His Two Alphas

by Anna Wineheart

  Spike spread Micah’s legs open; Kai rubbed his wrist down Micah’s inner thighs, then up his balls, and over his cock. Micah’s breath hitched. Kai wants me.

  “Mine,” Kai rumbled.

  “Mine, too,” Spike added, rubbing his wrists where Kai had marked, so Micah’s body belonged to both of them. Micah flushed.

  Kai trailed kisses to Micah’s ear, then his temple. “We should talk about the baby.”

  He ran his wrist over Micah’s belly, his touch lingering. That was a promise.

  Micah’s heart stopped. “You really want the child?”

  “I don’t know if I can be a good dad,” Kai muttered. “But I’m not leaving you alone to do this.”

  “Me neither,” Spike growled, dragging his wrist over Micah’s belly, too. “Might have to quit school to get a job.”

  Micah frowned. “You aren’t doing that, Spike. College is more important.”

  “But the baby,” Spike protested.

  “I have some savings.” Micah sighed. “I’m capable of raising a child. Don’t sacrifice your future because of this.”

  Neither Spike nor Kai looked happy about that. “I need to contribute,” Spike muttered. “Tell me how I can help.”

  “Me, too,” Kai said.

  Micah looked fondly at them both, his heart swelling. If he’d had help like this when York was a baby... “Any plans for a child will all be long-term. If you really want to help, focus on your studies first. I can pay for the medical costs, but I don’t have so much time. You could help with childcare.”

  “We’ll learn,” Kai said, even though he looked doubtful.

  “That’s all I need of you.” Micah squeezed Kai’s hand, and Spike’s knee. “It won’t be so difficult if I’m not alone.”

  “You’re definitely not going to be alone.” Spike grinned. “You’ll get so tired of us.”

  “Maybe he’ll get tired of you, Spike,” Kai joked, his lips quirking into a smile.

  Spike leaned in, trailing kisses all over Micah’s face. Then he kissed Micah’s lips, and Micah’s stomach flipped.

  He still couldn’t believe this—two of the most handsome alphas in his classes, in bed with him. Promising him their protection. As though they’d clean forgotten about Micah’s scars.

  Kai rubbed Micah’s scarred shoulder, though, his touch firm and steady. He really didn’t mind. Micah leaned into him, their acceptance rolling over him like a warm blanket.

  “Sorry about the underwear that Spike stole,” Kai said dryly. “We’ll get a new one to replace it.”

  Micah laughed. “You already did.”

  “Well, I was going to exchange that for one we’ll rip up.” Spike grinned. “But we can get you another.”

  “This means you aren’t gonna raid Micah’s laundry hamper, right?” Kai asked.

  “How do you know I haven’t already?” But Spike looked thoughtful. “The pair I have doesn’t smell like Micah anymore. I could exchange it for a fresh one.”

  Micah bit down a smile; Kai sighed exasperatedly. “Just don’t bring it to class,” Kai said.

  Spike grinned. “But it’s my favorite thing ever! Besides our bed. That’s my other favorite thing in the world. What’s your favorite thing, Micah? Kai’s is his basketball medals.”

  Micah chewed on his lip. A month ago, he would’ve said it was his collection of novels, but he hadn’t touched them at all, ever since that first night with Spike and Kai. “I don’t know,” Micah said slowly. “I’ll need some time to think.”

  “Take your time,” Kai said.

  “And while you’re thinking about it, sleep in our bed.” Spike wriggled.

  Micah laughed, his pulse skipping. Spike and Kai... they were both so different. Both were wonderful. And Micah was glad he didn’t have to choose between them.

  Elsewhere in the apartment, an alarm clock rang. York’s.

  Micah froze, his heart kicking into a patter. “I should get back to my room. York’s getting up soon.”

  They exchanged glances; Micah still wasn’t sure when to break the news to his son.

  It had only been him and Spike, at first. And now, he’d started something with Kai, too, and Micah didn’t want to stop this... thing he had going on with them both. But that only worsened the secret, and York’s eventual reaction when he found out.

  I hope York won’t hate me. Micah’s chest tightened. He hasn’t had any good reaction to Kai or Spike getting close.

