He’d clearly showered off last night’s chaos, but Mason had been relentless.
My hands thread through his hair and guide his head under the spray. “Is the temperature okay?” I ask as the water turns his hair darker.
“Yeah,” he says before closing his eyes.
That sadness is still in the bond, and I’m not sure how to make it go away. As much as I want to give him everything he wants, I won’t risk his health or our child’s if he’s pregnant.
The moment the doctor gives the all-clear, I’ll personally drive him to the clinic and hold his hand through the procedure.
Even if my instincts tell me it’ll be agonizing the moment the link to Hudson is severed.
My mates and I decided from the beginning that anyone who agreed would be free to walk away at the end. No strings. No expectations.
I’m not sure whether it’s because we’re committed to each other, whether we feel as though our pack is complete – with the exception of not having children – or whether we haven’t met another person who feels as though their presence in our lives feels as natural as Hudson does.
I don’t want to want him.
I don’t want to beg him to keep the bond intact.
And I really don’t want to cause my mates any pain by telling them exactly how I feel.
When another wave of sorrow flows from Hudson, I release a purr as I work the shampoo into his hair.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I’m sorry that happened. As soon as it’s safe, we’ll…do whatever you want.”
I just can’t seem to force my lips to form the wordsdissolve the bondout loud.
Another whimper lifts onto the air along with a burned, bitter change to his scent.
What is making him sad? I thought assuring him we’ll make sure he’s not unwillingly permanently tied to the pack would make him happy. I thought my purrs would comfort his omega impulses.
But there is so much sorrow, so much heartache flowing from him and I’m not sure how to fix it.
All I can do is be here for him until we have to return to the office, hold him, comfort him, purr for him until his scentreturns to that beautiful tonka bean and sweet plum and the warm, sunny sensation of his presence in the bond reappears.
When he’s clean,dry, and his hair is brushed smooth, I can’t help myself – I dress Hudson with the tenderness I’d give my omega, then lift him into my arms. He loops his legs around my waist and his arms around my neck, holding on as I ease down onto the couch in his quarters.
I’ve tried to coach him into joining Mason and Alex downstairs for breakfast, but every time I mention it, he whimpers, and his pretty honey-colored eyes fill with tears.
I suppose all these conflicting emotions could be due to his cycle ending. His hormones have ravaged him for days. It was a few shorter than he’d warned us about.
My hope is that it’s a sign that it worked, that we were able to impregnate him the first cycle.
Or at least I thought it was my only hope. What’s getting to me is when he gets pregnant, after he gives birth, he could simply walk away from us and never look back. We gave him the same choice we gave everyone else – he can choose to be in the child’s life in whatever capacity he chooses, or he can return to his life as it was before he knew we existed.
I don’t want him to leave.
I love Alex. I love Mason. They are my mates.
But if my heart is big enough to love children, why couldn’t it be big enough to love this omega?
I haven’t known him long enough to claim to love him. Falling for someone due to biology is not the same as the deep feelings I carry for my mates.
A growl pushes past the purr at the thought of Mason’s teeth breaking Hudson’s skin. We’d done what we could to stop it. Even when Hudson was begging for a bite, I’d tried to assert at least a touch of my dominance, something I never do.
It hadn’t worked. When Alex and I struggled to pull him away from Hudson, it was too late.
And then he’d tried to attack us any time we got within five feet of the omega.
