by Amy Bellows
It’s been five years since I’ve been to his shop. So much has happened since then. We’ve fallen in love. Convinced half of the polar bear population we belong together. Made a baby.
“Yes.”
I think I’m ready to go back.
19
Todd
Lewis sits in the chair where hundreds of penguin shifters will get their bond necklaces welded to their necks over the next few weeks. They often wait with jittery fingers—the smiles on their faces so wide, they’re contagious. Lewis’s smile is calm, watching me weld his pebble to the magical chain he’ll wear for the rest of his life.
A chain made with a polar bear’s metal magic won’t ever break by accident. The night I removed Daniel’s necklace, I wasn’t sure if it would work. There are lots of different kinds of chains. The chain I made for Lewis winds in on itself over and over again in an intricate, varied twist. It’s the most complex metal work I’ve ever done. I would charge a client a small fortune for a chain like this.
I hand the necklace to Lewis for him to inspect, like I do with all of my clients. If they’re going to wear it for the rest of their lives, they deserve to see it first. Lewis rolls the metal rope in his fingers and holds it up to the light of the forge. Suddenly, I feel very vulnerable. That necklace is the best thing I’ve ever made. What if he isn’t impressed?
That would be devastating.
Lewis gets off the chair. Is he having second thoughts? Holding the necklace in his fist, he pulls down his pants and underwear, kicking off his boots with his clothing. His shirt comes off next, until he’s standing naked in front of me in my workshop. We haven’t locked the door, and the shop is technically open. What if someone walks in?
He holds the necklace up between us. “This necklace is breathtaking. I want to wear this, and only this, while you make love to me.”
“Here?”
He nods. “Right on that chair. After you weld the necklace on.”
In the last year Lewis has proven to be quite the exhibitionist—as long as we were on the polar bear shifter side of town and he had his hat on. At this point, that damn hat is enough to turn me on.
“Are you going to let me lock the door?” I ask.
He grins and shakes his head.
My sweet little penguin shifter is going to get me in trouble one of these days.
I slide my hands over his ass. “I’ll make love to you after I weld my pebble to your neck.” I squeeze his ass cheeks. “And while I do, anyone could walk in. Anyone at all.”
He shivers, even though the forge is on and the room is hot.
“Do you like that, love? Knowing someone could walk in off the street and see your naked ass on my chair, taking my knot?”
He bites his lip and reaches down to cup me through my apron and jeans. “I don’t think I’m the only one who likes it. You’re very happy to see me.”
I look down at his erection—proud and naked in my shop. Lewis was never meant to be prim and proper with a penguin shifter. He was meant to be wild with me.
“If you don’t stop, you’re not going to have a pebble around your neck,” I warn him.
He pouts with so much sass I can’t help but laugh.
“Get on the chair. I have to handle hot things, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
He flashes me a flirtatious smile. “I’m a hot thing, aren’t I?”
I smack his ass. He yelps. “Yes. But that’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”
Now that I’m sure Lewis wants to wear the necklace, I suit up in my welding gear. We’re finally ready to make this official. We spent plenty of time with his father this morning discussing logistics, and then we swung by my alpha mother’s house for good measure. Everyone in our lives knows what’s happening right now (with the exception of Lewis’s nakedness). And everyone is okay with it.
I never thought that was possible.
Once I have my gloves, and helmet on, I head over to the forge. I’ve been warming up my instruments, and now the metal tips are orange from the heat. I begin the age-old song of metal magic, slamming my hammer against the anvil where Lewis’s delicate necklace waits. I’ve been swinging a hammer for over ten years now, and it feels as natural as breathing. The song pours through my body and into my fingers as I bring the hammer down on the necklace again and again. The magic flowing from my mouth into my fingers is like making love to Lewis—it makes me feel alive. I sing and pound, sing and pound. I’m lost in my own element, completely unaware of what’s going on around me, when Lewis whispers in my ear.
“It’s ready. I can feel it. Put it around my neck.”
I don’t question how he knows. The connection I have with him defies explanation. But he’s right.
The necklace is ready.
“Go back to the chair. Hurry.”
He scurries over and sits down
The tips of the necklace are as hot as my tools as I wind it around his throat and fuse the two sides together. I continue singing, and Lewis joins in this time. I don’t tell him it isn’t necessary. He isn’t a polar bear shifter, so his song won’t fuse the metal. However, I can sense his song isn’t about that.
It’s always bothered me how penguin shifter bonds are so one-sided. The omega wears a necklace, but the alpha wears nothing. At least polar bear shifters both have a band around their arms. Somehow, Lewis’s singing transforms this from something I’m doing to him to something we’re sharing together. I like that better.
The connection between the two ends of the necklace takes. I feel it all the way down to my bones. It’s never been this deep before—this overwhelming.
“Now, Todd. Please,” he whispers.
I don’t ask him what he means. I know.
I lift him into my arms and sit down on the chair wearing my full welding gear. This can’t wait. Lewis lifts up my apron and yanks my pants open. I angle my hips so we can pull them down. He grabs my hard cock over my underwear.
