This time, when the fire went out, all that remained was ash and a few unidentifiable scraps.
Mickey was unresponsive.
Houston stared down at his exhausted mate for a long moment before shaking his head and then turning to look at the few wolves that had wandered over. “What happens now?” he asked, overwhelmed and hopeless.
No one spoke for a moment, but then finally an old man gave voice to what the others must have been thinking. “Now, we scatter the ashes. We know what to do. Maybe you should get that one to bed, eh? Hardly more’n a pup himself, with a pup inside him to boot. He doesn’t need to be here for this and neither do you.”
Shoulders relaxing slightly with relief, Houston scooped Mickey up into his arms and started away. Hesitation held him back, and he glanced back over his shoulder at the wolves. They were just watching him, waiting, apparently having known that he would have a question.
“How the hell are we going to rebuild?”
The wolves all glanced at one another, something unreadable in their eyes. The same old man spoke again, his voice a soothing whine. “That’s not for you to worry about.”
Houston shrugged and turned away, carrying Mickey back to his apartment—if it was still standing, that was. Maybe it wasn’t his concern right now, but it would be soon. He just had to take care of Mickey first, and then he would lend his strength to anyone else.
Mickey’s place looked to have been spared any damage, although the lock was still busted. Houston smiled a little and went inside, carrying his mate back to the thin mattress that acted as his bed so that he could be tucked in.
Dark eyes met his as he started to pull away. A small hand rose and clutched at his shoulder, fingers surprisingly strong for one who looked so tired. “Wait. Don’t go.”
“I wasn’t going to leave,” Houston murmured, stroking his fingers through his mate’s long black hair. “I was just going to give you some privacy.”
“I don’t want privacy,” Mickey snapped, with a ghost of his former attitude. “I want you to be in here with me where you belong. So snuggle me, dammit.”
Smiling again, Houston obeyed. Lowering himself down, he wrapped his body around Mickey, letting the omega use one of his arms as a pillow. Mickey shuddered and then relaxed, his slow breathing returning to a more normal rhythm.
Gently, Houston reached over and lay his hand on Mickey’s stomach. In the calm after the storm, he had no idea what to do or what to say.
Mickey came to his rescue, as he figured the omega always would. That was the way the world worked. The alpha protected and dominated, always held in check by an omega’s softness and wit.
“Houston?”
“Hmm?”
“I think I’m pregnant.”
Houston laughed.
Chapter Fifteen
Repairs took a long time. It felt like forever, although the reality was that only a week passed before most of the damage was patched. What couldn’t be patched up, such as the windows or broken corners, was instead cleaned and covered over with cardboard or else left as-is. The city wasn’t meant to be perfect, anyway.
Perhaps the most frustrating part of it all for Mickey was that he wasn’t allowed to participate. Being bait for the jaguars had really taken a toll on him, and he slept much of the time for the first few days. It seemed that every time he woke up, he only felt more tired than before. Heaviness dragged at his eyelids and at his body, leading him only to curl up tighter beneath his covers.
Several times throughout the day, Houston came to rouse him for a meal. It was always more than he could eat, making him protest.
“This is just a waste of supplies,” he would say, and then gag on the words as Houston shoveled another forkful of whatever it was down his throat. “Others need this more than me.”
“I don’t care,” Houston would growl in return, stabbing his fork down against the plate. “You’re my mate. You have my baby inside of you. You aren’t just eating for one anymore. You’re eating for two. So, eat for two and shut up.”
Mickey would pout at the alpha. “This is enough for three wolves, at least.”
He never won that argument though. With his pregnancy in full swing, he did have to admit that he had more of an appetite now than ever before, but all the extra weight he was packing on was food and not baby.
Then came the day, three or four mornings after the attack, when Mickey opened his eyes and felt something more than simple tiredness: he was restless. It settled at the base of his spine like an ache, almost immediately urging him to rise to his feet around his bulging stomach. And then he was out the door, blinking as even the dim light of the dangling torches seared his corneas.
The city around him looked almost the same as he walked slowly down the main road of it. He could hear the children in their school building and counted their voices. All but one were clamoring and squealing, clearly participating in some sort of game. His heart ached for the pup who was silent, mourning her lost parent, but she was a child and they are quick to recover from traumas if given the proper support. And if they had anything down here, it was support for one another.
He moved on, idly watching as the wolves about him went on through their lives. One gentle female with a mental disorder that put her behavior in the same range as that of the children, and one gruff male who watched her sweep the floor inside their open tent while grumpily pointing out spots she missed. She didn’t mind, as bright and cheerful as always.
There, someone was carefully stacking chunks of cement to fill in a gap in a wall that had been torn there by a thrown body. They were nearly out of “bricks” but here was scampering a broad teen with another load in his arms. His face was handsome and intense, fully focused on helping; there was no evidence at all that he once suffered from depression so severe he had tried to commit suicide. That was how he had been found and brought here, where he stayed ever since.
Life moved on, Mickey knew. It had to. In time, the pack would come across even the rarest of materials to replenish what couldn’t be given a temporary fix. Condemned buildings didn’t mind if their windows went missing, and who was going to miss a brick or three plucked carefully from different parts of a pile at a construction site? As the city took away, so too did it provide for the ones who dwelled beneath.
