Mac stood up. “This could be long. I’m going to make coffee.” He met the lawyer’s eyes. “Don’t tire him. He’s carrying a pup.”
Montague smiled. “Of course. And we’ll make sure you’ve had that pup before this ever hits the court.”
Mac saw the tension drain out of Jason’s back and shoulders, a visible change in his mate’s bearing. His cheeks pinked and he sat straighter. “I’d appreciate that. I don’t trust my old pack.”
“Well, you can trust me.”
Mac left for the kitchen, his heart lighter than it had been in a month.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Mid-August. I woke up at a ridiculously late hour again, but it was Saturday, and there was nothing more taxing awaiting me than my garden, which was almost as big a joy for me as Mac and the baby. Losing out on the early morning hours with my plants was frustrating, but Mac was right—I had more responsibilities than the tomato patch going on. I rubbed my hand over the mound of my belly and whispered, “Good morning, you.” He—I was sure it was a he—was still asleep. That wouldn’t last long—as soon as I got up to go to the bathroom (again!), he’d start doing a flamenco in there. “Definitely a little alpha, aren’t you? Just like your Papa.”
It was tempting to laze around a little longer; the bed was so warm and comfortable, and I’d been up twice during the night to pee. It was getting harder to find a comfortable position to sleep in, with the baby bump being more of a hill now. He’d shifted at some point over the past week, too, and now there seemed to be some part of him standing on my bladder most of the day and night. Mac appeared to sleep through most of my nocturnal wanderings, but I’d never before in my life been so thankful for my early training in ‘don’t disturb the alpha’. Not that he’d be angry if I woke him, but he needed his rest. He’d been taking on more of my responsibilities in my garden, plus meeting with Garrick and the lawyer, and he was still Head of Security.
And I was only four months along. What were we going to do at six months? Probably stay up all night.
The door closed downstairs and Mac’s feet started thumping up the stairs. Checking on me, I guess. I think I’d told him I’d be there at nine? It was ten already, according to my phone.
“Hey,” he said, standing in the doorway. His gaze roamed greedily over the lump in my middle. “How are my two favorite people in the world this morning?”
“Ready to pee. And then eat. He’s still asleep. Help me up before he realizes it’s time to start his calisthenics again?”
Mac came to me with his hands held out and a tender smile on his face. I loved seeing that look, loved knowing it was for me. I knew that this was a side of him only a few people saw, and I cherished the fact that he felt he could show it to me.
He pulled and I swung my feet out of the bed and let him do most of the work. Mac seemed to enjoy that, looking after me. I’d started seeing people differently since I came here. In my old pack, it was the responsibility of the omegas to make sure everything went right, that everyone’s needs and feelings were looked after. The nurturing all landed on the omegas’ backs. But here, there seemed to be as much nurturing done by the alphas and betas as there was by myself and the one other omega in the enclave. More, really. I couldn’t imagine being the only omega in a pack, the weight of that responsibility and those expectations, though Mac’s omega cousin Bram said he’d never felt it.
Speaking of… “Is Bram meeting us at the garden?”
“He’s already there. I left him with your plan for the lettuce rows you wanted dug up and reseeded.”
What? “Why didn’t you wake me when you got up?” I demanded, and hurried past him to get to the bathroom. Little Mac had woken up and was doing some sort of hip-hop routine on my bladder and if I didn’t get there soon, I was going to have a mess to clean up before I got to go to the garden.
Mac caught up to me as I finished, laughing gently while I washed my hands. He wrapped his arms around my waist, his fingers spread wide to cover the curve of my belly. Little Mac kicked and Big Mac laughed again. “Strong. I knew you’d make strong babies.” He turned me around and kissed me.
All thoughts of the garden fled. With a full night’s sleep under my belt, and everything under my belt recently emptied, it occurred to me that we hadn’t had any sort of bedroom exercise since Little Mac got big enough to ram his head into my liver while stomping on my bladder.
The garden could wait a while longer.
