Slowly, he heard them wake. Water ran through the pipes, toilets flushed. Micah ran out of food to busy himself with, so he pulled bacon out, nudging the rashers as they sizzled on the pan.
With each passing moment, his anxiety grew. He heard footfalls in the rooms, he heard voices. He forced himself to breathe. He cracked some eggs into another pan, and one splattered all over the stove. The other eggs sizzled.
Kai and Spike stepped into the hallway—Micah heard the low rumble of their voices. Then York stepped out of his room; Micah could tell, from the way Kai and Spike’s conversation stopped abruptly. Strained greetings. A little better than before.
Micah smelled the powdery cosmetics on his face. He barely felt the weight of it on his scars. He stared at the cooking food, and tried not to panic. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this. Maybe I should wash it off before they get in.
They entered the kitchen before he could—footfalls and rustles of clothes, and Micah stopped breathing. He couldn’t move at all.
Strong arms wrapped around his waist. Spike leaned in, kissing Micah on the neck, where Kai’s bonding mark was.
“Morning,” Spike murmured, kissing up his ear.
There was another hand on his waist—Kai, greeting Micah silently before he moved to grab a mug.
Spike sniffed, then stilled against Micah, his eyes sharpening. “Micah? What’s wrong?”
I need to relax. Micah moved his arm, but it felt forced. “I’m fine.”
Spike turned him around. Panic fluttered in Micah’s throat; Kai had turned to look, too.
When he realized that all three of them were now looking at him, Micah forced a smile. “H-hi.”
Gods, he almost pissed his pants.
Kai and Spike stared, bewilderment flashing through their eyes. Their gazes raked over his face, then his neck and hand, trying to figure where the scars had gone.
“Micah?” Spike finally said. “What...”
“Your scars.” Kai glanced at the side of Micah’s head, where the bald spots were.
They didn’t look happy, or sad. Just dumbfounded.
“You did the makeup thing?” York asked with a mixed expression. “What’s the special occasion?”
“Oh.” Spike blinked. “It’s makeup. I thought I smelled something odd on you.”
He reached forward, touching Micah’s cheek gingerly. Some of the makeup came off on his fingertip.
“This isn’t you,” Kai said.
But it’s how I want to look, Micah wanted to say, except his voice had gotten stuck. Am I pretty now?
“Why did you...?” Spike met his eyes.
Micah’s face burned. “I-I—H-how do I look?”
It had been four months since he’d conceived their baby, and Micah couldn’t shake this fear that somehow, they’d reject him now that they knew he could look better.
It almost killed him, waiting for their answer.
“You look good,” Spike said hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. “Why...?”
“I think you look better without,” York said.
“I’d have to agree with York,” Kai said, meeting Micah’s eyes. “This isn’t who you are.”
Then I’m just an ugly person? Micah’s chest squeezed tight; his eyes watered. He hobbled away, trying to get out of the kitchen. I’ll never be pretty to them.
All three alphas cursed.
Spike hauled him back, wrapping strong arms around Micah. “No, don’t cry. You’re beautiful.” Spike kissed Micah’s temple, holding Micah tight against his chest. “It just—It doesn’t depend on your face. It never has.”
“Sorry,” Kai said, crowding against Micah’s back, burying his nose in Micah’s hair. “I just meant that your looks aren’t important. I’ve told you that before. But the scars are what makes you strong. I wouldn’t erase them.”
“Yeah,” York said. “Maybe it’s because you’re my dad, but I’ve never cared about how you look.”
“But I—” Micah gulped, misery swelling through his too-tight chest. Short of surgery, there was no way Micah could look good for his alphas. He didn’t want the scars. He didn’t want to feel out-of-place next to them. He wanted to feel like he was worth something. “I just—I want to be—”
Why was it so difficult to look beautiful?
Micah’s heart squeezed. He sobbed, each heave wracking through his body.
“Shit.” Spike released Micah, cupping his face. Spike looked uncertain now, regretful. “Don’t cry.”
