As if that would ever be a problem. Especially with the three of us.
I’m honestly curious to see how Mason behaves during Hudson’s cycle. He’s dominant and aggressive with Alex, but he’s gentle and loving with me. How will he be with Hudson? Will I see yet another side of my mate?
“Time for bed,” Mason says like he’s the father figure.
I mean, yeah, he’s pack lead, but he’s barely older than the two of us.
Alex lifts his hand and flips him the bird, then smirks when Mason releases a soft but deep warning growl.
I’m too tired for their shenanigans tonight. Alex loves to goad our mate into releasing pent up energy. Which means they’ll not only be up a little longer but will be too loud for me to simply roll over and fall asleep.
“Sleeping in my bed tonight,” I mutter, stealing one more glance at Hudson before turning and heading to my bedroom.
It’s not often we sleep separately, but it’s also not that big a deal. Everyone needs a little space sometimes, a little privacy. We work together, carpool to the office together, even work on most the same cases together.
It won’t hurt any of us if I slide under the duvet on my bed for one night.
I can’t wait until we all finally crawl into bed with Hudson. That pack bed has been unused for far too long.
If my mates reply, I don’t hear it as I pad silently across the omega quarters, down the hall and to my bedroom.
Even behind the closed door, Hudson’s scent clings to me. His pheromones are so heightened as his heat creeps in. I wonder if that means he’s got days rather than a week or so. Will we have enough time to arrange everything in time?
There’s no choice. I refuse to allow Hudson to suffer when we’ve promised him the moon. He might not be our omega, but he’s our omega for now.
He’s our responsibility and he’s literally the maker of our dreams.
Of course, there is the fear he might not be fertile, or that, for some reason, our biology doesn’t mesh and he isn’t able to conceive. But that really doesn’t matter; I will forever be thankful for him for simply agreeing to this.
Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me that he’s being paid – he agreed. Dozens of others have passed through the years, but something in Hudson’s heart told him to agree.
If he chooses to hand the child over and walk away, I’ll personally ensure he’ll forever have anything and everything he could ever want or need. And if he wants to visit our child, be a part of their life in any capacity, we’ll support it just as we’d told him.
I’m surprised he didn’t have more questions for us. Nor did he request or require a contract. We have one ready. We’re lawyers – we always have a contract ready.
We should still probably have him sign something to protect him as well as ensure he doesn’t simply walk away with our child. We’re not mated, we’re not bonded. We’d get visitation and have to pay child support, of course, but that isn’t what we’ve wanted for over a damn decade.
Shoving my sweats down my legs, I sit on the edge of the mattress in my boxer briefs. I’m still sporting a semi, but at least my knot isn’t throbbing to my heartbeat.
We should have at least made love to him by now, let him get to know our bodies while learning what he prefers in the bedroom.
Except, we left him alone all day. He had his friend over for a while; we’d each taken turns checking the cameras and texting Amy to make sure he was doing okay while we were away.
That doesn’t negate the fact I feel as though we’re already neglecting him, even though this is only the first day back to work.
There has to be a way we can each take turns cutting back our hours, maybe one week at a time or something. Whether his friend visits regularly or not, omegas need attention, affection, and pheromones from alphas.
Especially if –when.Pleaselet it bewhen– he gets pregnant.
My brain is going in circles. I hate that. It’s why I’ve always preferred to read a little before crashing for the night, but I don’t foresee myself being able to fully focus on the words on the page, not when the scent of tonka bean and sweet plum is literally making a home in my brain and lungs.
As I flop back onto the mattress and pull the duvet up to my chest, I picture Hudson all bundled up under a pile of blankets. If he’s warm, he’ll need to be eased through the preheat waves.
And we won’t be here.
Fuck.
I blink a few times. I rarely curse, even in my own head. But the thought of Hudson suffering even the slightest has me feeling a little panicky.