I shuffled forward, guiding him backward out of the bathroom, my mouth hungry on his. He huffed in surprise, but didn’t complain when I pulled his shirt out of his pants and started undoing the buttons. Hard muscle under my hands, and I was ready to have him in the hall, but Little Mac made something like that more problematic than it used to be.
Of course, I was already naked, and I took full advantage of that, rubbing any part of me that could reach against his warm skin. At some point in this pregnancy, I knew I’d be a whale, but right now I was still regaining the weight I’d lost to the morning sickness and, aside from Little Mac’s bump, I was still as slim as I had been when I was single.
Mac’s hands ran down my back to cup my ass while we backed through the door. I undid the fastenings of his pants and shoved them down his legs. He stumbled getting his feet out of them, and fell on the bed.
“Why, Mac, what a fantastic idea,” I said, with a sarcastic grin. “I do believe I’ll join you there.”
He laughed—so gorgeous—and crab-walked into the middle of the mattress. “Come here, beautiful.” He pulled me down beside him and caught me up in a passionate kiss. His hands glided over my skin, pulling us belly to belly. Little Mac was pretty worked up and we laughed we kissed and sucked and Little Mac demanded to know what the hell was going on. Mac rolled me onto my back and laid a trail of kisses from my neck, across my chest, down over the curve of my belly, trying to catch all the bumps and thumps of Little Mac. “Kissing them better,” he told me, his eyes rich with love as he watched me gasp and squirm with desire for him.
Then he moved down farther, and I felt him take my cock in his mouth. I gasped, this time in shock. “Mac!”
He reappeared over the horizon of my swollen womb. “I like it, and you do too. Hush, lie back and obey your alpha.”
“Like that’s ever going to happen,” I muttered, but I did as I was told. I did like it, but I was still getting past the long-whispered rule that it was the omega’s job to please, particularly in bed. The old beliefs still popped up every once in a while, usually when I was most vulnerable. Like now, with Mac licking his way up and down my cock, teasing at the head and sucking me into the warm tightness of his mouth. I twisted my hands into the bedclothes and strained with the effort not to thrust into him, to try to take by force what he gave me so willingly.
Four months, and I knew for sure now that I loved him. I’d arrived here desperate, willing to mate for the promise of safety and security, and instead I’d found my fairy tale. I unwrapped one hand from the twisted sheets and reached down, fingertips brushing against his cheek as he moved. He raised his own hand and twined his fingers in mine, a strong hold to keep me from flying apart.
“Oh, Mac,” I moaned, shifting my legs restlessly. Little Mac had quietened, but his restlessness had somehow transferred to me. “Mac, please, I need…” My voice trailed off. I still didn’t know how to tell him things I needed, not really. I could hint, and leave clues, but when it came to outright asking, I was all omega.
But he’d learned to read me over the four months we’d lived together. “You’re close?” he asked, his voice husky and deep, with a thread of his power inside it.
I nodded wildly, watching the ceiling, trying to ignore my body. “I want you inside me.”
“You’re not too far along?”
“That’s a myth. Please, Mac.” I raised my head and stared at him pleadingly.
“All right,” he whispered, and kissed his way up my belly again. He grabbed one of the pillows and hel
ped me push it beneath my hips. I needed the boost now, to open myself to him. He kissed me deeply, then pushed inside far too slowly for my liking. I groaned a protest into his mouth, forcing my hips up, trying to take him all at once.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.
I laughed. “Are you forgetting the full moon a month ago?” We’d gone, like good little citizens, to the monthly party the pack held. It was potluck, with everyone contributing. Then there’d been dancing, and I’d teased Mac until he chased me into the woods to deal with my ‘un-omega-like’ behavior. And we hadn’t made it back out again until morning, missing both the moon and the run.
It had been glorious.
This could be glorious too, if he’d stop trying to protect me. I was in no way far enough along that it would be dangerous or uncomfortable, though if he didn’t get a move on, I’d have to pee again before we were done. I decided to go a little full moon on him this morning, and I began to twist and grind my hips in the same way that I’d seen the young delta wolves doing at the full moon party.
