standing in line at the pharmacy, trying to look invisible. The woman ahead of me is arguing about her insurance coverage. Behind me, a mother wrestles with a toddler who wants to touch everything.

“Next!”

I step up to the counter. The pharmacist, a beta woman in her fifties, types my name into her computer. Her eyebrows rise.

“These are serious suppressants.” She says it loud enough for the entire store to hear. “When was your last heat, Mr. Warren?”

My face burns. “Three weeks ago.”

“Current medications?”

“None.”

“Have you used suppressants of this caliber before?”

“No.”

She peers at me over her glasses. “These are typically reserved for military personnel and emergency workers. Why do you need them?”

None of your fucking business.

“It’s legitimate. My doctor has prescribed them. Please, can we just...”

“One moment.” She picks up the phone, presumably calling Dr. Garrett’s office. I stand there, feeling the weight of the stares from the other customers.

“Alright.” The pharmacist hangs up. “I need to go over the side effects with you. Nausea, vomiting, headaches, dizziness, potential loss of consciousness if combined with alcohol. Absolutely no operating heavy machinery for the first forty-eight hours. Some users report temporary scent blindness. In rare cases, organ damage...”

She drones on while I die inside. By the time she finally hands me the white paper bag, I’m ready to crawl under the nearest rock.

“Take two every six hours with food. Do not exceed the recommended dose. Do not take them with alcohol. If you experience any severe side effects...”

“Thank you.” I snatch the bag and flee.

I dry-swallow a couple immediately the moment that I getback to the car, ignoring the bitter taste as they lodge in my throat.

My phone buzzes. A text from Kao: Anne says you have homework. She emailed you the full case file for your hot alpha. She also wants you to write up the notes from the Pemberton meeting yesterday and send it to her.