“Get it off,” I hiss.
His fingers fumble as they hook over the waistband, and I lift my hips again.
I welded my necklace around his neck. Now it’s his turn to claim me.
There’s a pause as he preps himself. I normally do that for him, but I let him maintain control. He isn’t thorough enough, and I know it’s going to burn. He grabs my cock and positions himself over me anyway.
“You’re mine,” he says.
“That’s right. For the rest of our lives.”
He lowers down, swallowing half of my cock with his tight, wet heat. I moan.
“I’m going to have your baby, Todd.” He says it in a whisper, but I’ve never heard words so clearly in my life.
He sinks the rest of the way down, claiming me all the way to the root.
“Fuck!”
This man. He’s everything. When he takes me, the rest of the world fades. And now he’s going to give me a child. I pull his body down so I can hold him. I’ve never felt so close to someone. If this is what committing your life to someone means, polar bear shifters are missing out on something wonderful.
Before he moves, he lets me hold him for a while. It’s only a slight roll of his hips at first. I’m sure he’s still adjusting to the size of me. But those hips of his become as fluid as a wave—swelling up and crashing down. They speed up. And then I can’t help myself. I grab his ass and thrust into it with all my strength. He locks his lips on mine. He’s moaning, tensing in my arms, clamping down so hard on my dick I see stars. And then he’d coming all over my apron and screaming my name.
I can’t help it. I swell inside of him. He arches his back and digs his nails into my shoulders.
“Ugh! Oh, I can’t!”
He often panics when I knot him, but I know better than to pull out. I did that once, and he was furious with me.
“You can, love. Relax.” I rub his back as I grow bigger and bigger. I’m careful not to move, even though I want to. His breathing slows down, and finally a smile spreads across his face.
“Mmmmm. You fill me so good.”
“Can I—”
“Yes. Fuck me, Todd.”
Our hips sway together with a rhythm I’ve only had with him. My body isn’t mine in this moment—it’s his. My knot only exists to stretch him wide.
“Come for me,” he whispers in my ear.
My orgasm hits me so hard, I squeeze my eyes shut and hold onto him like a lifeline. I’m falling into white-hot bliss, and I want to drag him there with me.
“Lewis!”
“Yeah, that’s right. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
In that moment, I think both of our cultures got part of it right. The passion between us is thrilling, but the certainty of forever with him grounds me in a way I’ve never known.
I open my eyes and see my chain around Lewis’s neck. My pebble.
It’s almost enough to distract me from the creak of the front door to my shop.
Lewis’s eyes widen. “We’re closed!”
“I know. I’m just here to congratulate the happy couple.” It’s Ansel’s voice.
For God’s sake. Why now?
He walks in and busts up laughing when he sees Lewis naked on my lap. “You two are shameless!”
Lewis ducks his head into my chest and giggles.
“Ansel, now is not a good time,” I say because he doesn’t leave, and Lewis is too busy giggling to tell him to go.
Ansel covers his eyes and heads for the door. “All right, all right. But just so you know, we’re throwing a party for you guys tonight. I’m making fondue.”
Ansel is cooking? That’s terrifying.
“Bye!” he calls out.
Lewis manages to control himself long enough to ask, “Ready to go again?”
It’s my turn to laugh. Because I think I am.
I push further into him, and listen to the beautiful sound of his moan.
20
Lewis
It turns out there’s a reason why polar bear shifter alphas can sense if their mate is pregnant. Pregnancy is a huge thing in their culture. After our bonding, Todd puts tinsel above our front door, and the gifts start showing up. People bring us food, blankets, toys, and unsolicited advice. They place each gift at my feet, then outstretch their hand as if they want to shake it. But they don’t shake my hand, they bring it to their nose.
I’m not saying it’s weird. I understand every culture is different. All I’m saying is that I don’t understand it. Especially because, after smelling my hand, they usually glare at Todd. Can they smell my pregnancy or something? When I ask Todd, he just shakes his head and doesn’t explain.
After a few days of this, Todd sits me down in our living room and hands me a second binder. Like the Pebble Gifting Portfolio, it’s black with white lettering. The title on the cover is “Polar Bear Shifter Pregnancy Traditions.”
“I thought we talked about polar bear shifter traditions already,” I say.
He drags his hand through his white hair. “Right. But that was before you were pregnant. Polar bear shifters aren’t very fertile. Even though omegas go into heat every month, the chances of pregnancy are really low. So cubs are a big deal in our culture.”
That explains a lot. I open the first page. There’s a table of contents and everything. Twenty-five pages of the binder fall under “alpha’s responsibilities.” There’s only one page of “omega’s responsibilities.” There’s also a fairly alarming section entitled “blood ceremony.”
“Todd… what’s a blood ceremony?”
His shoulders tense. “Well, you know that most polar bear shifters don’t stay with the same mate their entire lives. The same is true for couples who have a child together. That being said, we believe having a child with someone is the strongest bond anyone can experience with another person. So we have a ‘blood ceremony’ to commemorate the familial ‘blood bond’ a child represents. The couples make vows to one another as co-parents. It’s sort of like a human wedding, but strictly about our parental roles. It’s very important to my mothers. They’ve already started asking me about it.”
