1
Felix
“It’s over, Felix.”
My alpha mate Larry stood on the other side of the island like a statue, firmly gripping the kitchen counter so hard his knuckles turned white. At first, I didn’t register Larry’s words. Despite him looking me point blank in the face and uttering them with complete clarity, they sailed over my head.
My brain and mouth clashed, and all I mustered was a soft, “What?”
Larry shut his eyes with a harsh sigh. He opened them again and they were narrowed into a cold glare. “I said it’s over. I can’t do this anymore with you.”
Dread settled in my stomach.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. My voice quivered with the heavy knowledge that I knew damn well what he was talking about.
Larry’s gaze didn’t falter. “This arrangement between us. It’s done.” He paused a beat. “I’m sure you can understand why.”
Barren.
That was the word that flashed, bright and angry, against my shut eyes. For whatever reason, my body just could not bear a child.
At first, it seemed like a joke. Infertile omegas were truly rare, especially ones as young and healthy as I was--it couldn’t be true.
But time and time again, Larry’s and my attempts at conceiving a child resulted in failure. The truth stared us in the face.
Now, the man in front of me seemed like a stranger. Anger and disappointment radiated off him like tangible waves of heat. He was serious about this. I shrunk under his glare.
“I don’t understand,” I murmured. “I - I know I can’t have kids, but why does our relationship have to end?”
Larry said nothing, but the corners of his frown deepened and there was a cold glint in his eyes.
I was naively encouraged by his silence to continue. “We can always adopt, or--”
“Adopt?” Larry snapped. “I’m not taking someone else’s kid. Are you crazy, Felix?”
His biting words stunned me.
“No, Larry, I’m not,” I tried to say gently. “But isn’t this an overreaction?”
Larry pushed off the counter. He trudged around the kitchen with heavy movements that stirred the tension in the air.
“I’m sick of this,” he muttered. “Sick of trying to have kids with you.”
The dread in my gut churned into slow panic. “What are you saying?”
“I told you already. It’s over.”
Fear overtook my frustration, and soon I was trembling. I shakily rose to my feet and tried to approach him. Maybe he just needed time. Maybe I could soothe him.
But when I reached for an embrace, he knocked my hand away. I gasped softly.
“Don’t touch me,” Larry said. “What did I just say? We’re over. Not in a relationship anymore.”
This can’t be happening.
I felt like the floor was crumbling beneath my feet, and the only thing below me was a yawning chasm of despair.
“Our parents--” I began to say, but Larry cut me off.
