He sat up too fast then scrubbed at his face like he could wipe away the memories clawing through his head. “Tell me this is a joke. Tell me this is the part where a vampire gets knocked up is some weird pack hazing thing.” His voice cracked on the last word.
“No joke,” Logan said, watching every twitch of those hands.
Nick made a sound, not quite a laugh, not quite a sob, then shoved both palms against his stomach. “No. No fucking way. You can’t just…do that to a person.”
“You didn’t hear the doctor?” Logan kept his tone level. “He said it’s normal. At least for your bloodline.”
“Bullshit,” Nick spat. “I don’t have a bloodline. I don’t have anything.”
He hunched forward, his head low, his arms wrapped tight around his belly. He looked shellshocked, his body curled up like he could make himself smaller.
Logan waited, counting each shallow breath to see if Nick would get a handle on it or spiral off the ledge.
No such luck. Nick stood and started pacing, his bare feet slapping the wood. He looked like a stray cat backed into a corner, wild and desperate to escape.
He shot Logan a glare. “You did this to me! You…we…that’s not even how it works.”
He doubled over, clutching his stomach harder. “I refuse to believe this. It’s not possible. I’ve had stomach issues my whole life! You’re telling me one night with you and I get…this?” His voice pitched. He was barely holding together.
Logan wanted to tell him it was okay. He wanted to promise he’d fix everything. But no promise would erase how scared Nick was, how rattled.
He kept his mouth shut. He just let Nick pace and get it all out.
Nick didn’t slow. He stalked the room then stopped by the window and pressed his forehead to the glass. “Maybe it’s the bite,” he muttered. “Maybe you’re toxic. Maybe I’m allergic to wolf dick.” That earned a laugh from Logan, but Nick didn’t join in.
He turned around, his eyes huge, his face pale. “Bites don’t get people pregnant,” he whispered.
“Don’t look at me,” Logan said. “You’re the one with the rare bloodline.”
Nick half laughed, half choked, glaring. “I’m not having your child. I’m not even supposed to have children. That’s not…that’s not a thing.”
He went quiet, breathing shallow, eyes darting everywhere. Logan could see the fight and fear building to a boil.
Finally, Nick lost it. One hand slammed into the wall, hard enough to leave a dent. The other pressed against his gut, like he could dig the pain right out.
“No!” he yelled. “This is not my life! You don’t get to break me open and stuff me full of…of…whatever the hell this is.”
His voice dissolved into a broken noise. He stumbled back, his hands trembling, jaw clenched.
Enough.
Logan caught him, his arms going around Nick’s waist, pinning him back against his own body. Nick struggled for a second, but Logan didn’t let go.
“You wanna rage at me, fine,” Logan growled into his ear. “But you’re not doing it alone.”
Nick squirmed, his feet kicking, his head turning away. “Let me go.”
“Not happening.”
Eventually Nick sagged against him, chest heaving like he’d run a marathon. Logan could feel him vibrating with the need to hurt something, maybe even himself.
He buried his nose in Nick’s hair and inhaled deep.
Goddamn. His mate’s scent had changed. It was richer now, sweeter. More alive than before.
Logan tightened his grip, his hand firm on Nick’s belly. He could feel the difference, even through the shirt. Nick was hot and tense, like a power source had lit up inside him.
Nick made another sound, small and wounded, then curled his knees up, letting Logan support all his weight. He hid his face in Logan’s shoulder and shook.
