Page 1 of Examining the Bond

CHAPTER ONE

RIANN

“Run the test again.”

A lump forms in my throat before I’ve even fully processed the doctor’s words, and the sinking feeling in my stomach threatens to drag me through the floor.

“That can't be right. Run it again,please.” I hate the wobble in my voice.

Neither of the previous doctors I saw could figure out what’s wrong with me, so I wasn’t optimistic when I arrived to see this heat specialist today. The past two letdowns left me clinging to a shred of hope that I would get answers, but this… this is worse than anything I could have imagined.

Not an omega?

That can’t be possible…

The white walls of the tiny exam room feel like they’re closing in as the man in a lab coat blinks at me over his clipboard. Ican’t breathe. Time slows to a stop, marked only by the intense pounding of blood in my ears.

No, no, no.

Nothing makes sense.

I expected some kind of wonky test results, maybe a hormone imbalance or a vitamin deficiency—possibly even a neurological disorder or developmental delay. Literallyanythingto explain why I exhibit some, but not all, of the textbook omega characteristics. Why I'm mostly unaffected by scents, like a beta. Why—instead of a heat last month—I had the feral, violent urges of an alpha rut.

Trying and failing not to panic, I tuck a strand of long red hair behind my ear with trembling fingers. The baggy sweater I chose this morning suddenly becomes a horrible choice as anxiety floods my system, and the temperature in the exam room skyrockets, making me sweat.

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” I mumble, barely registering that I’ve spoken.

Head swimming, I grip the edge of the exam table to ground myself, and play through the events that led me here like a bad dream.

My entire life, I was raised knowing there was a high probability I would be an omega. Before I even showed any signs, my parents did early genetic testing—which isn't always reliable until puberty—and showered me with all the things an omega could want: blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, pretty, shiny things. They were thrilled and hardly surprised when I perfumed on my eighteenth birthday.

I was an omega, just like my mother, but they didn’t make it to see me enroll at the Woodside Omega Academy. They both died in a boating incident right before my first semester began.

I did everything I could to make them proud. I studied hard, excelled in my classes, did what I was told… but somethingwasn’t adding up. By the beginning of my third semester, my professors grew suspicious. They wanted answers; they wanted proof of my designation.

Three doctor’s visits later, and I’m here, at the Huntsville Heat Clinic, to be examined.To be tested.

Never in a million years did I expect to find out that I'm?—

“Not an omega,” he repeats the test results aloud, cutting off my frantic train of thought. He shrugs and shakes his head, flipping through the few pieces of paper attached to his clipboard. “The results are correct. Your blood lacks the chemical compound that would mark you as an omega. I'm sorry if this comes as a shock, Miss Saunders.”

Shock is an understatement. It's like I've been electrocuted, my nervous system absolutely fried by the information. My stomach sours, bile burning the back of my throat, and I stare at the harsh white tiles beneath my feet.

“But I perfumed,” I say in disbelief, my voice sounding small. “I had my first heat.”

What the hell is happening?

I was supposed to come here and find a way to sort out myuniquesituation. A bottle of pills, a few shots, and I should have been good as new…

My brain spirals as I consider the implications of the results. If I'm not an omega, I'll be kicked out of the academy. I’ll have to leave everything I know, my entire life, and start over from scratchagain. With nowhere to go—not even a distant relative who could take me in—I’ll have to find a place to live and search for a mundane job.

Will the academy let me stay until I find somewhere to go?

Or will they boot me out the door the second they get the results?

I swallow hard and wipe my sweaty palms on my leggings. The promise of being bonded into a pack and treasured like aprecious omega goes up in smoke. Every dream I’ve ever had of moving into a pack mansion, of having babies and growing old with my mates, evaporates.

I have no idea where to go from here as my reality lies shattered on the ground at my feet.