Slow Heat

by Leta Blake

  Just as Jason turned away from the mirror, a soft, distressed noise drifted down the hallway from Pater’s conservatory, followed by a sharp cry. And then another, louder, more wrenching sound, almost a scream, echoed against the walls.

  Stomach churning again, Jason rushed toward the cries. The conservatory seemed empty on first glance, except for the swirl of cigarette smoke in the air, and the new, strange combined scent that was Pater’s and the baby. Jason stepped deeper into the room to find his pater curled on his side on the sofa, his arms wrapped around his middle, and his face puffy with tears. Ash-filled plates circled him on the floor.

  “Pater?” he asked gently. “What’s happening? Are you all right?”

  “I’m losing him,” Pater whispered, his fists clenching and unclenching against his stomach.

  Jason carefully crossed to him, nudging the ashed-up plates away with his foot. He knelt by the sofa and threaded his fingers into Pater’s hair soothingly. “I know he’s upset right now, but Father wouldn’t ever leave you.”

  Pater hissed and curled into a smaller ball on his side, his face drained and white. “It’s the baby. He’s dying. I’m losing him.”

  Jason’s heart wrenched. “Are you sure? What should I do?” He leapt to his feet. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”

  Sweat darkened the hair at Pater’s temples, but he shook his head no.

  “Why not?”

  “The drugs I use after heats build up in my system. They’ll know. I can’t go to the hospital, Jason.” His eyes rolled back and he moaned again.

  Jason fell to his knees beside him, moaning, “Then what do I do?”

  Pater shuddered, his breath hitching as his body seized up. When he spoke, it was gasping and strained. “Nothing. We wait.”

  “I’ll call Father.”

  “No. He’ll worry. Leave it.” Pater’s teeth ground together. “I’ve done this before, you remember. Many times.”

  Jason remembered times when he was younger that Pater went to the hospital during miscarriages. But then, as time passed, he stopped. Now he knew why. The drugs in his system would give them away and prison would be the best they could hope for. He sat tormented by his pater’s side, watching as he writhed and moaned, sweat dampening his hair and his limbs twisting up. “Is there something you can take for the pain?”

  “Already took it. You don’t have to sit here, Jason. I’m okay.”

  But Pater didn’t look okay. He was gray and occasionally let out a muffled scream that twisted Jason’s heart. He didn’t know what to do, but he suspected his Father would lose his mind if he came home to find them here and Jason hadn’t called him.

  “I’ll be right back,” Jason whispered.

  Pater thrashed on the sofa but didn’t respond.

  He left the door open in case Pater needed to call for him and ran for the phone in his father’s study. When the call connected to the shipyards, it was hard to talk over the shouting and activity in the background, but he finally made it known to the beta who’d answered that he needed to find Father and send him home. “Let him know his Érosgápe needs him. He’s…sick. Very sick. He’s in pain. Please. Tell him to hurry.”

  Replacing the handset in the cradle, Jason took some slow, calming breaths, and tried to think. Pater was probably dehydrated. In the kitchen, Jason drew a cool glass of water and dampened a clean hand towel for Pater’s forehead.

  Halfway down the hall, Jason jolted as a scream tore through the house. The water glass shattered on the hardwood floor, sending water and shards of glass everywhere, but Jason left it, running toward the conservatory and Pater’s cries.

  Jason’s heart filled his throat to find Pater with his knees on the floor, his torso on the sofa, and his hands gripping the cushions. The ashtrays all around him had been kicked over, sending dust into the air and scattering it over the floor. Jason flushed with cold dread as he took in the rest: blood stained the back of Pater’s soft pants, the red growing larger and larger as Pater threw his head back, screamed, and pushed.

  “No,” Jason whimpered. “No, no, no.” He rushed over and knelt by his pater, wrapping an arm around him. “Pater, what do I do?”

  But Pater was too lost in pain to answer. The tendons of his neck stood out as he strained, pushed, and writhed, his body flexing and tensing. His formerly white face was almost purple from effort, and dark blood flowed from him below, staining his pants, and dripping to the carpet beneath his knees.

