The Omega's Secret Pregnancy

by Anna Wineheart

  A second later, Kade’s thigh presses against the back of his own—one of the ways they’d curled up in bed together years ago. Felix relaxes into his alpha’s embrace, feeling far more at ease than he had on the couch.

  He falls asleep without even realizing it.

  43

  Kade

  Kade wakes to a mellow lavender scent in his nose. His sheets wrap around him like a warm embrace, and he wants to sleep in, even though his alarm’s beeping like a stupid cricket that needs to shut up.

  He reaches over to slap it off, and freezes. There’s something—someone—in his arms. Someone slender and familiar, and it feels like Felix. His eyes snap open.

  The mop of blond hair kindles something painful in him. The fine, wispy strands, the way they curl just a little at the ends.

  Kade hits the snooze button on the clock, five, ten times, his heart thudding in his chest. When had Felix climbed into bed with him? Because he’s asleep, his breathing slow and even, his limbs loose.

  Slowly, Kade curls back around his bondmate, his chest to Felix’s back. Maybe Felix had been lonely last night. And it says something about them, doesn’t it, if Felix can climb into bed with him and he never once woke?

  It’s been five years since Felix slept in with him. Five and a half, if he wants to get technical about it, but it’s been too long since he’s held his bondmate. So he props himself up on an elbow, traces his wrist over Felix’s forehead, down his temple to his cheek, his clavicle, his chest. Felix’s shirt drags beneath his wrist, then rises up at his stomach. Kade pauses.

  It’s not his child. But Felix is his, and he should protect the child too, shouldn’t he?

  He follows Felix’s belly with his fingers, the swell of it up to his navel, then down to his groin. There’s a second heartbeat in there somewhere.

  Felix stirs. Kade stills, his fingers low on his bondmate’s abdomen. He should have asked permission first. But Felix sucks in a breath, his eyelids fluttering open, and it’s too late for Kade to pull his hand away.

  “Kade?” Felix murmurs, his voice raspy with sleep. His nostrils flare, and he slides his hand over his belly, bumping into Kade’s fingers.

  Kade stops breathing.

  Felix blinks, looking down. Kade should really pull his hand away, except he’s not hiding things, he’s not lying. If he touched Felix, then Felix should know.

  Felix sucks in a sharp breath, glancing around, then up, meeting his eyes. “Kade?”

  He lifts his hand then, an inch away, his heart thudding. “May I touch it?”

  His bondmate gulps, blinking rapidly. “Yes. Yes, of course you can.”

  And Kade gently sets his palm on Felix’s belly, smoothing over the curve of it. Then he slips his fingers under Felix’s shirt, trailing his fingers over Felix’s warm skin, up over that dark line of his abdomen.

  His bondmate has a child. It’s not his. But he can touch Felix’s belly without flinching, and he strokes his hand up, all the way to Felix’s stomach. Then back down, over the bump, and there’s a baby in there that Kade will accept as his own.

  “I’ll protect both you and the baby,” Kade says, his hand gentle on Felix’s abdomen.

  Felix opens his mouth, as though he’s about to say something, but no words spill from his lips. He swallows, choking, tears welling in his eyes. “Oh, Kade. I didn’t think—I thought you’d...”

  Kade reaches around, turning Felix over to face him. Then he pulls his bondmate close, leaning in to kiss his damp eyelashes. “I told you,” he says. “I’ll protect it.”

  Felix curls his hands into Kade’s shirt. His face crumples, and Kade holds him close, stroking his hair.

  Three hours later, Kade follows his bondmate into the department store. He almost took Felix to a different one, but the one they arrive at is the biggest in Meadowfall, and they probably have the widest selection of baby clothes.

  He breathes in deep and turns them into the baby clothes section, where he’d found Felix and Taylor a month ago. Felix had trembled, fallen apart when he said the baby isn’t Kade’s.

  Next to him, Felix glances at the racks of tiny dresses, his eyes growing dark. He can’t say It’s fine. It’s not. But the jealousy is a dull scrape in his throat now, instead of the angry simmer a month ago.

  “I don’t need too many,” Felix says. “The baby will outgrow them really fast.”

  “So... three pieces?”

