Omega's Stepbrother : An MPREG romance (Men of Meadowfall Book 3)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Prologue
Epilogue
Wyatt
Raph
Author’s Notes
Omega Teacher’s Baby
The Omega’s Secret Pregnancy
About the Author
Omega’s Stepbrother
Anna Wineheart
Contents
Prologue
1. Wyatt
2. Raph
3. Wyatt
4. Wyatt
5. Raph
6. Wyatt
7. Raph
8. Wyatt
9. Wyatt
10. Wyatt
11. Raph
12. Raph
13. Wyatt
14. Raph
15. Wyatt
16. Wyatt
17. Raph
18. Wyatt
19. Raph
20. Wyatt
21. Raph
22. Wyatt
23. Wyatt
24. Raph
25. Wyatt
26. Wyatt
27. Wyatt
28. Raph
29. Wyatt
30. Raph
31. Wyatt
32. Wyatt
33. Wyatt
34. Raph
Epilogue
Author’s Notes
Omega Teacher’s Baby
The Omega’s Secret Pregnancy
About the Author
Copyright Anna Wineheart 2018
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This novel contains graphic sexual content between two men. Intended for mature readers only.
Warnings: Past domestic/emotional abuse, violence, kidnapping, self-harm, panic attacks
For two guys who have always belonged.
.
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Prologue
Raph’s palm burned against his back, right over Wyatt’s ink. His lips brushed Wyatt’s ear, his breath damp. “You showed this at the party. Were you asking every alpha there to ‘drive in’?”
Wyatt’s heart pounded. This could go either way—he could say something scathing, and Raph would leave. Or he could give in to his heat, and the months and years he’d thought about Raph, wishing they’d never been brothers.
“How does it read to you?” Wyatt asked, his voice so quiet he wasn’t sure if Raph heard.
Raph drew a shaky breath, gripping Wyatt’s arm so tight it almost hurt. “It reads as an invitation.”
“And would you—” Wyatt swallowed “—would you accept it?”
Raph groaned, his fingers brushing down the tattoo, catching along Wyatt’s waistband. “We’re goddamn brothers, Wyatt.”
“Stepbrothers. We aren’t related by blood.”
Except everyone outside this room would condemn them if they did. There was Penny, and their parents, and their grandmother. The people at the party. Wyatt’s insides squirmed; they shouldn’t do this.
And yet his body ached. If no one found out... “Just once, Raph. Please.”
Raph’s breath rushed out of him. He pressed his forehead to Wyatt’s shoulder, his fingertips trailing down Wyatt’s back, over the curve of his ass. “How many other people saw this tattoo?”
“Plenty,” Wyatt said. But that wasn’t what Raph was asking. Raph meant How many people have you seduced with it? and Wyatt would answer that. He wasn’t eighteen anymore. He had regretted the times they’d danced around each other an age ago, waiting for Raph to respond. Waiting until it was too late. “But I haven’t slept with anyone since I got it. Two years ago.”
“Fuck.” Raph pressed his palm against Wyatt’s ass, squeezed his cheek. Spread him open through his trunks. “I swear it’s just my rut.”
“I need to know, Raph,” Wyatt said, his voice cracking. “I need to feel you inside.”
1
Wyatt
Meadowfall, California
“Please tell me Raph won’t be there.”
Wyatt Fleming cringed at his bedroom mirror, his stomach flipping. Who was he kidding? His father’s party was the news of the entire town—everyone loved Chief Fleming. Of course his stepbrother would be there.
“Raph?” his best friend asked. Sam studied Wyatt’s reflection, the fading evening sunlight casting shadows on them both. “Wait, you mean the brother you never talk about?”
“Stepbrother. There’s a difference.”
Sam’s eyebrows inched up, waiting for an explanation.
Well, shit. Now Wyatt had to get Sam’s attention off his brother. Stepbrother. He was screwed either way, and not because Sam would find out at some point.
Raph was Wyatt’s biggest secret—no one was ever supposed to know.
“Our parents married when I was three. He was seven. We grew up as brothers.”
“Yeah, and?” Sam studied him. “That’s common. Stepsiblings are common. I probably know ten other people whose parents divorced and remarried.”
Not the point, Sam. Wyatt stalled, looking at the framed pictures of Hazel and him on the wall, and the stacks of music scores on his bookshelf. The retro-colored prints of Wy’s Drive-In framed in a four-photo cascade beside his bed.
Except the more he remembered of Raph—broad shoulders, tanned, his voice a mellow rumble—the more his heat ached through his body. What kind of timing is this?
Of course he couldn’t just attend a party with his stepbrother; his heat had to crash down on him, too. As though his body knew the sort of things he’d thought about Raph, and had fully prepared him for the party... in the worst possible way.
It’s been almost a decade... You’d think it would’ve faded by now.
Even as he thought that, his body ached. Raph, with his full lips and his confident grin. Raph, with his strong hands that had helped Wyatt with piano practice. Raph, with his sea-blue eyes, so sharp they could pierce through you, read all your thoughts, and sweep you off your feet.
At least, Wyatt remembered that about him.
