Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
If he’s yours, you feel it in your heart when you look at him. Someone who belongs there.
He felt... the words felt true, deep in his bones. He felt full when he looked at Michael, like the world finally made complete sense. He wanted to swallow Michael whole, bones and breath, warmth and softness. When they weren’t close, it felt like there was this thread strung taut between them, invisible but unyielding. It tugged at him with every glance, every heartbeat. He couldn’t get enough of him, of his smiles and I love you’s. Michael was perfection wrapped up in one imperfect, lovely package. His. His mate.
His love.
“What’s with that face?” Michael said with a curious smile when Anthony reached him. “You look like you just got huge news and have no idea how to handle it.”
Anthony roved his gaze over that lovely face, over the warm dark eyes and beautiful smile, and just—he couldn’t stand it. He had to tell him. “I love you,” he said, taking Michael’s hand and bringing it to his face. He pressed his cheek against it, nuzzling into his hand greedily. “I love you.”
Michael stared at him with wide, startled eyes before a gorgeous smile lit up his face. He licked his lips and glanced around, which made Anthony finally remember that they had an audience. Shit, had he fucked everything up already?
“I take it this is your declaration of intent to court me,” Michael said, his eyes dancing with mirth. “Though I must say, it’s quite an unusual way of doing it.”
So he hadn’t entirely fucked it up, thank fuck.
Turning his face, Anthony pressed his lips to Michael’s palm. It wasn’t how alphas kissed omegas’ hands. He knew he was supposed to brush his lips against the air over Michael’s knuckles. But this felt more true. This felt more them.
Michael’s gaze became unbearably warm. “I want to dance with you,” he said.
Whatever you want, Anthony thought dazedly. I’ll give you whatever you want.
He could feel the speculative gazes on them as he led Michael to the dance floor, but he didn’t even glance at their audience.
Let them talk.
Let them gossip.
None of it would touch them. None of it would ever destroy what they had. He would not let it.
Anthony drew Michael into his arms, and they danced, the rest of the world fading away.
Epilogue
“An alpha. Your daughter will be an alpha.”
Anthony’s stomach dropped.
As though in a daze, he watched Michael thank the doctor and sign the necessary paperwork.
Not for the first time, he wondered if it would have been better if Pelugians didn’t test newborns for alpha and omega genes. Maybe it would have been easier if they simply found out that their daughter was an alpha in some fifteen years or so when she presented, the way they did things in Kadar.
Anthony stared at the baby sleeping peacefully in his arms. The odds had been much higher for Viola to be an omega or beta. Born female alphas were extremely rare, after all.
His mother had been one.
“Stop freaking out,” Michael said, taking the seat beside him. The doctor must have left, then.
“I’m not freaking out,” Anthony lied.
Sighing, Michael took their daughter from him and gently set her down in the cradle before turning back and taking Anthony’s hands into his.
Parenthood suited Michael. He was glowing with it, his features even lovelier than they used to be, his scent exquisite. Anthony had thought Michael might struggle with pregnancy, that it would feel like something alien to someone who used to be an alpha, but Michael had thrived, handling his pregnancy better than most born omegas—he remained good-natured and clear-headed, with no strange cravings or bouts of hysteria. He looked good with Anthony’s child in him. He had glowed through his pregnancy, and he was radiant now. Anthony struggled to look away from him sometimes. He found himself distracted again, leaning in to nuzzle against Michael’s cheek. He smelled like home. He smelled like his.
“Babe,” Michael said, running his hands through Anthony’s hair. “Look at me.”
Pulling back a little, Anthony looked at him.
Michael’s expression was soft but steady. “I know what you’re freaking out about, and I think it’s bullshit. You’re going to be an amazing dad, whether Vi is an alpha or an omega or a beta.”
Anthony grimaced. You don’t know that.
Michael sighed, as though he were reading his thoughts. Sometimes, it truly felt like he did. Maybe he did—their mating bond was strong, giving them a deep sense of each other’s emotions. “I know your relationship with your mother turned horrible as you approached your presentation, but it was her fault as much as yours.”
“How would you know? You didn’t know me back then.” Anthony laughed harshly. “Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I just can’t get along with other alphas. Some alphas are like that.” It was well known that some alphas were less tolerant of other alphas than most.