That doesn’t sound too bad. “So there’s no blood?”
“No, there isn’t. Would you be okay with something like that?”
I take his hand in mine. “Of course. I’ll call your omega mother tomorrow and talk with her about it, okay?”
He smiles and gestures to the book. Clearly that isn’t the only reason why he wants me to read this. I start with the alpha’s responsibilities. I heard that alpha polar bear shifters abandon their children, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Apparently, having a pregnant omega is a very intense commitment in Todd’s culture.
“You’re supposed to massage peppermint oil into my hands every morning? Why?”
“I know penguin shifters don’t feel sick during their pregnancies, but polar bear shifters are pretty nauseous for the first three months. The smell of the peppermint helps. Anyway, that’s why people smell your hands. They’re checking for the peppermint. They want to make sure I’m taking care of you. That’s one of our traditions too.”
Oh. That’s kind of them… I think.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He squeezes my hand, and stares back at me with a pained expression. “This is your pregnancy. I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want to do, simply because it’s a tradition in my culture. But I figured I could tell you what the traditions are and you can decide for yourself if you’d like to participate.”
I’m rubbing off on Todd. That sounds like something a penguin shifter would do. He’s being very organized and methodical about all of this.
“Okay. For the record, I’m pro-peppermint hand massages.”
He sighs with relief. “Good. Because you would not believe the guilt trips my alpha mother has given me the last few days. Everyone’s been calling her and telling her that I’m neglecting my blood omega.”
I don’t love the term “blood omega,” but I don’t say anything. It’s not Todd’s fault that his culture’s terminology for co-parent is a little macabre.
I scroll down to the next item. “You’re supposed to bring me raw meat every day?”
Penguin shifters may not get nauseous when they’re pregnant, but the idea of eating raw meat every day makes me feel a little sick.
“Yes. That might be more appealing if you were a bear.”
“No on the raw meat. Sorry. It says here that you’re supposed to worship my body every day. Hmmm. I like the idea of that.”
He chuckles. “Well, good. Since I already do.”
The rest of the list is similar. Todd’s supposed to kiss both of my eyelids before I go to sleep every night, build a crib for our baby with his own two hands, and give me daily foot rubs (he warned me about the socially mandated foot rubs). It’s a lovely list of traditions. When I get to the section of omega’s responsibilities, it becomes clear who put this binder together. There’s only one item on the list.
“Visit your mother-in-laws. We need opportunities to dote on you.”
It’s funny. A part of me thought I’d be giving up a sense of family because Todd’s mothers aren’t together anymore, but now I realize it isn’t like that at all. Todd’s alpha mother isn’t gone, she just lives in a different house than his omega mother.
“Well, we should go visit them. So they can dote on me,” I say, trying to keep a straight face.
“We should. They mean a lot to me, Lewis. I want them to be a big part of our child’s life.”
I feel the same way about my omega father. Todd and I may come from different cultures, but our priorities are often the same. There’s a reason why we’re fated.
“So, I have no other responsibilities in your culture?”
He leans in and kisses my forehead. “Don’t you think growing a baby is enough?”
In penguin shifter culture it isn’t. The omegas do all of the cooking, cleaning, and childcare, even when they’re pregnant.
�
�I guess it is,” I admit.
It’s nice to be with an alpha who understands that.
21
Todd
At first we spent a lot more time with my mothers than Lewis’s father. But a month after our bonding ceremony, we finally have our first ultrasound, and find out Lewis is carrying eggs. Two of them. And both of the fetuses have the skeletal structure of a penguin. When we tell Daniel the news, he squeals over the phone. Then he invites me to eat dinner with him alone.
That sounds a little ominous, but he’s been kind to me since our bonding. I know I can’t refuse.
In January the light slowly returns to Anchorage. Day by day we get one more minute of sunlight. But it’s still the beginning of January, so when I leave our apartment at five to visit Daniel, it’s already pitch black.
Sometimes I wish we could move to the polar bear shifter part of town where at least there’s color from the streetlamps. The human and penguin shifter parts of Anchorage feel depressing in the winter.
I knock on Daniel’s door at 5:15. Exactly on time. Not a minute before, not a minute after. I have to hide in the stairwell for five minutes to accomplish this, but Daniel seems pleased when he opens the door, so it’s worth it.
“Good evening, please come in. I’ve made a salad for dinner.”
My mouth waters. Lewis stopped working at his father’s market months ago, and fresh vegetables from any other market in Anchorage are looking pretty sad right now.
I follow Daniel to the kitchen where an enormous bowl of greens, berries, nuts, and peppers sits at the center.
“That looks amazing. Thank you.”
I take the chair on the opposite side of the table where he’s set out a plate. He gestures for me to serve myself and sits down across from me.
“You’re probably wondering why I asked you here.”
No small talk. No “how are you?” Daniel gets straight to the point.
“Uh, yeah. I enjoy your company, but—”