by Beau Brown
When he returned to his room, he sat down on the side of the bed.
He felt like the fog was starting to lift. Shock and lack of sleep from the night before had paralyzed him for a few hours, but his natural optimism—or maybe it was just stubbornness—was starting to reassert itself. Yes, he was anxious about the future. He did occasionally feel overwhelmed, even frightened, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t cope any more. Couldn’t take care of himself or the baby. He was coping.
He glanced up at the TV with its seemingly never-ending stream of advertisements featuring speeding sportscars and people holding hands in twin bathtubs. Life was not like the commercials. It was not perfectly timed and perfectly framed. It was awkward and messy and, yes, occasionally, scary. But it was also exhilarating and beautiful and frequently joyous. And that was what he would try to teach his daughter. Him. No one else. This was his responsibility—and he welcomed it. Maybe he wasn’t the perfect father, but he would do his best and love her with all his heart, and that had to count for something.
And as much as he understood and appreciated that everyone was trying to take care of him, that everyone had his welfare in mind…thank-you-but-no-thank-you. The doctors, his parents, Ross… He could see that everyone had the best intentions. But he wasn’t a child and he wasn’t an idiot. Yes, he had made some mistakes, but keeping the baby wasn’t one of them. He wanted this child. Maybe he even needed her. Sure as hell, she needed him.
He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but this was what he wanted. Yes, the road ahead was going to be difficult, but he wasn’t afraid to travel it. Well, not most of the time. In fact, he’d be crazy not to be afraid some of the time.
He spent another few minutes thinking it through, and then he switched off the TV and phoned for a taxi. He found his clothes in a small cupboard near the bed, and began to dress.
Chapter Seven
The house felt strange.
For one thing, it was too quiet. It had never seemed too quiet before, but when Ross turned on the TV, the silence only seemed louder.
Other than the breakfast dishes neatly stacked in the dishwasher, Alex had left no trace. There was no sign that he’d ever been in Ross’s home. Yet Ross could still sense his presence, as though Alex were a ghost. Not a thought he liked. In fact, a shiver of dread rippled down his spine at the thought of Alex dead.
That was a damned silly thought. Alex was perfectly safe. He was in the hospital, for God’s sake. It didn’t get safer than that.
Ross had the Hungry-Man fried chicken dinner in front of the TV. Technically, he was watching football, but the truth was, all he saw was Alex sitting in that examination room, trying to be brave as Ross had backed out.
Yeah, literally backed out.
But what the hell choice had he had?
You could have claimed him.
He sighed. Yeah, he could have claimed him. Was that the best thing for Alex though? Or was it just what Ross wanted? Enough people had taken what they wanted from Alex.
He shoved the rest of his dinner aside, uneaten. It had to be his imagination, but he could still pick up the faintest hint of Alex’s scent. Well, really his aura. That comforting cool green that made Ross think of lying in deep, soft grass and watching the clouds drift by. Or the first tightly furled spring buds.
Alex had been like a fresh breeze stirring through the house. He’d only been there a couple of days, but somehow without him, this place no longer felt like home.
Ross groaned. He was too old for this shit. Too old for Alex. Too old for what claiming Alex would mean.
Which didn’t mean he didn’t want it.
He was silent, thinking it over, deaf to the excitement on the TV set as his team rushed to victory.
Who are you kidding?
Yes, he wanted it. Of course, he wanted it. All of it. Mostly though, he wanted Alex.
When the hell had that happened?
He wasn’t sure. It felt like he’d always wanted Alex. That the only thing that had changed was his admitting it. He wanted—needed—to see Alex’s face, needed to hear his voice, needed to taste his mouth, needed to kiss every single inch of him until Alex was breathless and pleading…for more.
Why had he left him there?
Jesus Christ. The look in Alex’s eyes when he’d realized Ross was abandoning him.
Ross was the crazy one.
He stood up quickly, nearly knocking over his dinner tray. He looked at the clock. It was just about seven. Too late for visiting hours? Probably. Especially when he had no r—the hell with that. In sickness and in health. Alex was his omega and Ross had every right.
