Page 20 of The Boss Omega
“What kind of predicament?” I turn away from the sink and wave my hand to get Graham’s attention. I place the phone on the counter and hit speaker so he can hear.
I mouth ‘Saint. Heat clinic. Today.’ Graham blinks.
“They are scent-matched,” the voice on the phone explains.
Graham’s eyes pop. It takes my brain a few seconds longer to process what she just said.
Scent matches are rare. The kind of thing Graham reads about and I’ve never let myself think too hard about. Nearly impossible to find. And Saint had just stumbled upon his? At a heat clinic?
And left?
“Scent matches?” I ask. “Saint and the omega?”
Graham stands, bracing himself against the counter.
“Yes. I know it’s not a guarantee, but—” She hesitates. “I thought his pack should know. In case you are also matches.”
It doesn’t always happen, but sometimes scent matches extend to the entire pack.
Scent-sensitive pack.
Shit.
“We want to meet her,” Graham answers quickly. “Did she ask for us?”
“Not exactly.” Her voice pitches higher. “That’s why I’m calling. Meeting her scent match caused her to go into a heat spike. Unfortunately, she can’t. She’s in a lot of pain right now.”
Graham nods as though he understands. I’m glad someone does because I’m still missing something. I don’t like this.
“I understand. She can’t find relief. I’ve read about this. It happens sometimes when an omega meets her scent match. Being rejected would make everything worse.”
My dazed brain is finally catching up. An extended heat spike can turn dangerous fast. Even I know that.
A low growl escapes my throat. “We’ll be right there.”
I hang up the phone and turn to Graham. He looks so damned hopeful it hurts to look at him.
“I’ve waited so long,” he says more to himself than to me.
A low rumble builds in my chest before I can stop it. Not a warning, just steadiness. Something to anchor him.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I warn.
He nods, eyes bright. “You’re driving.”
Graham
Silas rolls his shoulders a little as he white knuckles the steering wheel. I’ve never seen him so stressed. Me, though? I’m thrilled. We found our omega.
Probably.
Statistically there’s a chance that she isn’t ours, but I have a feeling.
Scientists aren’t supposed to rely on intuition. We’re supposed to be numbers, facts, and data-driven. But instinct has led me to secure three of my four most profitable patents. You learn to trust your gut when things like that start happening.
I push my glasses up and stare out the window.
“Call him again.” Silas stares straight ahead as he drives us toward the clinic.