  “I suppose. I read an article that said, ‘When in doubt, buy a larger size.’”

  They turn into the baby clothes section the moment they reach it, instead of walking further to the summer dress rack. Felix touches the shirts. “We’re looking for the onesies right now, I think. I want something soft.”

  Kade reaches out for a striped one-piece outfit, with snap-buttons on the sides and flowers printed on its feet. And it’s tiny, just slightly bigger than his hand. Can he even hold a baby that size without breaking it? Are all newborns that small?

  Felix wanders over, raising his eyebrows. “Something wrong?”

  “It’s damn tiny,” Kade says. He doesn’t remember his brothers being this small. But the bump at Felix’s belly is the size of the onesie in his hand. How much bigger will he be at nine months? Can his body hold a baby that size?

  Pregnancies are riskier for male omegas, the doctor had said.

  Kade swallows. Felix has been fine so far.

  “It’ll grow bigger,” Felix says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “If you look at the labels, you’ll see them grouped according to their ages. Like these are for infants up to three months, and those are for children six to nine months old. See, isn’t this one adorable?”

  Felix holds up a pastel purple onesie, with a picture of a whale printed on its front. His eyes glow with warmth, and he looks more at ease, better than he had when he first walked into the store. To the bump in his belly, he says, “I’m sure it’ll look great on you.”

  Kade sucks in a deep breath, then blows it out. Maybe they can put that day behind them, when Kade had turned and left Felix at the store. The pregnancy doesn’t bother Kade now. He’s touched Felix’s baby bump. They’re shopping for baby clothes. If the baby is as tiny as these clothes are, then Kade will be extra careful when he holds it.

  “It’s not bad,” Kade says, picking up an egg-yellow piece. He stretches its tiny sleeves between his fingers, feeling the give of soft cotton, imagining it around a delicate, tiny wrist. “Think this will look better?”

  “I like that too.” Felix beams. He leans in, his shoulder pressing lightly against Kade’s arm. Then he glances down. “What do you think? Do you want the yellow one too?”

  “Are you making up answers for it?” Kade asks, nudging him.

  “I’m not.” Felix grins. “I’m just talking to it. I think it’ll get used to hearing my voice.”

  And Kade can’t help admiring his omega. Despite how he hadn’t wanted his pregnancy, Felix isn’t running from it. He’s making decisions for the child, adapting to it in his life, and Kade is proud of him. For standing up, for being brave.

  “You’ll make a great dad,” Kade says.

  Felix blinks rapidly, a flush rising on his cheeks. And Kade leans in, pressing a kiss to his temple.

  That night, as Kade’s pulling the sheets over himself, a soft knock comes at the door.

  “Yeah?” Kade says, sitting up.

  Felix peers into the dark room, meeting his gaze. “You’re not asleep yet?”

  “Something wrong?” Kade pauses, scanning him.

  Felix is in a loose shirt and shorts, and his eyes are hesitant. He pushes the door open wider, and the soft glow of the laptop screen lights the curve of his abdomen. He steps into the room. “I wondered if I could maybe... share your bed?”

  Kade’s breath snags in his throat. “You have to ask?”

  Felix takes a step back. “You don’t want me to?”

  Kade sighs, scooting over to make space for Felix. It’s a queen bed—no
t big or anything, but they’ll both fit on it. He pats the dip in the mattress. “Come over. I’m not saying it twice.”

  Felix smiles. He closes the door, padding over to the bed, and beneath the scent of his shampoo, Kade smells lavender. The mattress indents under Felix’s weight. Kade holds up the sheets for him, and he burrows under.

  Kade tucks the sheet around his omega, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “Better here?”

  Felix’s eyes widen, and red sweeps through his cheeks. “Yeah. I mean, the couch isn’t bad, but... it’s better here.”

  With you, Felix doesn’t say, but it hangs in the space between them.

  You want this, Kade realizes. His pulse eases into a steady thrum, and he curves his arm around Felix, pulling him close. He’s not sure why Felix is willing to stay with him now, but he’s not questioning it, if it’ll keep his omega by his side.

  “A goodnight hug?” Felix slips his arms around Kade’s back, careful. “I’ll try not to bother you while you sleep.”