He headed for the front door.
* * * * *
Ross was so preoccupied with figuring out how he was going to get in to see Alex—could he claim Alex was a witness in an ongoing investigation?—he was nearly across the hospital parking lot before he recognized Alex standing at the end of the long cement portico.
His heart jumped in his chest, and he immediately changed the angle of his approach.
Alex didn’t seem to notice him. He was watching the parking lot entrance, waiting for someone. Not Ross, clearly, because when he finally noticed Ross coming his way, he stiffened, his expression of joy almost instantly changing to wariness.
“I’m not going back inside,” he warned.
“What are you doing out here?” Ross demanded. He could see that several staff members stood behind the glass doors, watching Alex and talking excitedly to each other. He lifted his hand to signal that everything was okay.
Though maybe not from their perspective.
“They shouldn’t have called you. I have every right to check myself out,” Alex said. “They can’t hold me against my will.”
“Okay,” Ross said, reaching him after what felt like years apart.
The night air was scented of exhaust and imminent rain, but all Ross could smell was that sweet, sexy springtime fragrance of green apples and wild jasmine and deep water. Where the hell had he ever got the idea that Alex smelled withered and dry?
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Alex was saying as Ross took him by the arms.
Ross pulled Alex close—he was going to be very happy once that baby barrier was out of the way—and kissed him.
“No, there isn’t,” Ross said—and kissed Alex’s astonished mouth again.
“R-R-Ross?” Alex stammered when Ross finally stopped kissing him. “What’s going on?”
“Three guesses,” Ross said. “You can tell ‘em to me on the drive home.”
“Home?” Alex said doubtfully. His eyes were wide and dark and shadowy in the dismal glow from the parking lot lights. The hopeful uncertainty Ross read there made his heart hurt. He made a vow then and there to never let Alex down again.
“Home,” Ross said firmly.
* * * * *
His determination to never disappoint Alex again did waver slightly when they tumbled, breathless and disheveled, onto Ross’s bed about forty minutes later. It hadn’t been easy getting Alex up those stairs, and there was something intimidating about the small mountain range lying between them.
“Are you sure this is okay?” Ross asked, undoing the buttons of Alex’s shirt. As each button slid out of its eyelet, he dropped another kiss on Alex’s chest—and with each kiss, Alex gave a little shiver and sigh. “We’re not going to hurt the baby?”
“No. The amniotic sac protects her.” Alex closed his eyes, smiling. He said softly, “I didn’t think I’d ever have this.”
Ross thought of how Reid had been conceived, and his heart seemed to clench with a surge of protective tenderness. “No one’s ever going to hurt you again,” he muttered.
Alex’s eyes opened. He stared up at Ross. His mouth twisted. “Oh. Peters told you.”
“He thought I already knew,” Ross said. “Why didn’t you tell me, Alex? Why did you let me think…”?
Alex continued to gaze up, very serious in the soft lamplight. “I guess partly because I didn
’t want it to matter how it happened.”
“But that’s not fair,” Ross said quietly.
“No. Maybe not. The main reason was—is—I don’t want Reid to ever know. I don’t want her to ever think she wasn’t wanted, wasn’t loved, wasn’t welcomed.”
Astonishingly, Ross felt a prickle behind his eyes. He kissed Alex very gently.
Alex kissed him back, and he tasted so sweet.
This is what happiness tastes like.
Ross’s throat even closed for a moment. When he could speak again, he said carefully, “I’ve met some brave guys in my time. You’re…You didn’t ever think of getting rid—”
“Yeah, I did,” Alex said. “I was angry at first and I hoped…” He drew a sharp breath. “I’m not even sure when my feelings changed. And maybe if she’d been a boy, it would have been different. But none of it’s her fault, Ross, and I do want her now. I do love her now.”
“I know,” Ross said. “We won’t talk about it again, unless you want to.”
Anyone else and he’d have been urging them to report it, to make sure the rapists were found and brought to justice. Date rape, or whatever you wanted to call it, wasn’t just high spirits or harmless, boyish fun. Those assholes needed to pay—but not at Alex’s expense.