  Jason soothed a hand over Pater’s sweaty neck. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere. It’s going to be okay.”

  Don’t go anywhere? He chastised himself as he raced back to the phone.

  He didn’t know what to do, or who to call. He flipped open Father’s address book and found a number for a doctor Pater had seen in the past, the one who sometimes came to the house after a rough heat or when Pater was sick, but the number wouldn’t connect. He called the operator and asked to be put through to the doctor’s office, but the line was busy and he couldn’t get through. He skimmed through Father’s address book for any other doctor’s name and number. He found nothing.

  Desperate and short on ideas, he dialed Vale’s house and there was no answer. He tried again. Still no answer. From the conservatory, his Pater’s screams raised goosebumps on his arms, as he pressed zero with shaking fingers. When another operator picked up, he asked for the only other doctor he knew for sure had ever dealt with this sort of thing before.

  “I need the number for Urho Chase, please. Actually, just put me through. Ring until someone answers. It’s an emergency.”

  Vale sweated in agony, tossing on the basement floor. He’d managed to drink some water from the deep sink’s tap before the second wave started up, but he was still thirsty, and now he was too tired to crawl over and get his head under the spigot. That was part of what alphas were good for—taking care of their omega’s basic needs in the throes of heat.

  He heard footsteps upstairs. Two pairs of feet from the sound of it. He hoped it was only Rosen and Yosef, but, for all he knew, Rosen had disregarded him entirely and called Urho or, worse, Jason for help. If the door opened right now and either alpha descended the stairs, Vale knew he’d be helpless to refuse them.

  The heat was too much. The endless need overwhelming. How had he thought he’d be able to suffer through this alone?

  The alpha dildo he’d brought down barely took the edge off without alpha pheromones to soothe his need, but at least it pressed against his aching prostate and pushed against the slick-swollen omega glands that encouraged his womb to descend and open. It wasn’t enough, but it might keep him sane.

  It hadn’t even been a day. How was he going to get through four more?

  Voices rose and fell above him, echoing in the pipes and vibrating through the floorboards, but he couldn’t make out the words or tell from the timbre just who was speaking. The phone rang upstairs and he shuddered as the shrill tone seemed to vibrate irritatingly over his overheated, oversensitive skin. It went on and on and he wondered why Rosen didn’t answer it.

  But then it didn’t matter anymore because the next wave was coming. He desperately fucked the alpha dildo in and out of his ass, wishing Jason was here to do it for him, to lick his nipples, and suck his cock while soothing him on the dildo. Then Jason would throw the dildo aside, take his ass hard—

  Oh, wolf-god!

  He cried out, coming on the dildo and shooting a small load from his dick. It wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough. Not without an alpha’s sweet pheromones and their even sweeter knot to dilate against the glands and stop the shrieking need completely. He rolled onto his hands and knees and shook, shouting, arching his back, shoving his ass out, and senselessly seeking what wasn’t there. Needing it.

  And then the mind-numbing pain descended, crashing down on him like a fiery wave, sucking him under, reducing him to sweat and tears. Making him submit.

  “Miner!” Father’s voice echoed through the front hallway
and Jason nearly wept with relief.

  “We’re in the conservatory!” Jason yelled. His arms never left his pater’s writhing body, trying to hold him together as he bucked and fought whatever was happening inside.

  Earlier, the blood had become too great and Jason had stripped his pater of pants, covered him with towels, and tried not to scream in helplessness. He’d considered running into the street or banging on neighbors doors for help, but Urho was on his way and he couldn’t bring himself to leave his pater, and what could the neighbors do for him anyway?

  Father’s face was pale as snow and his blue eyes burned as he entered the room and raced to Miner, shoving Jason aside to wrap his arms around him. “Miner? Can you hear me?”

  “He just screams,” Jason said, tears running down his face. “There’s so much blood.” He motioned to the soaked towels and the mess on the floor.

  “Wolf-god, did you call his doctor?” Father asked, eyes wide.

  “I tried, but—”

  Father leapt up, turning toward the study door. “There’s no ‘but’. We need a doctor, Jason!”