Micah cried, unable to help himself. For so long, he’d put up with all the ugliness of his scars. There wasn’t any point trying to erase them. And now that he’d tried... his alphas didn’t appreciate the effort.
“I want to be pretty,” Micah choked through his sobs, so at least they’d understand.
Spike sucked in a sharp breath, exchanging a look with Kai.
“Then do what it takes to make you feel good,” Kai said. “You’re pretty when you’re happy.”
“Yeah,” Spike said softly. “If you want more makeup, we’ll get you that. But whatever you do to the scars, it won’t change how Kai and I feel about you. I love you.”
They were still here. The tension in his chest unfurling, Micah sobbed into Spike’s shoulder, leaving a mess of makeup on his shirt.
Kai and Spike held him. Spike dropped kisses on Micah’s ear. Kai dragged his wrists down Micah’s chest, and Spike marked Micah’s sides. Despite Micah’s crying, and his botched-up cosmetics... they were still here. They weren’t going away.
“Sorry. We didn’t realize it before,” Spike said hesitantly. “I mean, we thought we could convince you that you look good, and that’d be enough.”
“Didn’t realize you wanted to look normal so much,” Kai added, kissing Micah’s ear. “Sorry. Go ahead and do the makeup if you want. We won’t judge.”
Micah trembled in their arms, leaning into their chests. He forced himself to stop crying. He was older than all of them. He was supposed to be stronger than this.
Slowly, he sniffled, swiping at the tears on his face. Spike grabbed a paper towel, dabbing Micah’s cheeks dry. Kai brushed Micah’s hair out of his face.
And now Micah felt embarrassed, bawling like he had. “Sorry. I just...”
Spike kissed his lips. “I grew up watching you with your scars. You can change your looks how you want, but to me, it’s your heart that matters.”
“Yeah.” Kai’s breath puffed into Micah’s hair. “Spike’s walked around town with your scars painted on his face.”
Micah winced. “You did?”
Spike squirmed. “I didn’t do it to be rude, or anything. I just... wondered how it felt to have scars. So I got some poster paints and painted some on my face. I was young and stupid. Sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize for that.” His nose stopped up, Micah breathed through his mouth, picturing Spike with blotchy paint all over his face. It mightn’t have been the same, but... the sentiment was sweet.
Spike had tried to walk in Micah’s shoes. Maybe that was all Micah needed.
A soft laugh bubbled out of him, unbidden.
“There you go,” Kai murmured, stroking Micah’s back. “If you tell us which brands you like, we’ll grab some makeup for you.”
“You don’t have to,” Micah said, turning so he could see Kai, too.
Kai met his eyes, his smile tentative. “Sorry for making you cry.”
“No, no. It’s fine.” Micah tipped his face up—an invitation. And Kai leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to his lips. Kai’s kiss said We’re here, and You matter to me.
Micah’s heart thumped for him. For both of them. Kai and Spike, who stood with him, uncertain looks on both their faces. They cared.
“Food’s starting to burn,” York said to the side.
Micah yelped. Kai pressed his palm over Micah’s heart; Spike reached for the stove, grabbing the pans off the electric burners.
“It’s fine,” Spike said. “I s
aved the food.”
Micah made sure that Spike turned the burners off. Then he glanced back at York, feeling sheepish. He’d been the one making food. He shouldn’t have messed up.
And now, York had seen Micah with his alphas. Over the past few weeks, Micah had refrained from being intimate with Kai and Spike in front of his son, for fear of York judging them more than he already had.
Instead of scowling at Kai and Spike like he’d been doing, York looked thoughtful.
“You knew my dad?” York asked. “For years?”
Spike straightened his shoulders. “Yeah. Ever since that backyard party with the fire.”
Gods, that was a long time ago. And a painful memory. Micah couldn’t imagine having that kind of impact on anyone’s life—except it had already happened.
York grimaced. “Yeah, I remember you. You’ve been creeping on my dad since then?”
Spike tightened his arm around Micah’s waist, narrowing his eyes. “I wasn’t creeping. I’d just... noticed him for years. I’ve loved him for longer than you can imagine.”
