Omega's Stepbrother : An MPREG romance (Men of Meadowfall Book 3)

by Anna Wineheart

  Mom beamed. Raph joined his father and the neighbors, blinking at the steaming plate of grilled chicken wings his father handed him. “Congrats on the award, Dad. Penny’s been telling me all about it. I can’t believe they flew you to New York for the medal!”

  Dad puffed his chest out, his eyes crinkling. He wasn’t wearing the medal now, but Raph was sure it was sitting somewhere in the mansion, proudly on display.

  Watching his dad with the other high-ranking alphas, Raph wondered if he’d ever reach that status. Years ago, he’d thought about becoming a police officer, just like his dad was. Then things had happened with Wyatt, and Grandma had found out. And Raph knew their history would be a smear against him, worse if he worked for the government.

  So he’d gone to college for business classes instead, and Grandma had loaned him the tuition for his classes. And the payoff amount had swelled over the years, even as Raph worked his ass off to bring it down, lower it so he wasn’t in debt when he found a bondmate.

  He hadn’t found a bondmate. And he was still neck-high in debt.

  Not something he ever wanted to mention to his parents. Or Wyatt, or anyone, really.

  “This is my son, Raph,” Dad said, throwing his arm around Raph’s shoulders. The other alphas looked at him, middle-aged men in stately suits—the most respected alphas in Meadowfall. Raph would get there someday, follow in his dad’s footsteps. Make his dad proud.

  “My daughter’s upstairs—Penny’s working in a lab in Meadowfall College,” Dad said.

  “I’ve met Penny,” the college president said.

  “That’s great! And my other son, Wyatt—he owns a noodle restaurant down by Chapman and Perkins.”

  Raph’s stomach flipped. Talk more about Wyatt, he wanted to say. Except who asked their dad for news about their brother? When Wyatt probably lived a few minutes away from here?

  “Raph’s a regional manager at Alpha Associates,” Dad said, straightening his shoulders. “I wish he’d visit more often, but he’s got busy things to do at Highton.”

  The other alphas nodded. Raph wanted to get out from under their scrutiny, so he could blend into the crowd, search out his brother. Just a glimpse would be enough.

  “I should get a fork for this,” Raph said, lifting his plate of chicken wings. He’d grabbed a bite on the drive to Meadowfall; he wasn’t so hungry right now. Not when his heart was racing. Is Wyatt here?

  “Come back later.” Dad drew him into a one-armed hug. “I haven’t introduced you to half these folk.”

  “They all know me, Dad.”

  “But they haven’t seen you in a while.” Dad grinned, his hair all salt-and-pepper under the strings of fairy lights. “Look at you—all grown up. You’ve been doing great at the bank, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve been grown up for years, Dad. Bank’s doing great.” Raph nodded at the other alphas, raising his plate. “Let me catch a bite first.”

  He slipped out of the circle and into the rest of the crowd. Speakers broadcasted string and piano music overhead—one of the pieces they’d used to play as children—Songs About Us. Looked like Dad still had that old CD. And Raph still remembered the chorus, the violin interlude.

  Forget me not in the years to come

  Together, we’ll be stronger as one

  He set his plate on a passing butler’s tray, then started his search anew.

  His parents had never caught on to Wyatt and him. They’d probably missed the way Wyatt had looked at Raph, back when Wyatt had first presented as omega.

  Raph still remembered the day Wyatt had returned from school, smelling like sweet magnolia. His eyes had honed in on Raph, and he’d lifted his nose, sniffing. Later that evening, after they’d showered, Wyatt had whispered, You smell good. And all the alarm bells in Raph’s head had clamored.

  It was wrong. They were brothers. Wyatt had been fourteen, and Raph, seventeen.

  Raph had told Wyatt he needed to find his bondmate. I will, Wyatt had said. And his gaze lingered on Raph, through the days and months and years, until he’d turned eighteen.

  At eighteen, Wyatt had been slim and beautiful, his eyes doe-soft and vulnerable, his lips curving whenever he saw Raph. Something in Raph had responded, had wanted his omega brother for himself.

  Sure, there were a bunch of other omegas at school, that Raph knew. But none of them knew him like Wyatt did. Wyatt had sidled up to him, asked him what was wrong when Raph failed a test, and Raph had worked harder, hating to disappoint his younger brother. He’d improved his grades, gotten a hell lot better on the violin, and Wyatt’s eyes had shined with admiration.