He groaned and pressed his face against my chest. “Fuck, when you do that.”
“Mmmm,” I hummed and continued to do it. He’d turn the tables on me soon enough, but I was going to enjoy my brief bout of power. “How about this?” I twisted and squeezed with the muscles of my ass at the same time, cradling his head against my chest because I just loved the feel of his coarse red hair against my nipples, especially now that they were becoming more sensitive. Hormones, Adelaide said. Bonus, was what I thought, and I twisted my chest to get more of the delicious feeling.
Mac laughed and began to ride me in earnest. He braced his arms on either side of me and swung his hips with a solid power that made me feel both loved and owned. I clutched at him as the pleasure built inside me once more, like it had on our first night, digging my heels into the hollow under his ass and gasping for air as he hit that spot inside me over and over. The world disappeared, and there was only me and Mac and the rising tide of ecstasy that was about to carry us away.
And then the wave crashed over us and we both cried out with the joy of it. I held him close as he came back to himself, and kissed him with all the love of my heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
After all that, we needed a shower, and I—of course—needed to pee. Adelaide called it the result of a high metabolic load—I called it a pain in the ass.
Mac met me in the kitchen, with breakfast already cooking on the stove. Eggs and bacon, coffee for him, and tea steeping in a mug for me.
“I should be doing that,” I said, moving to put slices of bread in the toaster. “Alphas shouldn’t be waiting on omegas.”
“I want to. You’re my omega. Why do you think that anyway? I know you guys tend to be nurturers, but I’m not seeing the problem.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly unwilling to sit while he was standing. “I don’t want to displease you.”
“Woah!” He left off poking at the bacon and turned to put his hands on my shoulders. “Why are you suddenly worried about that?”
The floor became intensely interesting. “You’ve been really good about it, but I know I should be doing more here.” Memories of lessons in my tiny class of omegas, days and years of learning the best way to remove stains and how to cook a brisket twenty different delicious ways. How to be organized and make do. My responsibilities as an omega. Later, vague discussions about the bedroom and what I should expect. And then there was the urge to look after him that I could never quite ignore, even during that month when I spent more time with the toilet than I did with him. It was hard to tease the two apart, know what was natural to me and what was a result of my training. I couldn’t go by Bram—as an unmated omega with no one to teach him how to behave, he had a frightening amount of freedom here, except for his season in the fall. But I’d been raised pretty strangely too.
I looked up to see Mac watching me with those sharp blue eyes of his. He probably knew more about me than I did myself. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
“That I’m not a very good omega. I argue with you, and don’t keep the house as clean as I should and—” I dissolved in tears and slumped onto the floor. “I’m sorry!” I wailed and sobbed harder.
“Fuck,” he muttered, then his arms surrounded me and I was sitting on his lap, a disgusting mess of tears and snot. “I guess the rest of it was just the lead up.”
“To what?” I blubbered, burying my face in his chest.
“Mood swings.” He laughed and rubbed my back. “Get it out, then we’ll go to the garden. I’ve got a surprise there for you.”
“A surprise.” The mention of a surprise started to beat back the tears. “What surprise?”
“Not much of a surprise if I tell you, is it? Have your cry, then we’ll eat and go.” He stood up and put me on my feet, but held me close with one arm while he scooped our breakfast out of the pan with the other. I cuddled close, hiccupping occasionally and wiping away the tears that still streaked down my face, and Mac just held me while our breakfast got cold.
I blew my nose into a paper towel and tossed it in the garbage. “I think I’m better now. I hate hormones.”
“I don’t mind. Sit, I’ll bring breakfast over.”
I started to protest, but he gave me an alpha look, and I meekly took my tea over to my chair and sat. Moments later, a plate of bacon and eggs landed in front of me and Little Mac gave a kick, reminding me that he was hungry too.
“I saw that,” Mac said. “He’s a feisty little bugger. Kind of like his bearer.”