“You aren’t just fucking with him?” York glanced at Kai, too, suspicious. “Nine years is a damn long time.”
“I’m twisted. Don’t question it.” Spike rubbed Micah’s side, rumbling possessively. “But you can ask Kai. Kai can vouch for me.”
Kai snorted. “Yeah, Spike’s twisted, all right. He’s had his eye on Micah since we were, I don’t know. Fourteen?”
Spike shrugged, but he pressed Micah up against Kai, sandwiching Micah between both of them.
“And you’re all...” York waved his finger at the three of them, hesitant to say the words.
“We share a bed,” Kai said. “That’s all you need to know.”
Micah blushed. That, in itself, was far more than he wanted to tell York.
“Yeah, I don’t want to know more,” York said, looking green again. “It just sounds really weird when you call my dad by his name. He’s just ‘Dad’ to me.”
“He’s our omega,” Spike said with a smile. “I haven’t marked him today.”
“Oh, gods.” York grimaced. “I’m out of here. But I need to grab breakfast first.”
York seemed a lot more relaxed around them now, though. As Spike and Kai stepped back so York could grab a plate, Micah approached his son, squeezing his shoulder. “Did you sleep well?”
York slanted a look at him. “I did. But I guess you didn’t.”
Micah laughed awkwardly. “I guess not.”
“You look like a mess,” York said, handing him another paper towel. “I’ll clean up after breakfast.”
“Thanks.” Micah leaned in, pulling York into a hug. “And thanks for giving Kai and Spike a chance.”
Embarrassed, York looked away. “I’m just being nice. Like you asked.”
“That’s not all of it.” Micah grinned. “It takes a lot more than that to change your mind. Ask me how I know.”
York snorted. “They passed a test, I guess. For now. I’m still not happy with them yet.”
Then he scowled over his shoulder at Spike and Kai, and Micah felt a little bit torn between his son and his alphas. But it was better than before.
“I’m sorry,” Micah said, tiptoeing to kiss York on the cheek. “I promise I’ll be more honest from now on.”
York leaned away before Micah’s kiss could land. “As long as you haven’t kissed anything weird with your mouth. You smell like alpha.”
Micah froze, his cheeks burning as he tried to remember if he’d kissed any part of Spike or Kai. He hadn’t done anything this morning, but before he’d gone to bed, he’d sucked Kai off. “If... it was last night, does it count?”
“Ew, Dad!” York pushed him back gently. “Thanks, but no. You gotta brush your teeth first.”
Behind them, Kai coughed lightly. Spike elbowed Kai. Micah sighed, shaking his head.
Things weren’t perfect yet, but if they kept improving... maybe they’d all get to a better place.
25
Micah
Micah hurried into the department office, a sheath of papers in his hands. He was late in submitting his office receipts for reimbursement. The deadline had been an hour ago, but he’d been distracted by his consultation with Kai.
For once, they’d been working on the textbook concepts instead of chatting. There had been the occasional handjob over the last couple weeks, too, but that had been rare and risky, and Kai had stopped when Micah started to panic.
It was difficult not to drift off-topic, though, when Kai had glimpsed the bundle of unused red pens in Micah’s pen-holder. He’d started telling Micah about Spike dragging him to the store, musing over which brand and ink color Micah would like.
Other times, Kai talked about the one wrinkled photo that Spike had sneaked onto Micah’s desk—Spike and Kai at an amusement park, back when they were fourteen—and other times, it was the spare pair of shorts that had mysteriously ended up in Kai’s satchel, instead of Spike’s.
It was easy, talking to Kai now that they were familiar with each other.
Unlike Spike, who was all jokes and grins, Kai chatted in a serious, interested sort of way. He leaned in, his gaze fixed on Micah the whole time, and he listened. It was nice. Micah looked forward to their consultations together.
The chemistry department office smelled like printer ink and peach air freshener, like it always did. Micah ducked behind the receptionist’s counter, setting his stack of paperclipped receipts into the inbox.
A couple of low voices drifted over from the back. Lunch hour meant there wasn’t a soul in sight—just a sea of deserted cubicles, and locked computer screens.