  And it had been intoxicating.

  No one had found out, save for Grandma. On that August afternoon nine years ago, Wyatt had asked Raph to sit with him in the piano room. He’d played Songs About Us, one of Raph’s favorites. Then Wyatt had tipped his face up, his eyes fluttering shut, and Raph had kissed him.

  But that wasn’t the worst part of it. Not Grandma, not the banishment. What had happened after had been far more terrible than anyone would’ve thought—and only Raph had cared enough to ask around.

  Nine years ago, Wyatt had left their childhood home. Then he’d gotten trapped in an abusive relationship with some alpha. Two months later, he’d left, battered and broken, carrying a child.

  Raph had only found out after the fact, when he’d tracked Wyatt down through his Facebook friends. Then he’d realized that eighteen-year-old Wyatt had been homeless, had run himself down to make ends meet, and kept it a secret from the rest of his family.

  By initiating that very first kiss, Raph had helped destroy his brother’s life.

  He still hadn’t apologized for it. Had no idea how he could possibly make it up to Wyatt—all the hurt, the loneliness, the years of his life. And Wyatt had never once replied to his messages; Raph could see why. It didn’t lessen his guilt any.

  A series of whoops rang above the crowd. Then great splashes came from the pool, and the crowd murmured.

  Raph turned. He’d been expecting to see kids running around, maybe teens splashing at each other. There were five drenched teenagers bobbing in the water, grinning at each other.

  A sixth person surfaced, dark blond hair flattened against his face, mouth agape as he sucked in air.

  Raph would’ve recognized that face anywhere. The shape of that fine jaw, the arch of that pale throat. Those thin lips, those square, white teeth.

  Wyatt?

  He froze on the lawn, his heart pounding too hard.

  The party-goers washed around him like water around a rock, and all Raph could do was watch. Wyatt swept the hair out of his eyes. In three strokes, he swam to the edge of the pool, thin fingers closing around the rounded stone edge.

  Wyatt flattened his hands on the granite coping, then heaved. Water sluiced off his chest as he rose like an ethereal creature, his chest smooth, his skin pale. He set his foot on the edge of the pool, climbed up cautiously. Raph couldn’t stop looking at his slender frame, the pale scar on his belly, the way his nipples tightened in the cool evening breeze.

  “Nice dive,” one of the kids in the pool yelled.

  Wyatt grinned over his shoulder, gave a thumbs up, and a wave of déjà vu settled over Raph like a spider’s web.

  This new Wyatt—older now, at twenty-seven—had little lines of stress worked into his forehead, into the sides of his mouth. But his eyes gleamed warmly like Raph remembered, and he could’ve sworn he’d seen this happen before, Wyatt all relaxed, climbing out of this same pool, his troubles gliding off his back.

  It wasn’t the face of someone who’d been let down by Raph.

  The music in the background thumped, slow piano notes darting into quick violin strokes—one of Dad’s favorite songs. The crowd’s energy changed.

  Raph wasn’t the only one who noticed it. The couples around him swayed into dances, and Wyatt glanced up, recognizing the music. He moved as he straightened, hips rolling, fingers threading through his hair. Bene
ath the chlorine of the swimming pool, Raph caught the faintest trace of magnolia—Wyatt’s scent.

  Gods, he hadn’t smelled magnolia in ages. Raph closed his eyes. This didn’t mean anything. He was just glad to see his brother. Stepbrother. Wyatt had always made that distinction, and Raph had heard in the spaces between his words, Kiss me.

  Some kiss that had turned out to be.

  As Wyatt turned, a splatter of ink snagged Raph’s attention.

  It was small. Palm-sized, maybe. Linework of a scroll unfurling across Wyatt’s lower back. In cursive letters on the scroll, just above the waistband of his swimming trunks: Drive In.

  Raph stared, his breath punching out of his lungs. Drive into what? You?

  He could imagine that tattoo beneath his palm, Wyatt’s ass grinding down on him, taking him in. And along with that sweet, familiar scent, he caught a telling musk, faint and heady.

  Wyatt was in heat. And he was strutting around in that too-loose pair of swimming trunks, its waistband slipping off his hip. Damp fabric clung to the curve of his ass, his thighs. He could’ve been naked, for all the good those shorts were on him.

