SEALing His Fate: An Mpreg Romance (SEALed With A Kiss Book 1)

by Aiden Bates

  "A hospital is too confined, too exposed. And it's too easy to let your guard down. That's where they get you. Do you have any idea how many dictators and terrorists the Wolves have gotten to in hospitals?" He shook his head. "If I sneak off to Australia I might be able to pull it off, but that's an awfully big step. And I'm not sure it's the best decision. Anyway, it's not that you'd mean to abandon me." His eyes softened. "While you're certainly furious with me right now, you care more about this baby than you have about anyone, ever."

  Trent opened his mouth again. "Yeah, I'm pissed. I'm real pissed. And I do love that baby. But I'm worried about you, too. I love you."

  Mal sniffed but didn't comment about that. "The issue is, you're one man against a massive bureaucracy designed to keep immigrants away. There simply isn't any way they're going to admit a random man who isn't a refugee, from a friendly country, with a violent history." He shrugged. "You know it, and you'd be livid if they let someone else in with the same background."

  "They've let worse in." Trent glared at the door. He didn't want to set Mal off, or make him feel worse, but he couldn't agree with him either.

  "That was before." Mal finished stitching. He managed to tie off the thread, pulled out a knife, and cut it.

  "There's no way that was sterile." Trent scowled.

  "Nope." Mal gave him a tired look. "Not even a little bit. But someone went and threw the scissors at the wall."

  Trent winced and glanced at the dent in the plaster. "About that. I'm sorry. I'm not usually…I don't typically do that kind of thing."

  "You were mad. You didn't want me to go out and endanger the baby." Mal followed Trent's gaze to the divot. "I understand. In another time, another place, I think things could have been different."

  Trent leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You're not going to stop."

  "I can't. It's too dangerous, for one thing. And I don't think you'd stop, in the same circumstances. Maybe you could, I don't know. You guys probably get jobs out of the field if you get pregnant."

  "They don't have omega SEALs." Trent looked Mal up and down. "For a reason, I should add."

  "Cute. The fact is, I was able to do everything I would normally do without a problem. I'm not disabled. I'm pregnant. There's a difference."

  Trent bit down on his cheek for a second. "Okay, sure. That works for civilians, but you took on a room full of terrorists."

  "And I won." Mal's jaw set. "We have a lot of tricks we use to even up those odds. I suspect they softened each other up for us with plenty of friendly fire." He smirked. "Smoke grenades cover a multitude of sins, you know."

  Mal obviously expected Trent to laugh. Trent would have laughed, if he found anything the least bit funny. "You were breathing smoke, too? What kind of toxic crap did you pass on to our baby? You haven't gotten any kind of prenatal care, you're running around putting yourself and the baby in harm's way, and you won't come to America. Are you even eating right? You don't actually want this baby, do you?"

  Mal stood up and straightened his back. "I never made any bones about that. In another time and another place, it might have been nice. It's not feasible for me right now. It's likely going to kill me or get me killed. So no, I'm not exactly welcoming parenthood with open arms. I'm sorry that's not acceptable to you." He stalked over to the door. "Tell Morna I'll be around when she's ready."

  With that, Mal walked out into the early morning sun, bare to the waist and covered in grime.

  Trent watched him go, jaw hanging open. He barely noticed when the Master Chief appeared at his side. "Well, that could have gone better."

  Trent closed his mouth. "Do you think he'll be back?"

  Chief gave him a measuring look. "I don't know. Omegas can be touchy, especially when you jump down their throat the minute you reunite."

  "Were you listening in?" Trent side-eyed his superior.

  "Thin walls, Kelly. Thin walls." Chief smirked. "Anyway. He can't be going far if he's going to be around when Morna's ready. He's probably going to a local hotel to rest and wash up. Let's leave him to it. We can try to mend things later."

  "We?" Trent did a double take. "Are you helping?"

  "Well, I don't think you can do this on your own at this point. Plus, we kind of need the two of them." Chief winked at him and patted him on the back. "Get some rest, Kelly. You've been wearing a path in the floor all night. He's alive, he's okay. We'll deal with the rest later."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mal found a hotel just far enough from base that he could feel he'd separated himself from the others. It was a good enough hotel, with a private bathroom, and clean beds. That was all he cared about at the moment. He bribed the clerk to let him check in early, and then he crawled into the shower.

  That shower was the best shower he'd ever had. He'd certainly been dirtier. He'd flung himself headlong through the sewers in St. Petersburg, and he'd spent three days in the catacombs underneath Paris keeping trafficked omegas safe. This was just blood, soot, and a little bit of guts. It was nothing.

  No, it was Trent who'd made him feel dirty. He didn't think Trent meant to make him feel dirty, but that didn't change the fact that Trent's anger and revulsion made him feel a grime under his skin and inside his head he hadn't felt before. He wanted it off.

  Soap and water couldn't do that. They could, however, make his skin itch less from the dried blood.

  When he was done, he crawled into bed. He didn't bother digging through his things for something to sleep in. Everything was uncomfortable anyway. He just crawled between the sheets and let darkness overtake him.