The one thing that couldn’t be changed was the patch of scorched ground, where they always burned the bodies. Maybe it could be cleaned if they scrubbed hard enough, but who had the time or spare water and soap for that? Plus, it was a monument. The only one they had, and the only way to remember all those who had gone before.
Moving off past yet another building, this one being a shed that had been carried down and reassembled piece by piece, Mickey took another look around and finally saw Houston. The alpha was toting an armful of various pieces of wood, intent on his mission.
He stopped and turned his head slightly.
Mickey grinned as Houston’s gray eyes went wide. Then, the alpha dropped his load and raced across the cavern to him. They crashed to the ground as wolves, yapping joyously while their bodies writhed together and their soft pelts mingled. Their tails entwined as they bounced and nipped playfully, with Mickey weaving in and out of his larger mate’s legs. Finally they came to a standstill with their muzzles pressed together, staring hard into each other’s eyes as a message passed between them. The words didn’t need saying, as their souls did all the speaking for them.
But, Mickey still wanted to say it. It was about time that he did.
Houston must have sensed his intent and they became human together, kneeling with their arms around one another and their foreheads touching.
Mickey opened his eyes and then closed them, nuzzling the tip of his nose against Houston’s. “I love you,” he said.
Houston gave a breathy sigh, body relaxing as he leaned hard against Mickey. The omega took it gladly, loving the feel of being relied upon by the one he himself relied upon. “I’ve been waiting for you to sa
y that for ages,” Houston growled in a whisper. “I love you too, you stubborn little thing.”
Mickey smiled, although tears rose up in his eyes. Loving someone. He never imagined it could be. “Are you busy?” he asked.
Houston hesitated and then gave a shrug. “Not so much. Was just going to take those planks over to Garcia’s to reinforce his wall. He said his joints ache today so there must be a draft getting through. But I’m certain he won’t mind if you tag along, seeing as how this is your pack and all.”
Smiling, Mickey did just that, although he had his hands swatted away every single time he tried to help. It was beyond frustrating not to be able to help his people, although he tried not to complain out loud very much because at least now he was allowed to walk around places and bother Houston.
Then, on the eighth day after the attack, they had visitors.
Stone scraped against stone as someone pushed the door wide open. Mickey paused from where he was playing with the pups and Houston, struggling to get the little white pup involved when she had no interest in even being alive at the moment.
I don’t remember anyone leaving recently but maybe I forgot. This dumb baby is already stealing my brain cells.
Houston let out a little growl. Mickey glanced over at him, surprised to see his mate bristling out to twice his normal size. His sleek grey pelt now resembled a thunderhead, full of barely-restrained energy and power that might be loosed at any moment. Curious now at what was riling up Houston, and starting to think he might know exactly what it was, Mickey turned to look back at the door.
Jaguars poured in. A soft yelp left his throat, accompanied by a rush of air passing as Houston threw himself forward. The alpha snarled viciously, bracing for attack. Other wolves began to notice now and their panicked cries split the air as they saw the sleek, black form that was Solomon.
And in his mouth, Solomon carried a sack.
Mickey’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be... could it? It never would be anything if Houston got there ahead of him though, so he tucked his head down and threw himself forward. His paws flew like they were wings, and he ran the fastest he had ever run in his entire life. He was a blur even to himself, quickly catching up with Houston’s tail; snapping his jaws, he let out an angry bark.
Houston ignored him.
Snapping his jaws again, Mickey made sure that they closed down around the side of the alpha’s tail.
That got his attention, no doubt due to the fact that he’d had the tip of his tail severed in the fight against Solomon—who wouldn’t be protective of their ass-end after that? Houston swung around, jerking to a stop. Mickey crashed into him and they rolled across the concrete as humans, growling and laughing breathlessly at the same time. At least, Mickey was laughing. He couldn’t help himself. They had to look so stupid, he bet.
When they came to a halt, Mickey found himself looking right up into Solomon’s golden eyes. They were as dark as an overcast sky, like Mickey was looking at them through the veil of Houston’s thunderhead pelt, but he thought there was something different about them from the last time he’d seen them. They were crinkled at the edges, almost as if he was amused.
“Hi,” Mickey said. It was lame, but what else could really be said in this scenario? He stood up with Houston’s help and brushed dust off his pant legs.
“Uh... Hello,” Solomon grunted, dropping the sack he carried in his teeth as he transformed. Behind him, his jaguars did the same. Mickey quickly counted how many there were: nine. Enough for protection, but not enough for a battle.
Warmth laced around Mickey’s waist as Houston held onto him, one hand settled protectively over his rounded stomach.
Solomon’s eyes strayed in the direction of Houston’s hand, taking notice. “I see you... are getting on very well.”
“We are,” Mickey said. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Houston stepped around in front of him now and ducked his head to let out a growl.
“Why are you here, cat?”
Solomon shook his head. “Is that the kind of reception we will get whenever we come bearing gifts?”
“Gifts?” Houston repeated, rolling the word around on his tongue as if it tasted foreign. “What do you mean, gifts?”