  Drive In, the tattoo murmured, stark on his pale skin.

  Something hot slid through Raph’s veins, ferocious and hungry. He had a second to think. Then need crashed through his body, surging between his legs. He staggered.

  It felt like a rut. Fucking hell, it was a rut, and all he’d done was stare at Wyatt’s ass.

  Never mind that they’d grown up together. Never mind that Raph had taught Wyatt to dive into a pool, arms outstretched, head ducked down. He was hard for his stepbrother, and all Raph could think about was that afternoon in the piano room, back when Wyatt had been playing that song, and Raph had slipped his hand between Wyatt’s thighs.

  Nine years ago, Wyatt had whimpered, grown hard for him, his lips soft and damp when Raph kissed him.

  And here he was, his ass all but bare, his tattoo whispering seductively at anyone who glanced at it. As though he was inviting any damn alpha to touch his ass.

  Raph stalked up to the poolside, snagged Wyatt’s gleaming, damp arm. Whirled his brother around to face him.

  “What the—” Wyatt met his eyes, and the words died on his lips.

  For how much land the party spanned across, it wasn’t brightly-lit at all. Strings of fairy lights hung over the garden and grilling pit. Paper lanterns hovered from tree branches, casting scant light on the crowd.

  Wyatt was half-lit by the blue glow of the pool, and by the golden shine of the light strings above them. His magnolia scent wafted into Raph’s nose, sweet and familiar, and Raph hadn’t had enough of it. Not with inches between them. Not with the crowd milling around.

  Wyatt was his brother, the omega he hadn’t seen for nine years, and Raph shouldn’t be this hard for him.

  The tattoo. An unwarranted possessiveness roared through his chest.

  “What the hell,” Raph growled, his fist tightening on Wyatt’s skin. “This isn’t your party. Why the fuck are you baring that—”

  Wyatt sucked in a breath, eyes wide. His gaze darted over Raph, down his crisp dress shirt and jeans, to his hips, where the fairy lights cast the bulge of his pants into sharp relief. Wyatt’s throat worked; he trembled against Raph, his lips parted, his skin chilly from the evaporating water.

  The musk of his scent deepened; it reached into Raph and hooked. And Raph’s cock throbbed, aching, trapped inside his too-tight pants.

  A tiny whimper slipped from Wyatt’s throat, as though he’d smelled Raph’s need. He tugged on his arm, stepped back.

  His foot caught on the edge of the pool. In that second, his eyes were vulnerable, his expression helpless.

  With a yelp, Wyatt slipped backward, flailing, his movement so sudden that he hauled Raph forward.

  Raph couldn’t stop Wyatt’s fall, not without dislocating Wyatt’s arm. He either fell in with his brother, or released him.

  It took a split second to make his decision. After what happened in the past, after he’d failed Wyatt... He wouldn’t make the same mistake. He’d fall with Wyatt, this time.

  So Raph followed him down, air rushing past his face, through his hair. Then he hit the water’s surface, and the noise of the party went silent.

  3

  Wyatt

  Water stung his skin as he crashed through the surface. Then, warmth enveloped him.

  Wyatt’s breath rushed out in a string of gurgling bubbles. Underwater, the pool rumbled, the heated water sliding over his skin. He cracked his eyes open to a sea of blue.

  Something plunged into the water beside him. When the bubbles floated to the surface, Raph was left behind, his hand still on Wyatt’s arm, his shoulders broad.

  For the second time tonight, Wyatt’s heart stopped. The partying townsfolk had fallen out of sight. The lilting music had muffled, and the pool’s surface rippled like dark silk above them. Nothing mattered, except for the white-and-navy mosaic tiles beneath his feet, and Raph.

  Raph cracked his eyes open. Then his gaze found Wyatt, and Wyatt froze.

  The last time he’d seen Raph in person... That had been nine years ago, in the piano room. Raph’s fingers had been careful on him, gentle, and Wyatt had grasped his arm, surging up, needing more.

  His cock strained, hidden by the loose folds of his swimming trunks. Raph’s gaze raked down his chest, over his nipples, his belly, to the telling bulge in his shorts. Wyatt’s cheeks burned. Raph shouldn’t be looking. It was... too intimate for a stepbrother.

