The Omega's Secret Pregnancy

by Anna Wineheart

“I think I should confiscate all your scent suppressants, Felix Henry.” Taylor holds him up by the shoulders, looking hard into his eyes. “Kade loves you. I’m sure he—”

  “What,” Felix says. “You haven’t even met him since you got back.”

  Taylor sighs, blowing his hair out of his eyes. “And I’m also the one who got fifty voicemails from him when you fled. Fifty, Felix.”

  Felix winces. Had Kade left offended barbs that Taylor could show him? “Really?”

  “Well, more like eighteen, spread over seven months or so.” Taylor frowns. “He cares about you. You know that, right? I mean, you’ve been together forever.”

  “Not forever,” Felix mutters, pulling his sheets around himself.

  “Pretty damn close,” Taylor says. He nudges Felix with his shoulder. “Or do you need me to tell him on your behalf?”

  Taylor, telling Kade about the pregnancy when Felix can’t even show his face? What kind of irresponsible omega does that to his bondmate? “That’s worse!”

  “Look, at least give him a chance to respond,” Taylor says. “Then if he says he doesn’t want the child, you’ll pack your bags and leave.”

  Felix pulls the sheets over his head. It’ll kill him, hearing Kade say he doesn’t want the child. It’ll feel like a rejection, and he deserves it for all he’s done to Kade, but... “I can’t. His dad’s dead because of me.”

  Taylor winces. “The bankruptcy wasn’t your fault. It was Father’s—”

  “Father asked me to draw those impressions,” Felix wails, clinging to his sheets. “If people didn’t fall in love with those houses... the bankruptcy would never have happened. And Kade’s dad wouldn’t have died.”

  “Drawing those impressions doesn’t mean you caused the bankruptcy, Felix.”

  But Felix had drawn them, made them bright and colorful and classy, and prospective buyers had perked up when it slipped into newspapers and websites and every other advertising channel. If he’d never drawn those impressions, his father wouldn’t have gotten the idea to clear out all his tenants.

  Felix cringes. “Why don’t you try having a death on your hands—” Taylor raises an eyebrow, and Felix sighs. “Well, a death of someone you love, at least.”

  His brother looks away then, his lips thinning. Felix tenses. “You haven’t been in that situation, have you?”

  “Once,” Taylor says, his gaze fixed on the orange tree outside the window. “Years back.”

  “Oh my god.” Felix glances at Taylor’s wrists, then his neck—no bonding marks. What kind of relationship had it been? “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was on an extended mission. Remember the time I left for two years?” Taylor meets his gaze, a deep ache in his eyes. Felix’s ribs tighten. “I was mostly over it by the time I got back. I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Oh, Taylor,” Felix whispers, hugging his brother tight. “I didn’t know.”

  They sit in silence for a while, listening to the birds chirping outside the window, the rumble of cars, the neighbors yelling for their children.

  “You smell good,” Taylor says suddenly. He leans in, sniffing at Felix. “I missed you. And I’ve definitely missed smelling you.”

  Felix cringes. “There’s plenty other things for you to smell.”

  But Taylor sighs. “You smell like home, you know? Like something familiar. There are... too many other smells when I’m working.”

  “I’m not taking the suppressants for long,” Felix says, but he can’t help remembering Kade’s nose on his neck, and how he’d only pulled away ten minutes later. How would he react to this smell? He’d said Felix smelled sweet, but he hadn’t realized why, had he? “Just until I’m out of Meadowfall.”

  “It’s still too long,” Taylor says. “I regret giving you the scent suppressants. You need to stop hiding.”

  “I’m not dealing with it,” Felix says, and his brother shakes his head.

  “Come on,” Taylor says, rolling off the mattress, loose-limbed and agile. “Let’s get some breakfast outside. I want something tasty.”

  “I still have leftover Italian soup,” Felix says. “Kade came over and helped cook it.”

  His brother studies him for a bit, pursing his lips. “You were fucking in the middle of making soup, weren’t you?”

  “No. We fucked after.” Felix pouts. “I know about hygiene, okay?”

  Taylor snorts. He extends a hand to Felix, though, pulling him out of bed. “Fine. But I want to treat you to breakfast. Eggs Benedict, and maybe some pancakes. And some coffee.”