  Jason grabbed his arm. “Father, wait! There’s a doctor coming. He’ll be here any minute. I couldn’t get through to Dr. Ruke, so I had to call someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “Urho Chase.”

  “The alpha friend of Vale’s?” Father sounded suspicious.

  “Yes, remember? He was a doctor in the military and he’s handled omega deliveries and miscarriages.”

  Father frowned. “I’d prefer Ruke. I know he’s trustworthy at least.” Pater screamed and blood seeped from him. Father went so pale Jason thought he might pass out. “We don’t have time to be particular right now. How much longer until he arrives?”

  “I don’t know. I called him right after I called for you. I don’t know where he lives.”

  Father lifted the towel Jason had used to cover Pater and swore. He reached down, trying to make some kind of adjustment, but that just made Pater scream again. Father fell over his back, soothing him and sobbing.

  The doorbell rang and Jason left his parents, shoes slapping on the wood floor, as he ran to answer it.

  Urho pushed him aside immediately and took off his ridiculous beret. “I assume it’s bad if you called me. Where is he?”

  Another cry from the conservatory turned Jason inside out, and he grabbed Urho’s arm, tugging him in the right direction. Words were gone. Blind panic held him now.

  “This isn’t good,” Urho said, as he entered the conservatory and took in the bloody spectacle.

  Father snarled as Urho approached, the defensive instinct of any alpha with an omega in distress.

  “Back off,” Urho barked. Then he turned to Jason. “I need to wash my hands, but I shouldn’t leave him. Bring hot water, and a lot of it.” He gripped Father by the arm. “Get it together and move away so I can see what’s happening.”

  Jason stuck around only long enough to make sure Father would allow Urho to help and then took off for the kitchen. He ran hot water and put a pot on to boil, too. Then he raced back to the study with the water, soap, and clean towels.

  Urho looked grim but thanked Jason and quickly washed his hands. “He needs to be in the hospital. Call for an ambulance.”

  “No hospital,” Jason whispered.

  Urho lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”

  Father draped himself over Pater again, soothing him.

  “There are illegal abortion drugs in his system. He uses them every heat.”

  Urho grimaced but said nothing more about the hospital. “All right. From what I can tell, the babe is caught, possibly ensnared by some scar tissue from prior miscarriages. But he’s small. It shouldn’t be a problem to get him out. The real issue is the punctured colon. That’s where the blood is coming from. He’s probably gone septic.” He frowned and shook his head. “Bring more hot water.”

  The next hour passed like a million years. Jason paced the room, his heart hammering and his mind racing. His father worked beside Urho, but Jason turned his back and stared out the window onto his pater’s garden, tears streaming down his face, as his father and Urho did what needed to be done.

  The sound of Father’s sobs and Pater’s screams of agony broke him.

  “He needs a transfusion,” Urho said eventually, once the screaming had stopped because Pater had, blessedly, passed out. “I don’t have any bags of blood, but I have the equipment to go person to person. What’s his blood type?”

  “Wolf 3,” Father said, his voice a dry husk. “I’m Wolf 2 and Jason is as well. What are you?”

  Urho grunted. “Wolf 1.”

  Jason turned around then. Pater was unconscious, as he had been since the worst of it began, resting on his side with towels around his lower half. Father knelt by his head, soothing him with strokes over his brow.

  Urho ran a hand over his face and cursed softly. “Who do you know close by? Anyone who might have Wolf 3? A neighbor? A friend?” His face brightened. “Vale’s Wolf 3,” he said urgently. “Call him. Now.”

  Jason ran to the study again to place the urgent call but once again there was no answer. He hung up and tried again. And again. And again. And again. Finally, the phone was picked up.

  “I need your help,” Jason blurted out. “It’s an emergency.”

  “Jason?”

  It wasn’t Vale, though. It was Rosen.

  “Hi, yes, it’s Jason. I need Vale. It’s an emergency. He needs to come to my house right away. It’s life or death. We need his blood.” He scrubbed a hand over his sweaty face. “My pater is… Look, Urho’s here. He said for Vale to come. Please send him. We need him or my pater might die.”

