Page 6 of Examining the Bond

My phone rings, and I consider ignoring it until I look down and realize it’s the Buchanan Center. They don’t typically call when I’m off work, especially when Dr. Song—the other designation specialist—is working. Sweat pours down my face as I hit pause on the treadmill and swipe a finger across my phone screen to answer it.

I expect to hear the receptionist or a nurse on the other end of the line, but it’s Dr. Song himself, sounding frazzled. “I’m sorry to bother you, Dr. Morales, but is there any way you could come in and cover my shift? Lucy just went into labor with the twins, and I’m trying to get there as fast as I can.”

My annoyance evaporates. Lucy, his omega, has been on bedrest for a couple of weeks due to complications, and it was only a matter of time before Dr. Song would need to take hispaternity leave. I’m not exactly surprised, but we were hoping she’d hold out a little longer.

“Is Dr. Martin still out of the country?” I ask, wondering if our part-time specialist would be able to go instead.

“Until next Wednesday.”

Fuck.That’s obviously out of the question.

“If you can't, I’ll have Gwin reschedule today’s appointments,” Dr. Song says, but I can hear the hesitation in his voice. “I know you probably have plans today.”

Plans? Yes. I want to enjoy my only day off this week and get in an extra workout. But it’s nothing that can’t be postponed or moved around, especially considering the circumstances.

I hate the thought of rescheduling appointments—especially on such short notice. Some of our patients wait weeks to be seen, and they come from all over the country. That’s why we partnered with the hotel next door, so they’d have somewhere convenient to stay.

No, postponing them is also out of the question.

“Don’t do that. I’ll come in,” I assure him, checking the time on my phone. “I can be there by nine.” That gives me an hour to get to the clinic. I’m sure our patients would rather their appointments start a little late than have to come back another day.

“You don’t know how much I appreciate it, Dr. Morales.” His tone is a mixture of excitement and relief. “Also… we have a peculiar case this morning. Do you have a minute?”

Peculiar cases aren’t uncommon at the research center—more like part of the job description—but if Dr. Song thinks it’s worth mentioning, it must be pretty wild. I head for the shelf in the corner and snatch up my water bottle, bracing myself for absurdity.

“Yeah, I’m free.” I squirt water into my mouth and swallow. “Whatcha got?”

“An undetermined female is flying in this morning from Georgia,” he says. “She was tested by a heat specialist, and they’re faxing her records.”

“What do you mean,undetermined?” I pause, my interest piqued. I rack my brain for possible explanations, but I’m drawing a blank. Clearly my head is still in gym-mode. “Like the tests came back inconclusive?”

“Still waiting on the records to be sent, but I spoke with the specialist on the phone this morning. He said they couldn’t identify any alpha or omega genetic markers, yet she displays characteristics of both.”

I cock my head, watching my reflection in the wall-length mirror as sweat pours down my temples. “Interesting.”

There could be a few different explanations for why a beta would display varying alpha or omega characteristics, but there’s no way to know for certain until I get my hands on the test results. It could be something super simple, like a hormone imbalance, but I doubt someone would fly across the country looking for answers if it was that easy.

I definitely want to get on this case.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” I say. “And congrats.”

Once I hang up, I debate finishing my workout, but decide against it—those skull crushers earlier were no joke. Instead, I snatch a towel off a neatly-folded stack and drag it over my face. If I have time on my lunch break, maybe I’ll get in some lunges, but I’m pleased with the reps I got in already.

Before heading upstairs to bathe, I pause in front of the long mirror that reflects every inch of my home gym and check my physique, turning this way and that to admire my progress. Since renovating the basement and installing all the workout equipment a year ago, I’ve come a long way. My sports bra and spandex shorts display a clear view of all my hard work and dedication.

I flex, watching my muscles ripple. Everything is coming along nicely, but it’ll be a few more months before I get to where I want to be. Will I stop then? Probably not, but it’s nice to have a starting goal.

Satisfied, I head upstairs and jump in the shower, scrubbing the salty sweat from every inch of my body. I dress in dark navy slacks and a pale blue button-up that pops against my tan skin but forgo my usual tie. Even though it's only the middle of the week, I'm feeling casual. I’m ready for the weekend.

I smirk at the thought.

Years ago, I used to party hard on the weekends, hitting every nightclub in Boston, staying out until the wee hours of the morning. I was always cautiously optimistic that I would stumble upon a mate if I put myself out there enough.

But that never happened…

After years of searching, I had nothing to show for it, and I gradually lost hope.

Sure, I’d been interested in some omegas but, for whatever reason, none of them ever worked out. More often than not, it was because I’m a female alpha, one of the rarest designations in the world, and they preferred pack life or real knots to what I could give them.