Page 22 of The Gift
“Has Carmen sent through the forms?” He asks, his voice breaking the rising tension and echoing through the room.
“Let me check. Don’t you think it’s overkill?” I ask, logging onto the computer.
“Not in the world we live in. Put yourself in her shoes. At least now, since she can’t speak for herself she has loud advocates that want the best for her. Her colleagues understand her better than we could, anyway.”
“True.”
I check the pack emails again, and triple check that Carmen has given Reno the consent he’s after.
“The form has arrived. All dated, initialled and nothing crossed off. You’re good to go,” I update him, talking over my shoulder while I copy over the attachments to her file, adding the signed forms from Exposé Media before I turn around to see if I can help.
Reno’s in his own world, a couple of vials of blood already on the counter ready for analysis. He’s inserting an IV line, for a saline drip by the looks, or it might be one of his nutrient bags, but I don’t question him.
Once he’s finished, he flicks his head for me to leave, pulling the door out from behind her.
“I’ll grab her bag and her shoes, put them on her bed where she can see them. I can sit in with her if you like. She’ll probably remember me picking her up, and hopefully that will help.” I offer, feeling a bit useless really, but next to Reno all of us are when it comes to first aid and medical attention.
“Yeah, good idea.”
“What are your thoughts?”
“I think she’s been poisoned. I did a swab and she’s showing high concentration of co-codaprin which isn’t consistent with pain, or fever medication. Unless she’s buying off the black market, which I hope she isn’t doing. Anyway, I’ve loaded her drip with medication to counter the toxic levels. My guess is that within the next few hours she’ll wake up. Groggy as all hell. It would be good to get one of her colleagues here before then if we can. She’d scream blue murder if she woke up and the first thing she saw was you.” Reno looks at me, his face devoid of humour but it’s hidden in his words and posture.
I flick him the bird and leave him going to fetch her bag like I said I would. Restlessness and anxiety making it hard to stand or wait around.
The first hour flashes past, in between phone calls and grabbing something to eat. The second, Carmen arrives in an absolute flap, and by the third, much like our resident doctor promised, she starts to move restlessly in her sleep.
Knocking quietly on the door, Carmen opens it after a few seconds, not pulling the door wide open, not inviting me in.
“How is she?” I ask softly. It’d be nice to see her with my own eyes but I get the way they’re keeping the door closed on us.
Carmen shrugs, her usually loud and a little grating persona is replaced by a quieter version, much like what is needed though.
“I can drop you both off whenever you’re ready. She knows we’re not locking her up here, right?” I whisper.
“Yeah. I think she’s pretty keen to get going soon. She’s dozing again.”
“Make sure she knows she can also stay. You too. We’re not kicking either of you out. My office is literally next door, so when you’re ready call me.”
“I will. Thanks.” She goes to shut the door, and calls out, “Hey, Koda, are there any spare jumpers or jackets lying around? She’s saying she can’t get warm.”
I’m off even before she finishes asking. And then I’m back, my arms loaded with a selection from our closet. When Bailey shuffles out forty-five minutes later, layered up, wearing a little piece of all of us, like she’s going to play in the snow I don’t say a word, I don’t even show the world the smile on my happy face. Possessive asshole that I am. Now is clearly not the time to be enjoying her wearing my clothes, but I fucking do.
“Hey,” Bailey stammers awkwardly as she moves past my hovering in the hallway, “thank you. Thanks for getting Carmen. Thanks for getting me help when you did too. She gave me a run down.”
I wave her off, her discomfort is as easy to see as my blue hoodie she’s wearing. But of course, that’s not enough, I have to smell it too. But I lock down almost all my emotions and definitely don’t react on my face. She’d be mortified if she knew I could smell the regret souring her usually barely there fruity perfume.
A lot of people have issues with an alphas’ scenting ability. It’s a two-pronged thing really, we can and do smell a lot, but we can also leave our own individual and very distinctive smells on a person. Generally, it’s a good indicator of interest, and in certain situations our pheromones skit out and can plume a room making it resemble Macy’s perfume counter. When we find a compatible scent match and it’s reciprocated, it’s one of those dangerous times that Ash spoke about.
I guess over the years, like everything to do with our genetics, that too has changed. Reno has researched it, He’s not the only person to, but he’s generally in agreement that as opportunities to find a perfect omega have declined, an alpha’s ability to scent out a potential mate have escalated. Almost like a karmic scale adjusting themselves. But the kicker is, it only happens when the scent is damn near Hollywood romance perfect. Some alphas can walk past, even sit across an omega and not have a clue.
Instinctively, it’s a hard thing to not trail your nose along an attractive woman’s throat, acceptable behaviour though means you don’t. Unless you’re in the throes of passionate monkey sex, but by that point you know.
Right now, even though I do, I don’t need to scent her. I can plainly see Bailey’s discomfort, and that rushes me into gear.
“You want a hand out to the car? You were pretty out of it when you arrived. Carmen, can I help?”
Carmen pokes her head out, holding her keys up, along with all of Bailey’s belongings.