Tears filled Alex’s eyes. “Thank you. Thanks for understanding.”
It shamed Ross that understanding had taken him as long as it had, but he’d got there eventually. And learned something on the journey.
“Don’t cry.” He kissed Alex’s tears. “From now on the only tears will be happy tears. I promise.”
Alex nodded, tilting his face to find Ross’s mouth and kiss him back.
They kissed for a long time.
Until that night Ross had always considered kissing as a necessary courtesy, not so different from shaking hands on a business agreement, but kissing Alex was different, so satisfying, so pleasurable, it seemed like an end in itself. He’d never let himself think about what Alex would taste like, the soft acquiescent sounds he might make, his quick and eager responses. Alex’s kisses were triggering some quick and eager responses from Ross too.
“Angel,” Ross muttered, and Alex laughed. A low, sexy little sound. Wicked angel maybe.
“Take me, Ross. I love you so much.”
Alex said it so softly, so sincerely, it seemed to pierce Ross’s heart. Was Alex really, truly okay with this? He couldn’t bear to hurt him after what he’d been through. He could wait. He would rather wait than give Alex one second of hurt or distress.
“There’s no rush,” Ross reassured. “We can go slow.”
Alex stopped squirming in that sinuous, sensuous way and raised his head. “The hell,” he protested.
“There are a lot of really...nice things we can do together. I’ll show you.”
“And I’ll like that a lot,” Alex said. “But tonight I need you, Ross. I need to know I belong to you. I want you to take me. I’m not afraid. Not with you. Not ever.”
Ross’s heart skipped a beat. Claiming. That’s what he meant. Like he had read Ross’s mind. Was it fair to claim him tonight? He’d been through so much that day. Would Ross be taking advantage?
“I love you,” Alex said softly, almost pleadingly.
It was hard enough to deny himself. Denying Alex was just not possible. So Ross helped Alex onto his side, doing all he could to accommodate that large, unwieldy body. Alex was smiling, eyes gleaming, half his face in shadow as he gazed up. “You won’t hurt me. Don’t worry. I used to dream about this.”
Delight flooded Ross at that shy admission. He was acutely aware of the softness of the cool cotton sheets, the silky heat of Alex’s skin, the quick, hard beats of his heart. Alex’s heart or his own? Ross wasn’t sure. He couldn’t ever recall feeling so alive, so complete.
He brushed the curls away at the nape of Alex’s neck, kissed him. His slid one slippery finger carefully inside Alex.
Alex let out a soft breath.
“Okay?”
Alex nodded.
“If I hurt you, tell me.”
Alex nodded again, hurriedly.
Ross moved his finger very gently in and out of Alex’s tight little hole.
Alex whimpered and pushed down. “Oh. Feels good.”
“Yeah?”
Alex nodded frantically. “When you touch me...right there. God.”
Ross slid a second finger in, delicately scissoring his fingers, moving this way and that, loosening the quivering muscle. He watched Alex every second, monitoring his reactions, making sure it was pleasure making Alex’s face flush and quiver.
At long last he guided himself into the tight, humid warmth of Alex’s body, slowly, slowly breaching his instinctive resistance.
Alex gave another of those helpless whimpers. “Alpha.”
Alpha.
The word excited Ross, and he had to stop himself from shoving in all the way, thrusting too hard. This was really Alex’s first time and it needed to be perfect.
“Angel,” Ross muttered. “My omega angel.”
Alex reached up, grabbing Ross’s free hand, lacing their fingers together. Ross liked his courage and strength.
Slow. Go slow. Don’t rush him.
“Need you, alpha,” Alex murmured. “Need you so much.”
Christ. That did it. Ross couldn’t help pushing all the way into the tight, hot grip of Alex’s body.
“Okay?” Ross asked thickly.
“God. Yes. Don’t stop. Please, Ross. Please, alpha...”
