Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-Nine

O wen

There are 789 unread emails in my hospital inbox.

I’m away from the clinic for five days and I have 789 emails.

522 have been marked urgent by the clinic secretary.

So far I have read eight.

I sigh, rub my forehead and open the next one, groaning when the computer screen fills with solid text.

Luckily, I’m saved by the bell. The doorbell.

“I’ll get it,” I shout out to the others, jumping to my feet and striding down the hallway.

I open the door and do a double take.

Harper is standing on the doorstep like she’s just been delivered there by an angel. It’s been four hours since she left. She has a wide grin on her face and a massive box in her arms.

“Back again so soon?” I lean against the doorframe, admiring how incredible the omega looks. I’m easily falling in love with her all over again.

“Shhh.” She peers over her shoulder, even though the nearest neighbor is a fair distance away. “You haven’t seen me for a while, remember,” she whispers. Then adds loudly: “I come bearing cakes. From my mom. She wanted me to check in on you, seeing as how you have been unwell.”

“How lovely,” I say, projecting my voice in an exaggerated manner while winking at her. “Do come in.” I point inside.

Once she’s inside the house and the door is closed, I pin her against the wall and kiss her.

“You’re going to squash all the cakes!” she screeches when we come up for air.

“There’s only one thing I’m hungry for,” I growl.

“Sheesh,” she says, “you ate me out like five hours ago.”

“I know. An eternity ago!”

“Where are the others?” she asks, rolling her eyes at me.

“Both in their offices, catching up on correspondence.”

The smile on her face slips. “Are you guys in trouble?”

“No, no, not at all, Harper. Getting sick,” I wink at her again, “is a hazard of the job.”

I take the box from her hands, pull Harper into the kitchen and call down the hallway: “Harper’s here. With cakes.”

There’s a pause and then two doors fling open, my packmates both rushing into the kitchen too. They both come charging towards her.

“Is anything the matter?” Wyatt asks, gaze analyzing Harper’s form, presumably for signs of injury.

“No, nothing!” Harper laughs. “Mom wanted to give you poor sickly souls some cakes and so I seized my opportunity to come see you again.”

“How was your mom?” Daxton asks.

“It’s okay. She doesn’t suspect a thing. And neither does Molly.”

“I thought Molly knew about our … situation.”

“She knows we spent my heat together. She’s assuming it was a one-off occurrence. Something I needed to get,” she makes little quotation marks with her fingers, “‘out of my system’.”

“And have you? Got us out of your system?” Daxton asks with an arched brow.

“No,” Harper sighs, “I think you’ve well and truly infected my system.”

I place the box down on the counter and stroke my beard.

“Hmmm,” I say, “an infection of your system. That sounds serious. I advise we undertake a thorough examination of the patient. What do you think, doctors?”

“Most definitely,” Daxton says.

“Oh really, what kind of examination?” Harper asks.

“Take a seat,” I tell her pointing to one of the kitchen chairs.

She looks at me with suspicion and amusement as she sits.

I stalk towards her, rest my fingertips beneath her jaw, and massage the sides of her throat.

“Glands feel normal.” I reach inside my pocket, pull out my phone and switch on the flashlight. “Open wide, please, Miss.”

She opens her mouth and I shine the flashlight around her lips then down her throat.

“Extraordinary,” I say.

“What?” she says in alarm, snapping shut her jaw.

“You have a very pretty pair of tonsils. Stethoscope please, Dr. Stanton,” I say to Wyatt. He opens one of the cabinets and drags one out.

“You keep stethoscopes in the kitchen?” she says.

“We’re doctors.” I hook the buds into my ears. “It’s best to be prepared. Now, if you’d be so kind as to undo your top buttons please, Miss.”

“Are you sure that’s necessary, doctor?”

“Absolutely necessary.”

She holds my gaze in hers as she threads the top two buttons of her dress through their holes, revealing her cleavage. An act that has my pulse racing, even though I’ve spent the last five days in bed with this girl, naked.