  “You have expensive tastes,” Felix says, but he’s smiling, padding out of the room with his brother.

  “We don’t live forever. Eat well,” Taylor says, winking. “But don’t pop the suppressants today, okay? I want to smell you.”

  Felix frowns, pausing halfway to the bathroom. “I can’t. I’m hiding.”

  “No one’s going to look at you,” Taylor says. “Just act normal.”

  “But what if we bump into Kade? That’s the whole point to the suppressants.”

  “I’ll look out for him. You’ll be fine.” Taylor squeezes his palm. His hand is small and warm, traced with scars, unlike Kade’s.

  Felix finds himself missing his bondmate, suddenly. He trudges to the bathroom, thinking maybe Kade will visit, figure he’s out, and return home instead. They made no plans to meet today.

  “Fine, I guess. And only because I want to see you happy.” Felix will be fine smelling like himself, right? A few hours out with Taylor, and he’ll be home. “I won’t take them.”

  A Belgian waffle, an eggs Benedict, and a small stack of pancakes later, Felix steps into the department store with Taylor, the tension from his shoulders gone. “That was delicious,” he says, clinging to his brother’s arm. “I’m so happy we went out.”

  “I know. You haven’t stopped grinning since we left the diner.” Taylor leads them past the aisles of wicker baskets, stationery and gleaming kitchen appliances. “You’re getting bigger. Do you want any clothes for later on?”

  Felix winces, looking down at his belly. It doesn’t look like much from afar, but he’s wearing a thin flower-print shirt, and if anyone looks closely, they’ll see the faint bulge of his abdomen.

  In another four months, he’ll be swollen with child, and Kade won’t be around to hold his hand. His throat grows tight. “I’m not... I don’t know. I have clothes right now.”

  Taylor frowns, peering at him. “What about baby clothes? Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

  Felix shakes his head. “Not yet.”

  “You’ve been to the doctor at least, right?” Taylor asks, turning them down aisles and tall metal shelves. Felix winces. “Felix! You should be visiting every month, so you know you’re both healthy!”

  “That’s what the internet says,” Felix mutters, looking at the shiny laminate of the floor. His borrowed cash has run dry, spent on food and bills, and a secret stash for moving. “I know.”

  “If cash is the issue, I’ll just—”

  “No.” He can’t keep depending on others to help him. “I’ll find the time and money to go myself. Soon.”

  “If you say so,” Taylor says, narrowing his eyes. “If I visit the next time and you haven’t been...”

  “I know. Stop worrying,” Felix says, grimacing. “I worry enough for both of us.”

  Taylor sighs. He turns them around another corner, and Felix freezes at the piles of pastel clothes, tiny ones slightly larger than his hands. The baby clothes section stretches on for yards and yards, and this early in the day, few shoppers wander around the store.

  He gulps, reaching out to touch soft cotton: little striped socks, egg-yellow onesies, shirts with animal prints on them. The clothes he’d wanted to look at when he was last here with Kade, shopping for lemonade stand items.

  “We could get some that aren’t gender-specific,” Taylor says. “My gift as an uncle.”

  “Thanks, I suppose.
I think it’s finally sinking in. I’m going to be a dad.” Felix trudges after him, staring at the unending piles of clothes. He sets a hand on the bulge of his stomach, thinking about the tiny life inside him, and how it’ll grow into a walking, talking child. How had one night changed so much?

  “There are parenting courses around. Sign up for one, you might learn something good.” Taylor holds up a pale purple shirt, smiling. “Is this cute enough?”

  On the front of the shirt, a bear sits with a pot, one paw coated with honey, a delighted grin on its face. Felix smiles. You would look adorable wearing that. “It’s cute.”

  “What about these? I can’t believe they’re so tiny,” Taylor says, picking up a pair of striped pink mittens, his eyes warm.

  It’s easy to soak up Taylor’s excitement, when he sets the mittens against Felix’s belly, his eyes wide. “I can’t imagine you carrying such a big child... or will it grow to fit these mittens after it’s born?”