Mickey rolled his eyes and untangled himself from Houston, pushing him away playfully with a hand on his shoulder. “He means he brought shit to give us for free. But why?”
Solomon held his gaze as he gave his answer. “To make amends. A peace offering, one might say.” The dark jaguar looked almost embarrassed, or at least as embarrassed as a gigantic predator could be. “I acted poorly. My Isabella would be ashamed of me. I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you.” Mickey glanced over his shoulder. “I can’t speak for them, though.”
Solomon shrugged. “I find I can understand if they hate me for what I’ve done. That’s why I came here to make amends. Uh... if you want all this, that is.” He raised one massive hand and scratched the back of his head. “Restaurants often end up with extra food at the end of the day, or supplies with only a small bit of product left in the box that aren’t worth keeping. It’s wasteful. We could enter into a program for donations but I wondered if it might not be best to do it this way.”
I can’t believe it.
Mickey shook his head. “You’re going to feed us?”
“Only what we can spare,” Solomon warned. “And only if you keep your pack under control when I send some of my clan here to deliver to you. And it won’t always be so much. I just thought I might bring some things that were made fresh today, is all.”
Mickey couldn’t help but to smile. Houston glared at him, obviously wondering if this was some sort of trick, or otherwise a trap, but Mickey knew it wasn’t. “I think we can accept this arrangement.”
“Good,” Solomon grunted. “We’ll leave everything here, then. Expect us every three or four days. And at the first sign of an attack, this stops.”
“You don’t have to worry about anything,” Mickey promised, solemnly. Solomon nodded and started to walk away. “Wait!”
The jaguar turned back, raising his eyebrows.
Mickey stepped forward and held out his hand. “I’m sorry for what I did,” he said. He felt Houston tense at his back, ready to retaliate, but he knew that wouldn’t happen.
Solomon blinked slowly, almost lazily, and then he reached out to hold onto Mickey’s hand. He nodded only once, and then walked away.
This time, Mickey didn’t call him back. He didn’t think the jaguar would appreciate strangers seeing the tears in his eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
Several months passed. To Houston, they were the best months he’d ever seen in his entire life. Now that all the hardships were behind him and he had his mate and a child on the way, everything else also seemed to click into place. He was forced to return to the surface for work, but at least Chief Elmers understood the situation.
“Your boyfriend... is...” she repeated, helplessly.
Houston held up one hand to stop her. “Mate,” he corrected. “He’s pregnant.”
She had shaken her head at the news at first, ponytail bobbing around behind her head. “Is this an actual thing or are you pulling one of these shapeshifter pranks on me?”
Houston let out a small laugh. “No prank here, Chief.”
“How does something like this even happen?”
“Hell if I know.” Houston gave a small shrug. “It just happens. Mickey is an omega, and that means...”
And now it was Chief Elmers’ turn to hold up her hand, shaking her head slightly. “You don’t have to get into the specifics of it. Spare me that, please. I don’t pretend to understand your kind. I suppose a congratulations is in order. If you need anything, I’d tell you to come talk to me about it but I wouldn’t understand it, so if you ever disappear at some point, I’ll know why. You... take care of you and yours, Houston.”
It hadn’t been the most elegant conversation but it served the purpose. Hous
ton took off early almost every single day, which led to a great deal of questions from the other cops. At least, he assumed so from the looks they kept giving him. He was usually already out of the door by the time they started talking. Only the other shapeshifters understood, and he wasn’t close enough to them to have them back him up on this.
It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. All he wanted to do was get home to Mickey at the end of every single day, whether the omega was waiting in his apartment or down in the underground city. Balancing going back and forth between both was challenging enough without adding in work, and being presentable for work, but Houston didn’t care. He was an alpha. What was a little less sleep some nights to him?
And so time passed them by, with the season turning warmer with each day that passed. The sunlight grew stronger, filling out in intensity even before being magnified by the shining silver sides of skyscrapers. And as the heat deepened, so too did Mickey’s stomach grow larger and larger. Shapeshifter babies grew quickly in the womb, which meant that the omega experienced nine normal months of pregnancy hormones, sickness and hunger cravings all in half the time of a normal term. It was like living with a cranky alligator.
Good thing I love that cranky alligator, Houston hummed softly to himself one evening as he left work. It was a bit later than he would get off, even at a normal time, due to a particularly difficult arrest about an hour ago. A teen attempted to rob a convenience store. The owner wasn’t even going to press charges, but the kid got violent. Parents had to called. It was a particularly miserable situation for everyone involved and left Houston with a renewed respect for parents who could behave that coolly; it also gave him determination to raise his own child right.
As he headed for the sewers, he felt something of an unpleasant twinge in his stomach and grimaced. Mickey had been having contractions the past few days, as his body prepared to give birth in the near future, and Houston had been getting echoes of them whenever he was nearby. These ones seemed particularly bothersome however, and he dropped down into his wolf form and raced through the tunnels eagerly. He didn’t even bother shifting back to face the door, whacking at the secret switch with his paw as he balanced on his hind legs and then shoving through the gap that appeared.
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