  Kade rolls his eyes. “What did I say about bothering?”

  Felix laughs softly, looking away. “That I don’t bother you, I suppose.”

  “Yeah, that. Remember it.” But Kade’s grinning when he settles into his side of the bed, pulling the sheets up over them.

  For a while, they don’t speak. The laptop hums, and Kade looks up at the shadowy ceiling, listening to Felix breathe.

  “Thanks for buying the clothes today,” Felix murmurs. He turns onto his side with a rustle of fabric, facing Kade. “You didn’t have to.”

  Kade shrugs. “I’ll help.”

  And Felix sighs, leaning in. He shifts closer, wrapping one arm around Kade’s waist. The bump of his abdomen presses against Kade’s forearm. “You deserve the very best person in the world,” Felix whispers, nuzzling into his shoulder.

  Which is you, isn’t it? Kade wants to say, but he doesn’t want to disrupt this new peace between them. So he turns, pulling Felix closer to himself. It feels as though he needs to say something, though. After five minutes, Kade asks, “What about you?”

  Felix breathes gently against him, his chest rising and falling.

  “Felix?”

  But his omega doesn’t answer, and a heartbeat later, Kade realizes he’s already asleep.

  44

  Kade

  18 Years Ago

  A few months after Kade turns twelve, he presents as an alpha.

  It doesn’t feel like much. He smells like himself in one class, and in the next, he smells like pine and cedar, and the kids around him start to look over. When he passes by Mrs. Mulberry’s desk, she pushes her glasses up her nose and says, “My, we’ve got a new alpha here. When you get home later, remind your parents to go through the expected customs with you.”

  Kade grins, standing taller. His dad has been predicting it for the past few months, and his mom guessed it two years ago. He salutes and steps out into the hallway, heading for the art classroom.

  When the wooden door opens, a stream of students flows into the corridor. Some glance over at Kade, but most are eager to head for home. Kade squeezes into the classroom, spotting Felix in the far corner, tucking his brushes back into his bag.

  “Felix!” Kade calls.

  “Keep your voice down,” the art teacher says, but Kade’s running down between the desks, waving his arms.

  “Guess what,” Kade breathes. Felix’s eyes widen when Kade’s five desks away, his nostrils flaring. “Guess what, guess what, guess what?”

  “Oh gods,” Felix says, his mouth falling open. He leaves his watercolors on his desk, hurrying over to meet Kade halfway. “You have a smell!”

  “I’ve always had a smell,” Kade says, but he straightens his back, puffing his chest out.

  Felix stops inches away, green eyes roving over him. “You don’t look different,” he says. “But your smell—you smell so good, Kade.” He leans in, sniffing deeply, breathing out, sniffing again, and his eyelids flutter shut. “Mm. I could smell you for hours.”

  Kade brings his hand up, showing Felix the wrist with the silvery scar. “It’s strongest here.”

  Felix presses his nose to Kade’s wrist, his breath puffing humid against Kade’s skin. “Oh, wow.”

  “I want to smell you forever,” Kade says, grinning. Sure, he smells like pine and cedar now, but Felix’s scent is still the best. “You smell like lavender,” he says. “Sweet, but not like honey. Just right.”

  Felix blushes, lowering his gaze. He turns back to his desk and packs up the rest of his pencils. “You’re just being nice.”

  “No, I’m not. And I can prove it.”

  Felix laughs. “How?”

  “By marrying you.”

  Felix giggles, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Sure.”

  “Just wait,” Kade says. “I’ll get you a ring.”

  “Are we allowed to marry if we’re twelve?” Felix asks. They head down through the hallways to the playground, and no one bothers them. Kade has built them a reputation among the school kids, breaking the bullies who dare touch Felix. Felix is a lot happier for it—his cheeks rosy, his eyes sparkling, and he’s stopped hunching over.

  “Maybe not twelve. But soon.” Kade slips his hand into Felix’s, savoring the way his skin clings to his bondmate’s, the way Felix steps closer and bumps into him.

  “I’ll be expecting a ring,” Felix says. He pulls his hand out of Kade’s, running backward and blowing a raspberry. “Race you to the sand pit!”

  “The race is on,” Kade yells, and Felix laughs, dashing away.