I breathe onto the stethoscope’s bell, warming the metal up, and then press it against her skin, right above her heart.

I adopt a concerned expression.

“Well, my goodness, my goodness indeed.”

“Is there something wrong, doctor?”

“Your heart seems to be racing. I wonder why that could be. I will need to investigate further.” I glide the bell lower until it covers the crest of her cleavage. “Are you experiencing any other unusual symptoms?”

She bites her lip and nods, happy to play along in my little role-play.

“And what are those symptoms?”

“I keep seeming to come over all hot and dizzy, doctor. In fact, I feel quite flustered now.” She fans her hand in front of her face and then undoes a further two buttons of her dress. “And …” she drops her voice to a whisper, “I’m not sure if I can say. It’s rather intimate …”

“You’re in safe hands, Miss.”

“I seem to be wet between my legs quite often.”

“Curious,” I say, “let me confer with my learned colleagues.” I turn to my packmates. “Any hypotheses, gentlemen?”

“Is there any particular activity that seems to trigger these symptoms?” Daxton asks her.

“Why yes,” Harper says all innocently, “these symptoms only ever seem to appear when I am in the company of a set of certain gentlemen.”

“And do you think there is anything about these particular gentlemen that could be triggering your symptoms?” Wyatt asks.

She ponders this. “They do smell exceedingly good.”

“Interesting,” I mumble.

“And some would describe them as handsome,” she adds.

“Only some would describe them that way?” I question.

She shrugs.

“Would you?”

“Definitely.”

“I think I may know the problem here.” I stroke my beard.

“You do, doctor?”

“You have a serious case of the ‘needy-little-omegas’.”

“That does sound serious,” Harper says. “Is there a cure?”

“Only one known cure, I’m afraid,” I say, crouching down in front of her so that our faces are level.

“And is that cure very bad, doctor?”

“No, in fact, you may find the treatment quite enjoyable, and it should bring you immediate relief. But you will have to follow my instructions and do exactly as I say. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“You will need to remove your panties for this procedure.”

She nods her head seriously, lifts her hips and reaches under her skirt. Then she’s sliding her panties down her legs. I hook them off her ankles and bring them up to my nose, inhaling deeply. “Peaches, quite remarkable.” I hand the panties up to Daxton. “We will need to keep these for further research purposes.”

“And is that completely necessary?” my patient asks.

“Most necessary. Now, if you could part your thighs. That’s it, a little wider please, we must be able to inspect you properly.” She bunches the skirt of her dress up around her waist and gives us all a perfect view.

“What do you think, doctors?”

“The most perfect specimen I have ever set eyes on,” Daxton growls.

“I would concur,” I say. “Now Miss, please make yourself comfortable and we shall begin the procedure.”

“Are you sure it won’t hurt, doctor?”

“Quite the opposite.” I run my hand up her thigh and to her parted pussy lips. “Yes, I see. You are a wet little thing, aren’t you?”

I draw my fingers around her pussy hole and she bites her lip all the harder, her eyelids fluttering.

“Is this of help?”

“I fear it isn’t enough.”

“Ahh you require more.” I slide a finger inside her. “Is this better?”

“No, doctor! Still not enough!”

I give her another finger, massaging that spot inside her. She squeals and then she’s bucking and jolting on the seat, firing a stream of curse words at me.

“It’s okay, little one, we’ll have you sorted in just …” I rub at her clit with the heel of my hand, “one …” I thrust my fingers in and out of her, “moment!”

She comes, color rushing into her cheeks, pleasure swimming across her face.

“Oh, doctor,” she moans.

“There, there. Do you feel better now?”

She opens those pretty eyes of hers and smiles languidly at me. “So much better.”

“Then I think we could move on to the more thorough form of treatment.”

I grab her waist and swing her right over my shoulder. She screams, kicking her legs. “Doctors, to the bedroom. You are needed immediately, code red.”