“Hmmm,” I said through a full mouth. It was so nice to be hungry and be able to eat. And I really wanted to eat. Like, all the time. You couldn’t have a strawberry within smelling distance of me or I ate it. Ditto with the homemade cheese one of the pack members made, and barbecued pork. Often all at the same time. I was pretty sure I’d be horrified at my eating habits once the baby came, but right now, I didn’t care.
Mac put my toast in front of me, slathered with strawberry jam he’d traded for with another of the pack members. I hadn’t realized how much of their own food they made themselves, or how much more they wanted to, until Mac started catering to my crazy cravings. That was when I started tracking how much money they saved by growing food for themselves, and comparing it to Montana Border, where we were beholden to the human community for everything, and all we had was the money the government gave us and what the few of us with valuable skills could earn outside walls.
Mercy Hills was way better.
My appetite took that moment to completely desert me. The thought of going back to Montana Border—no matter how many time Mac and Abel told me it wouldn’t happen, I couldn’t trust it not to happen—I’d rather be dead than mate there. And I would be mated, if I went, there was no doubt about that. Bram was looking into pack records, and what little history had been recorded, trying to find out the truth behind my mother’s naming me as a True Omega, and Montana Border’s determination to have me back.
“Did I make too much?” Mac asked.
I shook my head.
He pulled his chair next to me and sat down. “You having another mood swing? Plenty of hugs available over here if you need them.”
“I was just thinking about Montana Border.” I wouldn’t call it home. This was home, right here, this little house, with its pack-made furniture and a red-headed alpha male watching me with concern. “It’s okay. I just start thinking about how much better it is here, and I get a little scared.” I summoned up a smile and forced myself to pick up my fork. “I’m better now. All I have to do is look at you and I know it’ll be all right.” And, funnily enough, it did feel that way. My appetite returned, and I dug into my bacon. “This is sooo good.”
Mac kissed me on the ear, and went back to his own breakfast. “You wait until you see your surprise. This is nothing.”
With that to look forward to, I cleaned my plate in record time and had the dishes
washed and dried in time for Mac to hand me his. He leaned against the counter, watching me, while he chewed on his last strip of bacon. “We should get a dishwasher.”
I laughed. “You have one.”
He grimaced. “You know I don’t think of you that way.”
I put his plate in the cupboard and gave the counter a final wipe with the dishtowel. “I know. I like looking after you. It’s an omega thing.” I hung the towel up to air dry and turned to find him studying me. “What?”
“You don’t mind being omega?”
Oh, so that was what was going on. “Is this about the waterworks earlier? That’s not how I normally am, though I realize you can’t know that, since I’ve pretty much been pregnant since we met.” He grinned at that thought, obviously remembering exactly how I’d gotten pregnant. I had to admit, I was pretty fond of those memories too. Maybe we could take a pass on the garden today… No. He had a surprise for me. “I like who I am. I just don’t like dealing with the way people think I am. Just like not all alpha are aggressive, selfish assholes.” I popped a kiss onto his lips and flirted at him with my eyelashes and the tiniest of smiles. Not that I was fantastic at it, but practice makes perfect, and I’ll admit I was jealous of the way Bram could flick an eyebrow and have alphas falling all over themselves.
It didn’t work, and I went back to being my boring self with a sigh. “We’d better get going. Who knows what kind of mischief Bram’s getting into. He’s probably lying around on beach chair working on his tan, while half-a-dozen alphas and betas screw up my garden on his behalf.” I started to walk past Mac to get my shoes on, but he caught my arm. My heart gave one hard thump, then remembered that this was Mac, not an alpha from my old pack. I looked up at him in confusion. “What’s up?”
“You don’t see me like that, do you?” He looked truly worried.
“No. You’ve never been like that. Even the night you caught me in the woods, I wasn’t scared. Not more than I usually was.” I stood on tiptoe and kissed him, longer this time. “I love you.” I don’t think I’d said before, which was stupid of me. He deserved to hear it.
Mating the Omega (MM Gay Shifter Mpreg Romance) (Mercy Hills Pack Book 1) Page 12