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “What happened between you and him? It’s not like you and Max, is it?”
“Ha! Raph?”
Raph was a hundred-percent perfect. Wyatt hadn’t met anyone else like him.
Growing up, Wyatt couldn’t recall a time when Raph hadn’t been there for him, sharing his cookies, bringing him and Penny out to the backyard to play make-believe. They’d sat together and ripped open their Christmas presents, and they’d trooped along with Dad to the police station, so Chief Fleming could show off his children.
At fourteen, Wyatt had presented as omega, and the scents he’d grown up smelling—Raph’s teak scent—had suddenly appealed far too much to him.
Even if Raph was his brother.
After Raph, Max had been... brutal. Max had been snide and rough, and he’d torn apart Wyatt’s pride like Wyatt had wanted him to, because... well. Wyatt hadn’t thought he’d deserved his pride anymore.
You have a twisted little soul, don’t you? Max had whispered. Think anyone
out there likes you? You’re wrong. You’re worse than the shit on the bottom of their shoe.
“Max was punishment after Raph,” Wyatt blurted, a weight rolling off his chest. Then he froze. Crap.
Sam’s eyes grew wide. “After... Raph? You know I was kidding about your brother, Wy.”
I know now. But the damage was done, when Sam stared suspiciously at Wyatt, the cogs of his mind working. Wyatt groaned, pressing his face against the mirror. His cheeks burned. So much for keeping secrets.
“Wait, what happened between you and your brother? I mean, seriously.”
“Nothing happened.”
“It’s not... Hazel, is it?”
“Fuck, no!” Wyatt jerked away from the mirror, his stomach flipping like a struggling fish. “Hazel is Max’s daughter. I didn’t—Things didn’t go that far with Raph.”
There. That was the first time he’d said it aloud. Wyatt’s cheeks scorched; he looked down at the swimming trunks in his hands, unable to meet Sam’s gaze.
“Oh, gods,” Sam whispered. “How far did you go?”
Pretty damn far. Nine years ago, Raph’s hand had slipped between Wyatt’s legs, his lips soft and damp on Wyatt’s mouth. It had been three seconds of heaven, and Grandma had crashed into the piano room like the angel of justice. Her wrinkled face had gone ashen, then puce with fury.
“Far enough that my grandmother shrieked,” Wyatt muttered. Grandma had never liked him; he’d broken a family heirloom when he’d first met her, and she’d hated him ever since. “She threatened to raise hell. I left.”
Sam pursed his lips, his eyes dark with concern. “You were nineteen then?”
“Eighteen.”
“So that’s... that’s when you met Max.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Honey.” Sam pulled Wyatt into a fierce hug, his thin arms clasped around Wyatt’s back. His dahlia scent wafted over Wyatt, omega-sweet, and Wyatt leaned into him. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I’m still your best bud. Whatever you’ve done, I promise I’ll stick with you and Hazel.”
His words weren’t condemning. They weren’t Grandma’s staccato accusations, sharp and poisonous. They weren’t Raph’s low growl, seething at the interruption.
“Thank you,” Wyatt said, his throat tight.
Slowly, he allowed himself to relax. Sam’s words were honest, and Wyatt appreciated them. But deep down, Wyatt wanted to be enveloped in the strong arms of an alpha, wanted to be held, and protected, so he could forget about everything for a while.
For nine years, he’d been the strong one, raising Hazel, making the decisions for his daughter and business.
Right now, his heat thrummed in his body. He wanted an alpha.
Except which alpha would have him, when Wyatt was sick and twisted? He’d almost seduced his brother. He’d been abandoned by his first alpha, Max, when he was pregnant. Wyatt was used goods that no one wanted in the first place, especially when he couldn’t be an alpha’s everything. He had a daughter to consider.
“So you’ll be seeing Raph later,” Sam said.
Wyatt’s stomach swooped. “Oh, gods. He won’t really be there, will he?”
“Beats me. You could skip the party.”
“I can’t.” Wyatt winced, prying himself out of Sam’s hug. He looked at the printed swimming trunks in his hands, palm fronds edged around its waistband. “It’s my dad’s party. I promised him and Mom I’d show up. I even got the kitchen to pack some ramen.”
Wy’s Drive-In was popular enough in Meadowfall that he didn’t need the extra advertising. But people knew Wyatt was Chief Fleming’s son, and Wyatt should show his face, so his parents didn’t get concerned neighbors asking about his absence. Asking if anything had happened between him and Raph. The thought curdled his blood.
If anyone found out, Grandma would hear. Wyatt’s parents were still living with Grandma in her mansion, and if she heard... she might evict them.
Wyatt couldn’t do that to his parents. Not when Dad had carried him on his shoulders, had cheered when he’d presented as omega. Mom had taught Wyatt and Penny and Raph to bake cookies, had lined them up in a row at the kitchen counter, and taught them to decorate the cookies.
He shoved those thoughts away. Not like I’ll be doing anything with Raph tonight.
But Wyatt had thought about Raph, on and off through the years. He’d thought about Raph on lonely nights, when Hazel was sleeping in the next room. He’d thought about Raph cuddling with him, holding him, touching his skin.