  “We’ll go out and head him off,” Spike said. “Stay in here.”

  “You don’t have to,” Micah answered. “I think I’ll be fine.”

  Outside the room, York’s bedroom door opened and closed. Then the hallway bathroom door clicked shut, and Micah scrambled off the bed. Now was a good time to disappear back into his bedroom.

  He found his clothes on the floor, his briefs in a crumpled heap, his shirt a tangled mess. But his pants... where were they? “I can’t find my pants.”

  Kai thrust a folded pair at him. “Take this.”

  Micah was reluctant to—it was still incriminating. But he couldn’t find his own, and he didn’t want to leave the bedroom, all briefs and bare legs.

  He stepped into Kai’s pants, its softness wrapping around his calves like a gentle hug. The waistband was loose, and the pant legs fell past his feet. There wasn’t time to fix them, though.

  Spike dropped to his knees, rolling up the hems. “There. So you won’t trip.”

  Kai tugged on the drawstrings at Micah’s waist, his fingers strong and efficient. Micah wanted to hug them both.

  “I’m really fine,” he said, except they followed him to the door, not a stitch of clothing on their own bodies. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “We’re just seeing you out.” Spike grinned. “This isn’t a walk of shame.”

  “An escort?” Kai asked with a smile.

  And maybe Micah felt more important with them, than he ever had in his life.

  Spike slid his palm up Micah’s back; Kai opened the door. Micah poked his head out.

  The hallway was silent. Spike leaned in, his breath warm on Micah’s ear. “See you later,” he whispered, nudging Micah out.

  Just three seconds, and Micah would be back in his own room. He took a step out, his heart thudding anyway. Two more steps.

  The bathroom door opened. York stepped into the hallway in a hurry, frowning like he’d forgotten something.

  Micah froze.

  “Shit,” Kai muttered. Spike sucked in a sharp breath.

  I need to act normal. But Micah couldn’t move. He knew his limp would attract York’s attention anyway.

  “Dad?” York asked, meeting Micah’s eyes. Then he looked past Micah’s shoulders, at Kai and Spike. Who were bare-chested.

  Micah expected them to shut the door behind him. Except they held the door open, and now York was openly staring. Micah’s stomach twisted.

  “What’re you doing with them?” York asked. He glanced at Micah’s pants, his frown deepening. “Wait.”

  Move. I need to move. Micah hauled himself forward, toward his own room. He felt terrible, hiding this from York. Not acknowledging his relationship with Kai and Spike, even though they’d accepted him completely. I should come clean. But York will think I’m disgusting.

  Some time back, York had asked Micah, Why do you have to take over the other professors’ classes?

  Because they were fired for sleeping with their students, Micah had said, wondering why his coworkers had even done that. No one in their right minds would.

  That’s sick, York had said. You said teachers are like parents. And you don’t sleep with your parents.

  Well, now Micah knew how Dale and Ian had felt, too.

  “What the fuck.” York looked at Kai and Spike, turning green. “Were you guys talking to my dad naked? Dad, you let them—Wait, those pants are too big on you. You don’t have any like that.”

  Micah watched as the cogs in York’s mind turned. He flatt
ened himself against his bedroom door, his hands sweating. Please drop the topic. Please don’t find out. I can’t lose you.

  “They said they’d knocked up some omega,” York muttered, his gaze flickering between Micah and the brothers. Then, in a softer voice, York whispered, “Fuck.”

  Micah’s pulse pounded in his ears. York’s nostrils flared; he sniffed at Micah, breathing in the incriminating scents on Micah’s skin. Musk, juniper, and elm. And honey.

  Horror flashed in York’s eyes.

  York’s going to leave me now. Micah’s heart wrenched. I wish I’d taught him that this is okay. But it’s not okay.

  “Sorry, Micah,” Spike said, stepping into the hallway. “Can’t let you do this alone.”

  Kai limped out to join his brother, his eyes narrowing when he glanced at York.

  Micah rubbed his face, sandwiched between his son and his alphas, his bedroom door a dead end behind his back.

