Page 47 of The Rejected Omega

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. To be frank, I already suspected as much, given your lab results.”

I freeze. “What?”

“Your hormone and pheromone levels aren’t consistent with an omega that has undergone heat recently. And they’ve remained so the entire time you’ve been in my care.”

I gape at her. “You knew?”

“I suspected.”

“But you never said.”

“I cannot control what my patients do in their private lives. I warned you of the risks. I assumed you were operating within that knowledge.”

Connor is gripping the arm of his chair like it owes him money.

“Are you serious?” he growls. “You knew and did nothing?”

Kanata sighs. “You are still in school, Mr. Masters, so I don’t expect you to know this yet. But in my experience, forbidding a patient from doing something does little good. I’m her doctor, not her parent or her priest. I discussed the risks of black market drug use and prolonged heat abstinence with Ms. Crane regularly.”

“So you handed her a fucking pamphlet and sent her on her way.”

Connor’s pheromones start to clog the room. I try not to breathe through my nose.

“Calm yourself, alpha, or you will be asked to leave.”

“I ought to report you to the board, Kanata. This is highly unethical?—”

“You’re welcome to, Mr. Masters. I’m sure whatever medical schools you apply to will love to see that on your background check. But first, dotryand understand that a patient using black market suppressants and continuing to see their doctor is better than one shamed or chastised into not coming, but continuing to abuse. The version where I can keep tabs on yourfriend’shealth is the preferable outcome, don’t you agree?”

Connor’s jaw chews.

Someone knocks on the door and enters to hand Dr. Kanata a printout, and I silently applaud her timing.

“Your labs,” Dr. Kanata says. “How long since you’ve used, Alanna?”

“A week or so. And I finished my prescription yesterday.”

“And she will not be getting more,” Connor says.

Dr. Kanata scans the page, then flips to the next.

“At this point, a heat is inevitable. Your blood already has all the markers that signify the process has begun. To attempt to stop it now would be futile, and likely just make the ordeal more painful for you. As always, my clinic has connections with several reputable heat centers. They are professional and discrete.”

“I’ve heard they’re sedating omegas who request it now,” I say.

Connor scoffs.

“An experimental technique. And not one I can refer you for, I’m afraid. Your heat will be too unpredictable to qualify for that kind of treatment, this time.”

“You need to cancel her prescription. She’s abusing?—”

“Mr. Masters, I know you care for Alanna, but I’ll thank you not to tell me what I need to do with my patient.”

“How long do I have?” I ask.

“I can’t say exactly, but certainly before the month is out.”

“And my prescription?”

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