After Max, Wyatt hadn’t dared trust another alpha. Not when Max had seemed so kind at first. So his thoughts had gone back to Raph, and the soft, sweet words Raph had whispered in his ear, so many years ago.
He could imagine Raph pressing him down, his broad body hot against Wyatt’s thighs. Raph would nudge his legs apart with his knees, fit his cock up against Wyatt’s ass. Wyatt still remembered the warm drag of Raph’s fingers down his belly, the whisper of Raph’s fingertips against his cock.
Blood surged between Wyatt’s legs. He held the swimming trunks over his hips.
“Dude, maybe you shouldn’t go,” Sam said, giving him a dubious look. “You smell like sex.”
Wyatt gulped, wishing he didn’t spew musk every time his arousal spiked. “Pinch your nose. That might help.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “So, what’s Raph like? Should I get Hazel and we’ll come crash your party? That should be a boner-killer.”
That would almost be a good idea... except he was in heat. And his heat didn’t care who was around, daughter or best friend or whatever. Wyatt didn’t need his daughter seeing him react to Raph. Raph was his brother. Her uncle. He needed to stop thinking about this train wreck of a party. “Nothing’s going to happen. I promise.”
“Sure.” Sam raised his eyebrows.
“Everyone will love Raph,” Wyatt mumbled. “He’s the perfect son. First class honors from Highton Stars College. Regional manager at the Alpha Associates Bank. Pecs, biceps, you name it. He walks into a room, and every omega will drop their clothes.”
Including me.
Maybe Raph was married now. Maybe he’d found a bondmate. Maybe he had a full life and children over in Highton, and Wyatt would mean as much to him as a forgotten piano.
Maybe the dinner party would go okay, even if Wyatt was in heat.
“I’ll pop more suppressants,” he said, his ass damp at the thought of Raph. All he wanted was for Raph to look at him. Hold him. And maybe—hopefully—that would be enough. “Thanks for staying with Hazel tonight.”
“I promised her a coloring contest,” Sam said, patting Wyatt’s shoulder. “She’s working on one of those new complex coloring books right now. The one with the cottages.”
“I love the cottage one,” Wyatt said, looking at his swimming trunks again.
“Those are huge. They might be a little loose on you.”
“I’ll tie them on tight.” Wyatt swallowed, his heat throbbing down his thighs. He’d make sure the noodles were all in place for the party. Then he’d say hi to his parents, and jump in the pool. Raph wouldn’t look there twice, would he?
2
Raph
Raph wasn’t made for parties.
He wove through the crowded backyard of the Fleming mansion—through the townsfolk by the sprawling pool, past the meandering couples in the garden, to the suited alphas by the outdoor grill. Beneath the smoky scents of barbecued meat and charcoal, Raph smelled the woodsy scent of alphas, the grassy hint of betas, and the floral sweetness of omegas.
Next to the grilling pit, caterers had set up a long table of dinner choices—succulent steaks, fluffy mashed potatoes, and juicy green peas. Noodles in yellow boxes on one end, pastries and cakes on the other.
His parents were speaking with a small group of townsfolk at the grill—their neighbors. Raph recognized the mayor, and the president of the Meadowfall College.
They weren’t who Raph was looking for tonight, though.
And maybe he should’ve known better than to hope for a glimpse of his stepbrother.
Wyatt hadn’t shown up in Raph’s presence for nine years. Every time Raph drove to Meadowfall from Highton, Penny and Grandma would be at the family dinners. Not Wyatt. Never Wyatt, even if Wyatt was the one who lived in Meadowfall.
“Raph!” Mom waved, a bright smile spreading across her face.
Raph sighed. He hadn’t wanted to socialize this soon, but it was better than shaking hands with townsfolk he barely knew. And maybe Mom could tell him if Wyatt was here. So he wouldn’t be futilely searching the crowd, hoping to see familiar blond hair and hazel eyes.
“Have you watched your dad’s interview?” Mom asked when he approached, the air above the grill rippling with heat.
She was dressed in a shimmering gown, her hair all coiffed. Tanya Fleming looked nothing like Raph, all pale and blond, but Raph loved her as his own mother. She had been the one to bake Raph his birthday cake, back when they were all a new family, uncertain with each other.
“Yeah. I looked up the news when you mentioned it,” Raph said, giving her a quick hug.
Two weeks ago, his dad had won the most prestigious service award in the country. Mom had wanted Raph’s help with the party-planning. Raph had declined, saying he was swamped with work.
Well, that had been bullshit.
Raph hadn’t wanted to risk helping, and have his mom ask him to talk to Wyatt. Raph was giving him space. Even if he’d already given Wyatt space for nine damn years.
But as Mom smiled kindly at him, he thought maybe he could ask about his brother. His heart pattered. “Have you seen—”
“Raph, son! Come over here!” His father grinned, and a handful of gazes locked onto Raph.
“Go on,” Mom said. “Dad’s been waiting to see you!”
Raph swore inwardly, giving his mom a quick hug. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said. “You look great.”