Ross began to thrust into him. Long, slow strokes at first, and Alex rose to meet them, shoving back. But almost immediately they seemed to lose the rhythm, disintegrating into mutual desperation, and the long, slow thrusts gave way to short, hard punches. Somehow they recovered the tempo, their bodies once more moving in unison, pacing each other, learning each other. It wouldn’t take long, seeing that they’d waited years for it.
Alex held Ross’s hands to his heart, and Ross gripped him hard, feeling the baby moving—maybe better not think about that—it was all he could do not to crush Alex to him. He didn’t want to forget one moment of this, the night he claimed Alex. He was committing every second to memory: the wounded gulps of Alex’s breath, the damp heat of his skin, the shivery, cool scent that was Alex and no one else.
When Ross’s hot mouth closed on the sensitive junction of Alex’s neck and shoulder, Alex gave a glad little cry. Ross bit down, tasting the sharp, coppery tang. Alex made a strange, broken mewling sound and began to come in hot, hard jets.
The alpha had claimed his omega.
Ross instinctively licked and swallowed the drops of blood, thrusting harder—he couldn’t help himself now—fucking Alex faster and deeper until the moment seemed to stretch and stretch and grow timeless—unique and fragile as feathery dandelion seeds disappearing on the breeze—and then Ross too was coming, exquisite relief pulsing in satiny long jets.
It seemed a lifetime later that Ross roused from his dreams to a sweet, sticky heat as Alex stirred in his arms, groaned, and then gasped.
Ross’s eyes flew open. “What?”
Alex’s hands went to the mound of his belly. “Uh-oh.”
“What is it?”
Alex sounded very young. “I think—yeah, I’m sure. My water broke.”
Ross was out of the bed in a flash. “Shit.”
“It’s okay.” Alex sounded calm, if strained. “I think we’ve got some time.”
“This is my fault.”
“Well, no, Ross. Actually…”
“I knew we should have waited.”
Alex said in that same too calm voice. “I didn’t want to wait. I couldn’t have stood waiting.”
“Are you having contractions?”
“Mmhmm.” He was struggling to get out of the bed, and Ross came around to helped him stand. And the crazy thing was Alex felt so warm and right, smelled so good, it was all Ross could do to not drag him back into bed.
“How far
apart are the contractions?”
“I haven’t had time to figure it out.” Alex sucked in a sudden breath, grabbing Ross’s forearm with an unexpectedly fierce grip. “Uh…maybe not that far apart.”
“It’s okay,” Ross told him. He hugged Alex tightly. “I promise everything’s going to be okay from now on.”
Alex rested his head on Ross’s shoulder. “Your heart’s beating so fast,” he murmured.
“It’s not every day I become a father.”
He felt Alex’s smile.
“I want you both,” Ross told him. “Don’t ever doubt it.”
Alex nodded. His thank you was almost inaudible.
“Can you walk?” Ross asked, when the moment stretched.
“Yes. I’m just thinking.”
“Uh, okay. You just have a nice quiet think, angel.”
Alex chuckled, although the sound was a little shaky. “I didn’t have time to buy anything. We don’t have diapers or a crib or anything. I couldn’t really prepare because I was supposed to be considering—”
“I’ve got this,” Ross promised. “You just do your part and I’ll make sure everything else is handled. Deal?”
Alex exhaled a long, not quite steady breath. “Yes, alpha. Deal.”
The rest of the night—not that there was much night left, because the sun was rising as Ross drove into the Sweet Water Medical Center parking lot for the third time in twenty-four hours—passed in a blur.
Ross got Alex quickly through admissions—this was where being the sheriff of a small town came in useful—but then they had to wait for a bed to become available. Apparently, a lot of babies in Sweet Water had the same idea as Reid that night. A gurney was supplied, along with promises that a bed would be ready long before the baby arrived.
Ross helped Alex onto the gurney. “You want to lie back?”
Alex shook his head. One arm curved protectively around his belly. His free hand—ice cold—reached for Ross.
“It’s okay. I’m right here.” Ross wrapped a supportive arm around Alex’s shoulders.
Alex nodded. His blue gaze was riveted on Ross’s. “Promise me. Whatever happens, you won’t let them—anyone—take Reid. Promise you’ll keep her.”