  If he hid away, these three would fight. York would threaten Kai and Spike like how he did with his mug last night, and someone would get hurt.

  “It’s exactly how it looks,” Micah said, his heart sinking. “I’m sorry, York.”

  York looked flabbergasted. Then he glared at Kai and Spike, prowling forward. “This is your fault,” he growled. “I trusted you guys.”

  Spike’s eyes flashed. “And you know nothing, York. This is between Micah and us. Not you.”

  “Damn right it’s my business,” York snapped. “This is my dad we’re talking about! What the fuck did you do to him?”

  York lunged; Micah grabbed his arm, stopping him. York whirled back, but only barely. When he met Micah’s eyes, there was hurt in them, and betrayal. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve done something—”

  “I made a decision,” Micah answered, begging silently for York not to hurt them. “They didn’t force me into anything.”

  “But—” York looked disbelieving. “They were my friends. And... and...”

  “And sometimes, your dad is a little too lonely to say no.” Micah looked at his feet, his cheeks burning. “I like and trust them, York. It isn’t a fling.”

  “Y-you mean you’re dating them?” York asked, throwing a dirty look at Kai and Spike. “You’re sleeping with them, and they—they knocked you up?”

  Micah gulped. Kai and Spike were watching him, waiting to see what he’d do next. He was glad for their presence. They promised safety.

  “Yes,” Micah said, touching his belly. “I’m three weeks pregnant. I didn’t want to mention it until I know that the baby will be okay.”

  York stared at him in horror. “You—You have their kid. Oh, gods.”

  York looked revolted and betrayed, like he was ready to check out and pretend this hadn’t happened at all. Micah stepped closer, needing to comfort him.

  But York shrugged his hand off, as though he found Micah’s touch repulsive. “I’m heading out for a bit. This isn’t happening.”

  He shoved past Spike into his room, slamming the door. And that hurt, having York turn his back on Micah like that. He’d always come to Micah when he needed comforting, while he was growing up.

  For a long time, York had thought of Micah as his most important person. He probably didn’t want Micah as his dad now.

  That tore into Micah’s heart. He couldn’t breathe.

  Micah glanced up when Kai and Spike approached him; Spike slid his arm around Micah’s waist, Kai held Micah’s hand.

  “Let’s get back into the room for a while,” Kai said. “Let him cool off.”

  When they were out of the shadowy hallway and Kai had locked the door, Spike said, “Sorry. I know we should’ve shut the door. But I couldn’t—it felt like we were throwing you out to fend for yourself.”

  “Yeah,” Kai said. “We don’t run from problems like that.”

  And now they were back to being Micah’s guardian angels, and Micah didn’t know how he deserved them at all.

  They brought him back to the bed, sandwiching him between themselves. Then they hugged him, all strong arms and warm kisses, and Micah hid between them, just breathing in elm and juniper.

  He thought about York, alone in his room and hurting. He’d lied to his own son. What sort of parent did that? I promised I’d never lie to him. I promised I’d be there.

  Except he’d broken his promise because he’d been selfish and scared, and now Micah didn’t know if he still had a son to care for after this.

  His heart twisting, Micah buried his face in Kai’s chest, and cried.

  21

  Micah

  Micah pushed the shopping cart through the check stand, salivating at the food he’d gathered. All day, he’d been craving some salty smoked salmon. With dill-flavored whipped cream, on top of lemon custard.

  It would be a squishy, delightful mess in his mouth, and he couldn’t wait to get his food home.

  Except he’d overdone the shopping by a little bit.

  Micah eyed the stack of smoked salmon he’d bought, then the full quart of cream, and a gallon of milk. And the boxes of custard powder, and dried dill. They’d taken up two full shopping bags.

  The moment he wheeled the cart out of the store, Micah froze.

  It was pouring out. The air was chilly, and the cars in the parking lot gleamed wetly under the orange streetlamps.

  Worse, Micah hadn’t driven to the store. He’d walked.

  The moment he’d gotten off from work, he’d driven home to change into some comfortable clothes. York had stepped out of his room and said, I’m leaving, and he’d headed out the front door.