  “I don’t know,” Felix says, stretching the cuffs open on a pastel blue pair of mittens, the material flannel-soft against his fingers. “What do they need mittens for?”

  “I think that’s where research comes in,” Taylor says, nudging him. “In case they accidentally scratch themselves? Seems like a good possibility.”

  “I guess I haven’t thought about nails, either.” It seems like a huge task suddenly, raising a child himself, seeing to all its needs while he tries to work and earn a living for them both.

  “What about this? I’d love to see a baby boy in a sundress,” Taylor says, lifting one off a rack of brightly-colored clothes. “This reminds me of your painting, the one with the field of flowers—”

  Taylor goes still, his gaze flicking up as though he’s just spotted an enemy. “Shit.”

  The alarm bells clamor in Felix’s head even before he turns. Because they aren’t hiding from secret agents right now. They’re hiding from Kade, and Kade’s ten yards away, striding across the linoleum floors to them, his eyes fixed on Felix, his lips a thin line.

  Felix’s stomach plummets to his feet. He can’t breathe. They’re surrounded by baby clothes, his shirt so thin the AC brushes over his skin.

  I don’t think we’re suited for kids, Kade had said. Don’t wanna knock you up. That’ll be a mess.

  And the ragged look in those mahogany eyes... Kade knows. Kade knows, and the tiny dresses around him aren’t protection enough. They shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t have even left the house today. Kade’s nostrils flare, and Felix knows exactly what he smells. The baby squirms inside him.

  “Kill me now,” Felix whispers, mind spinning. “You brought the gun in, didn’t you? Just—just make it a clean shot.”

  “I won’t,” Taylor hisses, his gaze darting between Kade and Felix. “I’m not shooting you. It’s time you told him, Felix.”

  Felix whimpers, a soft, helpless sound. The exit’s thirty yards away. He can run, but Kade is stronger and faster than him, and he can’t move his feet right now. His body isn’t cooperating. And Kade doesn’t want a child at all. “Taylor, please.”

  Kade closes the distance between them, tall and looming. Felix curls his fist into soft, tiny dresses, and wishes he were a million miles from here.

  26

  Kade

  What kind of tea did you want? Kade types, hitting the send button on his phone.

  Of course his mom would forget the tea on her grocery run, when it’s the only thing that’ll keep her awake. And of course he’d offered to pick it up for her.

  He strides into the department store, thinking about getting some brake fluid for his bike, and maybe some crackers. The last time he’d been here this early, it had been to get cups and straws for the lemonade stand. Felix had been with him. Kade shoves the phone in his pocket, winding through the empty store.

  His attention drifts to the customers in the store—the sports mom with her baseball cap and two kids trailing after her, the plump old lady pushing a huge shopping cart, the two mops of flyaway blond hair behind some kids’ clothes... It looks like Felix, actually. And his brother.

  So Kade drifts closer, pulse racing. What are the odds of meeting him here?

  One of the blonds looks up, and Kade can recognize his omega anywhere. It’s him!

  Taylor leans in, pushing two tiny mittens against Felix’s abdomen. Felix stares contemplatively at the mittens, reaching for another pair. Kade slows his footsteps. Why would Taylor be sticking mittens on his brother’s stomach?

  Taylor turns to a clothes rack. Felix bites his lip, looking down. Does he actually want a baby? Kade thinks, following his gaze. Felix hasn’t worn clinging shirts in a while, and his belly...

  There’s a bulge at his belly.

  Air rushes out of his lungs. Had that bump been there all along? Kade doesn’t remember seeing his naked abdomen recently. And they’ve been fucking countless times. How had he missed it?

  Because it’s noticeable, now that Kade’s staring at it. Felix has never had a bump. How can it be anything else?

  Felix is pregnant. Felix is fucking pregnant, and how the fuck had Kade not noticed sooner? Thought you said you’re on BC!

  All those bumpy sweaters he’s been wearing, the lack of a scent, the time he puked... Kade tries to remember the last time he touched Felix’s belly, but he comes up blank. Because... because Felix keeps shoving his hand away, and Kade had thought Felix wanted to be touched elsewhere. Instead, he has been keeping a secret. They’ve been fucking for four months. How the hell had Kade missed it?

