Page 62 of Perfectly Naïve
Two hours must pass before I straighten and stretch, sharing a smile with Vicki. So far, there’s more of a reaction than previous batches, and it’s looking promising. Sometimes the nucleoside analogs fail after some time. The viral replication or cell growth can become resistant, and that means we have to go back to the drawing board. Modify the formula and find another compound that will work. But that’s not the case here.
“I really think we have something,” she says, lips tipped up as she studies the screen. “We can finally move to preclinical!”
I nod, a smile cutting across my face as well. The excitement is palpable. The energy in the lab always changes when we get close to a new breakthrough, like everyone senses that victory is within reach. Perfecting the formula for preclinicalswould be the biggest one yet. It would lead to clinical trials—human trials. Successful clinical trials get us that much closer to market. To helping feral omegas come back from the brink of biologically induced insanity.
“I knew if anyone could figure it out, it was you,” I tell Vicki. It’s not flattery. It's a fact. Vicki is world-renowned. One of the smartest people I know. “Are you getting sleep?” With great brainpower comes restlessness. With preclinical trials comes insomnia and almost-obsessive observation.
She scrubs her hands over her face. “As much as I can.” Turning, she gives me a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder. “Enjoy your weekend. We’ll start with the preclinicals on Monday.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if she’ll be working all weekend, but she leaves me in the lab, heading to check on another test. Even if the one I’m observing is close, we won’t stop testing others, not until we know for sure we have a winner.
But for once, something feels right. Like we’ve truly figured it out this time.
For all those omegas who need help, I hope we’re onto something.
Formulas and various calculations tangle in my head, making it ache on the drive to the pack house. Tonight is dinner with Nigel’s pack. I’d cancel, but I feel like I have to go. Guilt replaces the numbers and compounds, causing a headache for an entirely different reason.
Nigel, Emiline, and Theodore have been through so much with Trevor’s passing, and I haven’t even gone to see Emiline or Theodore since coming home. I’ve been too wrapped up in work and Pack Flynn.
Parking outside the pack’s home, I climb out, lips turned down, and make my way to the front door. Hayes opens the door before I can knock.
He takes one look at my face and scowls. “What happened?” he nearly growls. His chest puffs and he glances around, searching for whoever hurt me, but it’s my own brain and carelessness.
“It was a long day,” I say with a sigh. “I need to change, and then we can go?”
He squints at me. “Vixen, you look exhausted. Maybe we should cancel?”
“No,” I say quickly. “Nigel’s pack means everything to me. We have to go.” And I owe them a million apologies.
His features soften at that. “Nigel seems great.”
“He is,” I say, throat thick with emotion.
Hayes tugs me into his arms, squeezing me until his scent covers every inch of me. Slowly, the tears retreat. Sensing me calming, he pulls back and studies my face. “Better?”
I nod. “Better.”
He grins and pulls me into the house. Sawyer, Wilder, and Liam are waiting in the living room. My eyebrows jump as I take them in and glance at Hayes again. They’re all dressed up. Not black-tie dressed up, but their shirts have collars. Their pants are free of wrinkles. Liam’s hair is artfully swept to the side, not a strand out of place. Hayes trimmed his beard. Sawyer is wearing fancy shoes, and Wilder? Wilder is doing his best to look stoic, though the sparkle in his eye kind of kills the vibe.
“See something you like, omega?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “I was only surprised. You guys look great.”
Liam smirks. “We clean up well.”
Sawyer comes over to me, dropping his arm over my shoulders and leading me to one of the bedrooms in the back. “Iknow you had a dress, but we went ahead and bought a few other options.”
My heart skips. They bought me outfits? Because they wanted to? “You didn’t need to do that,” I murmur.
Sawyer nods. “We know, but we like to give gifts to our omega.”
Our omega. There it is again. Those two words carry so much meaning. We’re courting, but I think I can safely say we’re racing toward mating. The guys are all displaying clear markers of falling in love. I am as well. This relationship isn’t a scientific study anymore, but I can’t help making the connections. It’s how my brain works, and it’s telling me we’re a near-perfect match.
I step into the bedroom, cheeks warm and eyes wide. The dresses are...gorgeous. The only other person who has bought me dresses is my mother, and she’s never understood my style. Her choices were too short. Too revealing. Too fluffy or ruffly. Too bright. These, though? They’re understated. Pretty, but noteveryone look at meloud.
“How’d we do?” he asks.
Amazing.You guys know me better than the woman who gave birth to me. You understand me. You see me for who I am and adore me.