  45

  Felix

  Present Day

  Over the next month, they settle into a routine.

  In the mornings, Kade turns off the alarm clock. When Felix wakes, he finds Kade at his computer, keys tapping away. That happens when Kade has a project due, or when Felix oversleeps. Sometimes, when Felix crawls out of bed, the sheets rustle off his skin, and Kade turns to look at him, a tiny smile curving his mouth.

  When he crawls out of bed, Felix helps Mrs. Brentwood with breakfast. Kade eats with them, and when he shuts himself away to work, Felix weeds in the garden, or paints a new series of watercolors—flowers and succulents.

  Twice a week, Kade accompanies Felix to the park. They bring along Felix’s easel and watercolors, and while Kade taps away on his laptop, Felix paints.

  “You never talked about rent,” Felix says in the park one day, halfway through a painting. They’ve never mentioned it, and Felix has been waiting for Kade to demand payment, somehow.

  “Do we need to?” Kade glances up from his screen, dappled sunlight falling on his face.

  “Yes.”

  But Kade shrugs, looking back down. “Twenty bucks?”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “You asked. I decided.”

  Felix shakes his paintbrush at him. How can Kade not ask for more? “That’s not fair to you. I should decide on a fair amount.”

  “The fair amount is zero,” Kade says, meeting his eyes steadily.

  “Why?” Because it doesn’t make sense. Kade has put up with him, let him sleep in his bed, and... Oh. “The sex paid for it?”

  Kade rolls his eyes. “No. I told you, it’s free if you stay in my room.”

  Well, he’d forgotten about that bit. Felix grumbles, daubing aquamarine splotches for water under a bridge. The baby moves in his belly. He sets a hand on it, feeling it squirm, and his spine aches a little. “I’ve gained weight.”

  “You look fine,” Kade says, glancing up from his laptop. His gaze rakes over Felix, as though he can see through Felix’s loose shirt and pants. Felix shivers.

  When they walk home after, the sun glares down on them, and the air around shimmers with heat. Kade hefts Felix’s easel under one arm, his laptop in the other. By the time they step through the front door, Kade’s skin glistens. Felix can’t help sniffing at his musk, leaning in to lick at the fresh sweat on his throat. He wants Kade pressed up against
him, wants Kade’s scent all over his skin.

  “I’m gonna shower,” Kade says, setting the easel down just inside the foyer. His eyes darken. “Join me if you want.”

  “I’ll grab a change of clothes,” Felix says, staring when Kade strips the tank top off his chest, his pectorals flexing. “See you in a bit.”

  Kade smirks, reaching over to squeeze his ass, before brushing by in a whirl of cedar and pine.

  I should hurry. Felix swallows, stepping toward the bedroom. Kade’s waiting upstairs.

  He grabs a change of clothes from the closet: pants and a shirt for Kade, and the same for himself. And maybe he should toss the bed sheets in the washer while he remembers; they’d stayed up late last night, Kade working him through three straight orgasms.

  He pauses at the corner of the bed, thinking about the way Kade bent him over, sliding inside him, one hand reaching around to stroke his cock. Then they’d lounged around in bed, Felix almost nodding off, until Kade leaned in, taking his cock into his mouth. Felix shivers, reaching down to rub himself through his pants.

  The bed sheets. They’re stained, with bits of dried cum scattered around, and they really should be washed. It’ll take thirty seconds to pull them off.

  Felix sets the clean clothes on the desk, heaving one corner of the mattress up. Maybe he should have asked Kade for help, but they’ll probably get distracted on the bed again, and the sheets are filthy. The corner of the fitted sheet comes off. He steps over to the other corner, reaching under the mattress.

  His fingers bump into something cool and soft. Frowning, Felix slides his hand further along the bed frame, curling his fingers around the metal thing. It yields under his fingers like water, but there are ridges to it, like several tiny links.

  It’s a chain, he realizes, sweeping it up.

  He crouches and pulls his fist out from under the mattress, his belly brushing against his thighs. Then, he uncurls his fingers, staring at the heavy chain in his palm. It’s silvery like steel, the links thick and dense. Kade had been wearing it for the past few months. Why did you take it off?