  It was only when Micah had gotten back downstairs, that he’d realized York had taken the car.

  That was okay, though. Micah was used to walking to the store.

  With the threat of looming thunderclouds, he’d hurried to the store without an umbrella. Except the moment he’d found the smoked salmon, he’d clean forgotten about the threat of rain.

  And now he either had to return some of his purchases, or walk home with two heavy bags.

  Micah’s heart sank.

  He didn’t want to return the things. It had been bad enough, having the cashier stare at his scars. It was a new kid working the register, and Micah had felt every single one of his wrinkles, standing there while the transaction processed. His scar tissue had itched.

  He made himself step back into the store. The smaller bottles of milk and cream were all the way across the store—too far away, so Micah made do with returning half the salmon, and some of the custard powder.

  The cashier said nothing, but Micah felt his judging stare, his skin too tight. I wish I looked normal. I wish I was young.

  The returns dropped his purchases down to one bag. Micah eyed the rain, and the puddles on the sidewalk. His phone buzzed.

  Kai had sent a text. Where are you?

  To delay the inevitable, Micah answered, Getting some groceries. I’ll be home soon.

  Do you need help?

  Micah wavered. He could accept that help. Or... he could prove to himself that he’d be okay alone.

  For the past few weeks, Kai and Spike had been crowding around him, helping him with cooking, with the dishes, laundry, and everything he could possibly imagine. York had given them a dirty look, and Micah hadn’t found a way to thaw his cold shoulder.

  But being with Kai and Spike... Things had been going so smoothly with them—sleeping in their bed, talking with them, sharing kisses like it was just an ordinary part of life.

  For as long as Micah remembered, nothing ever came this easy. There was a price, somewhere or other. Micah would have to pay it soon. The anticipation of it made him nervous.

  So if the price was walking in the rain, Micah would gladly do it.

  I think I’m fine, he answered. But thank you.

  He tucked the phone into his pocket, shielded it with his grocery bag, and squeezed the handle of his walking stick. Then he stepped out into the rain.

  Micah wasn’t prepared
for the stinging cold of it. He gasped, braving the next step, and the next. By the time he reached the road, the rain had soaked through his clothes, and his teeth chattered. He really was too old for this. I should have accepted his help.

  But why bother Kai and Spike, when it would take Micah just another twenty minutes to get home? The phone buzzed again; Micah ignored it.

  He waited forever at a pedestrian crossing, rain streaming down his face, his hair soaked through. Then fatigue set in, weighing down his limbs and eyelids.

  Micah had thought he’d manage the grocery trip without his fatigue hitting him yet—more things he’d been wrong about. He sagged against the traffic light, his grocery bag a leaden weight in his arms.

  By the time it was safe to cross the road, Micah could hardly push himself off the metal pole.

  He staggered across the asphalt. With each step, he felt as though he was lifting ten pounds with his feet. I can do this. Home isn’t far away.

  He made it to the other side of the road. And the sidewalk stretched out in front of him, like it would take an eternity to return to the apartment.

  Micah leaned heavily on his walking stick, his scar tissue twinging. His leg hurt with every step he took. Rain dripped into his eyes.

  He felt like an idiot, all of a sudden. He shouldn’t have gone to the store. He should’ve just stayed home, where he would be warm and dry. Misery welled up in his throat, almost suffocating.

  Why did he keep making the wrong choices, over and over?

  Then a car did an illegal U-turn behind him. Micah drifted to the right, turning to look.

  The car’s engine revved; it screeched to a halt next to him, silver and battered, painfully familiar. Micah’s pulse skipped.

  The passenger door flew open. Spike barreled out, scowling. But he didn’t speak. He shut the door, took the bag of groceries from Micah, and pulled open the backdoor.

  “Inside,” Spike growled.

  He’s angry? Afraid to question Spike, Micah fumbled into the backseat, his heavy feet snagging on the side of the car. He tripped and lurched across the seat, flushing with embarrassment. So much for doing this myself.

  This clumsiness was so unusual, even for him, that Kai turned in the driver’s seat to look. But Kai’s lips were pressed into a thin line. Micah wanted to hide his face.