  “Oh, wolf-god. Jason, Vale can’t go anywhere right now,” Rosen said urgently.

  “But he has to!”

  “I’m sorry, but he can’t. Can you tell me more? What’s going on? Can I help?”

  “Isn’t he home?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “This isn’t a joke!” Jason’s mind raced, trying to think of anyone else he could ask for blood. Knocking on a neighbor’s door was still an option. They’d take anyone’s blood. Anyone at all. So long as they were Wolf 3. “My pater needs blood or he’ll die. Vale has the right kind of blood. I know he’s upset with me, and I deserve that, because I should have told him everything in his past didn’t matter immediately. But I was an idiot and I didn’t say anything at all. I know I’ll need to beg for his forgiveness and I will. But I also know he wouldn’t want my pater to…to…” He couldn’t say it again.

  Rosen was quiet for a long second that lasted for an eternity. “Jason, Vale’s in heat.”

  The room fell away and Jason sat in his father’s chair, dizzy and helpless. “No,” he whispered. “Not now. It can’t be now.”

  Rosen ignored his denials. “Can I help you? What does your pater need? You said he needs blood? What type?”

  In the background, behind Rosen’s soft breathing, he heard shrieks and cries for help, and then, in Vale’s ragged voice, somehow muffled and strange, he heard his own name. Over and over.

  It was too much. Life was hot and heavy and coming down on him like a storm. He couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating. He forced himself to whisper, “Who’s with him?” Urho was here, so he knew it wasn’t him.

  “No one.”

  “He’s doing it alone? He’s suffering?”

  “He didn’t say he wouldn’t consent to you, but he didn’t intend for you to know.”

  Jason hung up the phone. He pressed his hands to his mouth, holding back the shout of agony. He closed his eyes, searching his mind desperately for a solution, and he burst into terrified tears when he finally found one.

  He dialed Xan’s parents’ number, nearly weeping when Xan answered, sounding groggy but no worse for wear after their binge drinking. “I need your help. Now.”

  “Anything.”

  Grateful, Jason’s shoulders dropped. “Thank you.” Then he said, “Don’t
ask questions. Just do as I tell you. There’s no time.”

  He hoped his friend could be selfless for once and do as he asked. Everything depended on it.

  Sleep was so precious during the violence of an alphaless heat that Vale ruthlessly resented whatever had woken him from it. The next wave wasn’t on him yet, and he’d managed to drink some water and collapse into the nest for rest. Earlier, at some point, he’d heard the phone ring some more and then there’d been a lot of pacing, but eventually as the heat wave passed, things had grown quiet again.

  The sound of footfall on the steps brought him to full consciousness with a soft curse. “Go away, Rosen. I’m not fit to be seen like this.”

  “I’ve seen it all before,” Rosen said, appearing at the bottom of the steps. He was annoyingly handsome with his dark hair swept back in a bun and his equally dark eyes burning in frustration. He had no right to look so good while Vale was a mess of suffering. “You’ll want to come upstairs now so I can help you shower.”

  “What?” Vale shook his head desperately. “No. It’s not safe. I could run off again.”

  Rosen stepped and pulled Vale up off the ground, supporting him when he stumbled on shaking legs. “You’re weak as a baby right now. Besides, someone’s going to help you.”

  “No.” Vale shoved against Rosen. “No one can help,” he slurred. “Only Jason. And he won’t come. I made sure of that.”

  “Well, that’s for Jason to decide, isn’t it?” Rosen tugged Vale toward the stairs, and he considered resisting. But his muscles were sore from the makeshift nest on the floor and he felt filthy already, covered in sweat and slick.

  “He did decide,” Vale pointed out. “He didn’t come after me.”

  Rosen sighed. “Come on, Vale. Help me out here. You’re heavy.”

  Giving in to Rosen’s determined manhandling, Vale decided a shower would feel delicious. And then, if he was lucky, he’d have time to reason with Rosen before the next wave came on, and before whomever he’d enlisted showed up.