  Something roars in his chest. Why the fuck did you lie?

  He swears at himself, his strides lengthening. Felix carries his baby, and he wants to pull his omega against him, wants to kiss him, wants to know why the hell Felix thought it a good idea to lie.

  Taylor glances up. His mouth moves, and Felix follows his gaze. Blood drains away from Felix’s face. His lips pull down, and he’s murmuring to his brother, looking frantically around.

  Why is it a secret? Why don’t you want me to know? It’s... it’s mine, right?

  The thought sends a shiver of dread through his body. Felix hasn’t once said anything about a relationship. He’s talked about other people, maybe fucked other people, and... Kade’s stomach twists.

  “I’ll be in the baking aisle,” Taylor says, squeezing Felix’s hand. He nods at Kade, then glances at Felix, his expression shuttered. Neither of them is smiling.

  Maybe Kade was never supposed to find out about this baby. His breath catches.

  He stops before Felix, leaving two feet between them so he sees the bump—because there is a noticeable bump. How could he have slept with Felix for months and not noticed? I’m a damn idiot!

  The lavender scent hits him like a brick wall. Kade breathes it in deep, stunned, smelling the honey-sweet edge that wasn’t there before. It should have been comforting to smell it this strong, but it only leaves him feeling empty.

  “You’re pregnant,” Kade says, and the voice doesn’t sound like his own.

  Felix hugs himself. He bites his lip hard, glass in his eyes, looking as though he’s about to cry. “I-I am. Sorry.”

  Sorry about what? Months of lying? Not telling his bondmate he’s pregnant? That the baby might not be Kade’s? I trusted you, Kade thinks, and the thought burns through his chest, restless and disbelieving. How could Felix do this? They’ve known each other twenty years. We’re fucking bondmates.

  Kade sucks in a deep breath, his pulse pounding in his veins. How difficult is it for you to say “I’m pregnant”? Do I even mean anything to you?

  It’s goddamn humiliating, finding out his omega is months along. When Kade has been sleeping with Felix, and he never noticed the bump. He should have read the signs, and they’re so obvious now—Felix buying those bulky clothes, having late-night cravings, puking his guts out. They’ve been meeting for months, and Kade was clueless through it all.

  “You never told me,” he says, hating that his voice shakes. />
  “I couldn’t, okay?” Felix snaps, his voice rising high, eyes glittering. His hands come up to cradle his belly, and he looks so damn vulnerable right now.

  Despite the fury scalding his veins, Kade wants to pull him close. Because Felix is still his bondmate, Felix needs his comfort. Felix’s fingers curl into the fabric of his own shirt. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

  “Why?” His thoughts churn. Hope whispers, Maybe he wanted to surprise you. Before Kade regrets it, he blurts, “Is it mine?”

  Felix’s face crumples. He looks away, tears welling in his eyes. And Kade hears it before Felix even says, “No.”

  It isn’t his. It isn’t his. Kade stops breathing, the thought clanging through his mind. Felix is his omega. Felix is his, Felix had been his for fifteen whole years, been his closest friend and his confidant. They’ve run and shouted and played, shared a home, shared their hopes for the future, shared their joys and fears, and this...

  It feels like a knife turning in his gut when he thinks about Felix carrying a child that isn’t his. Felix once belonged to him, and it fucking hurts when that child inside him isn’t Kade’s.

  Vicious heat tears through his veins, whispering It’s not mine. He can’t stop thinking about that something else in Felix’s belly, and it should have been Kade’s, should have been mine.

  It’s not his. And the whirl of shame and anger and jealousy tears through Kade like fire consumes paper.

  He turns, his eyes stinging.

  The sun shines hot on his face, and Kade blinks. He’s out of the store. He needs to get further away. Out of this town.

  It’s only when he slides onto the bike that he realizes his hands are shaking.

  Felix isn’t his anymore. Felix hasn’t been his in a while, and Kade should have known better than to kindle his hopes into a flame.

  He swipes the tears off his cheeks, jamming his helmet on, turning the key in the ignition. The bike roars beneath him, and maybe that’s the sound his insides make, he thinks, when they’re shredding apart.