Micah had been about to slip back out of the office, when someone said. “I won’t approve his scholarship appeal. Kai Ventura should never have received a scholarship in the first place. Strip the rest of his scholarship. Revoke his enrollment.”
Micah froze, hardly even breathing.
Now that Kai’s ankle had healed and he could play basketball again, he had appealed for a reassessment of his scholarship reduction. To an outsider, it looked as though Kai stood a decent chance of getting his scholarship back.
“C’mon, Bernard,” the other voice said. “He’s got the talent to put Meadowfall College into the big games. Verified by the coach. You want the visibility, don’t you? More visibility, more students, more profit. You told me that yourself.”
Micah froze. Bernard was here? His stomach turned. He still remembered the harsh words from when he’d dated Bernard—You aren’t worth so much—and later, when he’d begged Bernard for a position in the college. Only because I haven’t seen anyone more pathetic than you.
The less Micah saw of Bernard, the less power Bernard would have over him.
“No,” Bernard answered, his voice awful and grating. “Find a way to drop him. I want him out of here.”
“What’s wrong with him?” the other voice asked. Micah recognized it as the chemistry department head, Harold Saxon. The one who had been firing professors for having relationships with their students.
I shouldn’t be here, Micah thought, his heart racing. This is too risky.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Bernard said, his tone clipped. There was something he didn’t like about Kai.
Apparently, Harold recognized it, too. “What kind of dirt you got on him?” he asked, barely audible.
Micah knew he should leave right then. But he needed to know, too. Just in case this put Kai at a disadvantage. Just in case Micah could help him, somehow.
He crept closer to the voices, the carpeted floor muffling his footsteps. Micah stepped up to a tall potted plant that shielded him from the other half of the office, the short bit of an L-shape that contained Harold’s desk, and a few others.
“I don’t want any connections with him,” Bernard said. “My wife brought it up when she went to a game. She said he—bears a resemblance.”
To who? Bernard? Micah held his breath. He’d seen the similarities, too,
back when he’d first gotten to know Kai. Micah had asked if Kai was related to the college president.
There was a stretch of silence. Micah almost thought one of them would step out from behind the potted plant, and discover him.
“Did you do a paternity test?” Harold asked at length.
“Recently, yes.” Bernard paused. “By then, he’d already received the scholarship. I should’ve gone through the applicants, for gods’ sakes.”
Micah reeled. So Kai was... Bernard’s son? An illegitimate one?
He turned, heading for the door, his mind spinning. I’ve been sleeping with Bernard’s son.
How could this possibly get worse? He fumbled with his walking stick, banging it against the foot of a desk. The sound was loud enough that the conversation stopped. Micah’s blood grew cold.
He didn’t have time to run. He couldn’t hide well, either. So he took two giant steps away, turned, and dropped to his knees, sprawling across the carpet as though he’d tripped and fallen.
“Who’s there?” Bernard snapped, his voice crystal-clear when he strode into Micah’s half of the office.
Micah pried himself off the ground, his skin too tight. “Walking difficulties.”
He made himself meet Bernard’s eyes. Bernard Hastings was tall and broad-shouldered, his hair turning white, his poplar scent stirring memories of humiliation that Micah would rather forget. I don’t think we’ll work out. You lack the qualities of a good omega.
It never was pleasant, having that judging stare sweep down him, and lock onto his face.
“Davis,” Bernard said coolly, surprise flickering through his gaze.
Micah knew what had caught Bernard off-guard—it was the cosmetics that hid his scars. Except Micah wasn’t sure hiding his scars was a good thing right now. Would it make Bernard mock him?
Bernard took two steps forward, towering over Micah. Micah scrambled to his feet, trying not to wipe his sweaty palms on his hands. I need to leave. But how?
“How much did you—” Bernard paused. “How long have you been here?”
“I was, um.” Micah waved, casting his gaze around the office for inspiration. “I was here to drop some documents off. Not long at all. Was there something I should have heard?”
His Two Alphas Page 24
