Page 31 of Unbonded
“You didn’t ruin anything.” As we settle on the leather seats, he scoots closer to me, and I catch a sharp edge to his scent, like scorched wood. “I had harsh words with Richard. It was best we let things cool off and meet again another day.”
I try to imagine Corbus having harsh words with anyone, let alone the aloof Head Designer of House of Omega. Richard Rose is famous for his reserved demeanor, and Corbus isn’t exactly a bottle of sass, either.
But despite my curiosity, I’m too strung out to push for more details, and we lapse into an uneasy silence. Not that itfeelslike silence, the way the tension crackles between us. I hold my tongue until we pull up outside the Paragon offices, but I grab his arm before he can slide out of the car. “You don’t have to do this. If I make you uncomfortable, we don’t have to pretend.”
He frowns, but there’s more bewilderment than anger in his eyes. “I’m not pretending.”
Ouch. I guess that means our connection really is one sided. “Okay, but you’re obviously upset. If I embarrassed you back at that meeting…”
He growls, and the next moment his hands are at my throat. A flash of fear freezes me in place until I realize his anger is directed at the scarf, his elegant fingers fumbling with Grace’s bow. He mutters something under his breath in Flemish and then switches quickly to sharp-edged English. “You don’t make me embarrassed or uncomfortable, but this makes me very, very upset.”
“I can see that,” I murmur, holding still as he picks furiously at the knot. “But if you keep tugging on it, you’re just going to tighten it.”
“I should just rip the thing,” he growls, but thankfully the silk suddenly gives way in his hands. “I can’t stand his scent on you another moment longer.”
I freeze, staring into his face, which is less than a foot from my own. “What?”
There’s a violent slash of red on each of his high cheekbones, and his nostrils flare as he finally pulls the scarf free. I watch, speechless, as he jams the delicate silk into the pocket of his jacket and gives me a look that’s simmering with heat. “Orange blossoms are my favorite scent, Kate. But not when it smells like another alpha has had his hands all over you.”
“No one touched me, Corbus.” I reach out, but he jerks back, and we stare at each other in silence. “I was in the bathroom. Grace came in and offered it to me…”
“I know. I just…” He’s suddenly reaching for the car door, his startled driver taking a step back as he almost catapults onto the pavement. I watch as he looks around, like he’s not sure where he is.
“Corbus?”
I stare at his back as he clenches his fists, then slowly releases them. “Excuse me, Kate. I must see to some things before my next meeting.”
CHAPTER TEN - KATE
I don’t know how long I sit in the car, my fingers pressed to the racing pulse under my scent gland. Corbus has already disappeared inside the Paragon office, and the driver is standing at the open door, a mildly shocked look on his face. He’s an older alpha, and while built on epic proportions, has a gentle aura about him as he peers in at me. “I’m Hector, Ms. Valentine. Would you like me to show you inside? I’m sure Mr. Janssen will be waiting for you.”
Hector sounds hopeful, but I’m less convinced. It seems that despite Corbus’ impeccable manners, he’s abandoned me on the sidewalk because I smell like another alpha.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, grabbing my purse and sliding out of the car. “I have a doctor’s appointment I need to get to.”
It’s a lie, but now that the shock of Corbus’ abrupt departure is wearing off, I realize I’m feeling kind of nauseous. My hands are clammy, and there’s a tightness in my temples that promises an unhappy afternoon ahead. My own fault, since I delayed filling Dr. Green’s prescription until my next paycheck, but I’ll worry about chastising myself later.
“Then let me drive you,” Hector says quickly, his browfurrowed as he takes in my pale face. “Mr. Webber told me to be on call for you, whatever you need.”
I force a smile, although there’s a tiny flutter in my chest at Bram’s thoughtfulness. The way I’m feeling, I’d probably need to grab a cab, which would put a substantial crater in my last usable credit card. “Do you know the Green Fields clinic?”
“I’m sure we can find it,” Hector replies with obvious relief. “Hop in and we’ll fire up the GPS.”
The only reason I remember the name of the fancy uptown clinic is because Dr. Green told me her partner’s name is Dr. Fields, and that his specialty is alpha ruts. I’m pretty sure I’ll need an appointment to get in, but maybe she can spare me a few moments in the waiting room. Just long enough for Dr. Green to tell me if this is the flu or the start of Ground Zero.
I shiver at the thought, swallowing around a rising wave of nausea. I would hate to puke in the back of Hector’s nice car, and I give a sigh of relief when he pulls up to the curb a couple of minutes later. The clinic is in a polished, pre-war building with a brass sign on the wall and pots of prickly looking palms on either side of the door. “This is the place,” Hector informs me. “I’ll do a few loops around the block while I wait.”
“No need,” I reply, opening the door with a trembling hand. “There’s probably going to be a bit of a wait, and then I’ll catch a cab straight back when I’m done.”
His brow furrows again, but he doesn’t argue with me. “If you’re sure, Ms. Valentine. Here, take my card just in case. Like I said, I’m available whenever you need.”
I give him an appreciative smile, pocketing his card and trying to keep my knees from buckling as I head into the fancy clinic. It opens into a spacious room with a marble floor and a long mahogany reception desk, piano music playing from hidden speakers. There are no visitor chairs for me to collapse into, and while the scent of antiseptic hangs heavily in the air, so too doesthe stench of angry alpha. It’s so strong, I have to force my feet to cross to the desk, my nose wrinkling at the assault.
“I’m sorry,” the receptionist says when I stutter out my request to see Dr Green. “She’s at a conference in Chicago. Would you like to make an appointment for next week?”
“No, it can’t wait.” And neither can I, given the way I’m reacting to the alpha scent in the air. “Is Dr. Fields available, by any chance?”
“He isn’t taking new clients, I’m afraid. I could put you on the waitlist, but he works almost exclusively with alphas.” She looks at the unbonding scar on my throat and frowns. “I could ring around and see if one of the omega treatment clinics has a free slot?”