  He woke up much, much later. Morna hadn't called him, but the sun had completely crossed the sky and now made its descent toward the western horizon. Had she been killed by homicidal Americans? Had she decided to defect? Had she sneaked off in the night?

  Was Mal now becoming a vampire, if he'd slept all day and was only now waking up as the sun set?

  He shook his head at himself and checked his stitches. He hadn't done a bad job on them, despite the distraction.

  Christ. Trent. He'd known Trent was too good to be true. This was the proof. What was he thinking? Somehow Trent wouldn't be yet another person who wanted to control him? Right. Even the circumstances were wrong. Trent hadn't called him because they were coming to get Mal and bring him home. Trent called him because he needed to use Mal.

  Why did that even bother Mal, anyway? His father had told him for years he wasn't here to be catered to or to feel good. Mal was here to be useful, to make others' lives better, and that was all. Mal learned that lesson a thousand times over and he hadn't balked at it. Why was it suddenly rankling now?

  He looked down at his barely there baby bump. "I blame you," he said.

  The bump didn't do anything. Mal's stomach growled, demanding food, but that was about it.

  He pushed himself into a sitting position. He shouldn't get used to talking to the bump. It was just another part of him, like a leg or a toe, except for the fact it was going away. Even if he survived, he wasn't going to be able to keep it. He couldn't get attached. He didn't even want it, not really.

  He put a hand on the bump. He couldn't feel anything in there, not yet. It was definitely too early to feel it moving around or anything. And that was good, really. He didn't want any of that stuff. It would only make him feel worse when it all blew up.

  Who did Trent think he was, anyway? He thought being pregnant meant something bizarre, like it meant some kind of fundamental change in a human being. All of a sudden, the carrier was no longer supposed to care about anything. They were supposed to just sit around and do something — Mal had no idea what — until the baby arrived.

  Was that how families worked in America? Anyplace else? Mal knew damn well his own family had been non-traditional, to say the least. And he didn't have many carriers to compare himself to. Maybe it was more normal to become an animal, completely consumed by the baby until nothing and no one else mattered.

  That hadn
't been how Mum had done it. Of course, Mum sold him and Morna out to save her own skin. She was maybe not the best example.

  His phone rang, finally. His heart leaped in his chest. Trent realized he was being unreasonable and had called to apologize!

  Then he recognized the ring tone. Trent wasn't calling. It was only Da.

  "Hello, sir." Mal slumped back against the headboard.

  "Nice work yesterday. It's a pity about the castle."

  Mal glanced at the phone for a second. Da had to be leading up to something. "Thank you, sir."

  "Any survivors?"

  "There were some, four new recruits asleep in the castle. We didn't have time to evacuate them. We're hoping they got out and saw the error of their ways. It's the same old song and dance, sir. The recruiter found some down on their luck young men and sucked them in, like a cult. Then he handed them over to White Dawn." He pursed his lips. "I have to wonder, sir, if these recruiters are working on orders or if they've gone independent of Daesh leadership."

  "That's a good question, Malachi. A good question indeed. I have some people working on it."

  "We pulled two survivors out. They surrendered. They're being hidden by allies."

  "Allies?" Da scoffed. "We don't have allies. We're Wolves."

  Mal could roll his eyes in the privacy of his hotel room. He wouldn't have dared, not if they were face to face. "Of course not, sir. But we also don't have anyplace to keep people or to keep them safe. The SEALs do."

  "The SEALs. Those would be the same SEALs who had you sitting on your asses in Crete forever when I needed you."

  Mal had gotten to be adept at recognizing his father's mood changes over the years. He straightened up, even though no one could see him. "Yes, sir. They have extensive resources. Anyway, sir, they happen to be working the same case. I heard from them just as our fight ended last night."

  Da grunted. He couldn't fault Mal's logic. "How is it that they're working on the same case? Have you been feeding them information, boy?"

  "Of course not, sir," Mal lied. "They have an extensive intelligence network. We probably have some of the same sources. No one would have wanted those bombs to go off. And I, for one, am glad to have the help. It's good to know we have someone we can call if we need to drop some people off somewhere, or if we need some testing done."

  "I suppose. I don't like it. Working with them is…it's uncomfortable. It's compromising, son. They'll take and take, and the next thing you know they'll rob you blind and convince you it's your fault." He coughed, heavily. "Where is she?"

  Mal winced. "She's keeping an eye on things over at the SEAL safe house, sir." Mal hoped he wasn't lying. "She'd rather I not stay with them. It's a unit full of alphas."

  "Oh, Jesus. First good decision she's made in her life. All we'd need would be you getting pregnant." Da cleared his throat a few times. It sounded like he was coming down with a cold. "If I could have got away with it, I'd have had you both sterilized when you were children, and no mistake. No need to worry about anything like that when we're fighting a war."

  "Of course, sir." He looked down at his baby bump and waved a finger at it.

  The bump didn't respond.