  Raph’s fingers squeezed around Wyatt’s arm, pulling him close. His jaw worked, as though he wanted to say something while they still had this privacy. Then he released Wyatt, and Wyatt’s heart sank.

  Nothing could happen between them. Raph had spent years teaching Wyatt to play soccer, teaching him to swim and dance and ride. And Raph knew it, too, from his dark eyes, his pressed-thin lips. No matter how desperately Wyatt had wished they weren’t brothers, they still were.

  Except Raph slipped his arm around Wyatt’s waist, solid and warm, pulling Wyatt flush against his chest. The line in his jeans pressed into Wyatt’s hip, and Wyatt’s cock ached.

  This can’t be happening.

  They broke the surface, the evening air cool on their skin. Wyatt gasped. Raph’s bulge ground into his thigh. Before they’d fallen in, he’d caught a whiff of heavy musk, mingled with teak. It couldn’t possibly happen—Raph couldn’t be in a rut. Except it would explain why he smelled more than delicious.

  And why his covered cock pushed against Wyatt’s skin, thick and hungry and needing an omega. Like him.

  Wyatt’s hole squeezed. He gasped, his face drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead. So much for the heat suppressants.

  “What the hell,” he whispered, painfully aware of Raph’s broad chest pressed against him, his tanned skin visible behind his white shirt. The water lapped against their chests. The crowd was around the pool, and all Wyatt needed was a little bit of privacy. So he could feel Raph’s bare skin against his own. Grind up against his cock, feel the full length of it.

  He wasn’t over Raph at all, was he?

  “Gonna get us out,” Raph muttered. He slipped his arm down Wyatt’s back.

  Wyatt hissed, his skin tingling. And Raph glanced down at him, his blue gaze intent. He’d always been taller than Wyatt by a couple of inches, and Wyatt had to tip his head back to meet his eyes.

  “Following me?” Raph murmured, so low that Wyatt barely caught his words.

  “Yeah.”

  The ferocity in Raph had washed away, leaving a slow-burning heat. Wyatt staggered backward as Raph walked them to the shallow end of the pool, where the steps were. The entire way through, Wyatt’s cock rubbed up against his thigh, thick and telling, and Wyatt had no idea how he’d deal with that when they stepped out of the pool. What Raph even thought about all of this.

  “I need a towel,” he said.

  “I’ll get you one.” Raph glanced around th
em. Wyatt ducked his head, his cheeks burning.

  “Are they looking?”

  “Not for long. It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

  Don’t worry. At those words, something in Wyatt relaxed, like Raph had released a valve in him, venting the anxiety from his chest. Raph had always been able to do that, calm him when he worried. It was as though he knew the words into Wyatt’s heart, knew the things that Wyatt needed. Unlike Max and his cruel, harsh insults.

  So Wyatt pressed closer to him, holding Raph’s arm gingerly with his fingers. To the crowd, it probably looked as though Raph was guiding Wyatt out of the pool, and nothing else.

  “You guys need help there?”

  “Yeah. A towel, please,” Raph said. “Wy’s freezing.”

  Wyatt’s pulse staggered. Raph said his name. Raph damn well remembered who he was. The ache in his body throbbed anew, an insistent need that wound his nerves tight. I hate being in heat.

  “I should go,” Wyatt croaked. There were too many people around. He needed to drag himself away, before he climbed into Raph’s lap and rubbed their cocks together.

  For a moment, Raph didn’t say anything. He glanced down at Wyatt, his eyes considering. Wyatt realized he didn’t know if Raph was still the same man he knew, whether he had changed, or married, or wanted something else.

  Raph smoothed his fingertips down Wyatt’s side, pressing lightly into the side of his ass. It felt like anyone would be able to look into the pool, and see the way they touched, the sliver of water between their chests. And the tent in Wyatt’s shorts.

  “We need to talk,” Raph murmured, his breath damp against Wyatt’s cheek.

  “Not—not here.”

  “Yeah.”

  As they reached the shallow end of the pool, the water’s surface dipped below their chests, to their stomachs. Wyatt peeled himself away from Raph, twisting to hide his arousal. The party-goers milled around them. They’d recognize him and Raph. If anyone saw the bulge of his shorts...

  “Got you a towel,” the same beta from before said.

  Raph smiled. “Thanks.”