  "All right. Well, keep me posted about how things go with the Yanks. I don't trust 'em, Mal. I don't trust 'em as far as I could throw 'em."

  "No, sir. I'll keep you posted."

  Mal waited for his father to end the call, and then he texted Morna. You okay?

  Morna replied right away. Have you really been asleep all this time?

  Mal blushed. Yeah.

  Good. You've needed the rest. Tell me where you are. I'm sending someone by with some sensible food.

  Mal rolled his eyes. What Morna didn't know about a sensible diet could fill a cookbook. Nevertheless, he told his sister where to find him and took another quick shower.

  He threw on clothes that looked best despite the bump, didn't feel too tight to breathe in, and settled back to wait.

  He suspected who Morna would send, and he wasn't disappointed. Morna probably thought she was being subtle.

  "Hi." Trent held up some containers of takeout. "Morna tells me your diet is 'shite.'" His eyebrows knit together. "I'm not sure what that means."

  "It means, if she wants me to eat better she should probably let me take the time to eat better." Mal took the containers over to the little table in the corner. "Will you be joining me?"

  Trent looked around the room and nodded. "I'd like that."

  Mal didn't comment, but at least he had that much. Trent hadn't decided to shun him yet.

  Trent had brought over a quiche and a couple of salads. "They tried to give me wine too, even though I told them it was for a pregnant person." He shook his head. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with people sometimes."

  "The guidelines they give differ by culture." Mal shrugged. He could take or leave drink. Giving it up for nine months was no big deal for him. It was the least obtrusive thing Trent expected of him. "So how are things in your SEAL colony?"

  Trent huffed out a little laugh. "SEAL colony, that's cute. Things are going okay. I wanted to say thank you for getting Sam out. I promised his mother I'd try, but you beat me to the punch."

  Mal laughed. "Well, you know, I had no idea who he was or anything like that. He came up and surrendered to us, so it's all up to him." He shook his head and took a bite of his quiche. "How's he coping? He seemed to be in a bit of shock yesterday."

  "He's getting better. I can't say he's doing well, but he's getting better. He's having to deal with readjusting his whole mindset, you know?" Trent looked off into the distance for a minute. "He did give us some intel on another cell nearby. Apparently some other ISIS clowns were planning an attack on the Toulon base."

  Mal almost choked on his salad, and Trent had to pound on his back to get him breathing again. "Where are they? I'll leave right now."

  Trent scoffed. "Like hell."

  Mal put his fork down and looked Trent in the eye. "You're joking."

  "We're not sending you on a mission when you're four months pregnant, Mal. That's just not happening. Even if it wasn't my baby, the guys would never put up with it. For one thing, they wouldn't want a pregnant guy having their back like that. What if you had to stop and puke, or piss, or something?"

  Mal's rage didn't usually burn. He was more prone to cold fury. "I'm trying to figure out if you're joking, or if the American education system is just that bad."

  "What? It's a concern, okay?" Trent clenched his chiseled jaw. At another time, Mal would have taken the time to admire it.

  "Right. Because someone who has been doing this kind of thing since before he could shave doesn't have the good sense to bow out if he's having trouble in that way." He threw his hands up into the air. "Is it all carriers you have an issue with, or just omegas? Or is it just me?" He tilted his head to the side. "That's it, isn't it? I'm not knuckling under and turning into a good, demure little coward, hiding from everything until my shining knight comes to save me, and you're mad."

  "I don't know about knuckling under." Trent scowled and pushed his plate away. "I am pretty pissed that you're too selfish to do what's right for our baby. It's all me, me, I. I have to keep fighting, I can't stop doing what I do. That baby doesn't figure into a goddamn thing for you, does it? And neither do I. You don't actually want to be with me. You don't want to settle down or start a family with me. You just want to go on living the same way you've always lived."

  Mal stood up. "I'm being realistic, Trent. You think of yourself as some great savior pulling me away from all this, but you've got no plan and you've got no ideas. The only solution you have is that I should somehow disentangle myself from an organization I was born into, and that a person can only leave feet first, with no help and no protection, and sit down and wait for you to somehow pull something out of your ass to 'save' me instead of doing a job that actually helps people and saves lives."

  "And what about the baby?" Trent folded his
arms across his chest.

  "The baby is the only one you're thinking of." Mal snarled the words out. "It's the only one you've thought of since I told you I was pregnant. If I hadn't gotten pregnant you'd have been perfectly happy to leave me over here, and you're perfectly happy to take this baby and leave me over here to die. You don't give a crap if I don't take care of myself, if I wind up dehydrated and half starved in my room for a week, but God forbid I spend ten minutes in a smoky room."

  Trent frowned. "When did you wind up dehydrated and starving?"

  "That's not the point. The fact that you didn't notice is the point. I'm not just a vessel to carry your spawn. I'm a person. I have my own priorities, and a child I'm never going to know or see just isn't going to be at the top of that list. You're all sulky about how I'm not all gung-ho about coming back to America to start a family with you, but here you are thinking I'm just an incubator!"