Alpha Ever After (Midnight Liaisons Book 5) (10 page)

I’m dying to take care of you. Let me take care of my mate. Let me be there for you.

I expect her to put up more of a protest. Instead, she just stares at me, wide-eyed, and then nods. “Okay.”

And I feel another surge of fierce satisfaction.

I push the water bottle into her hand and pound down the stairs. I’ve got my keys in my hand before I realize I’m not wearing a stitch of clothing.

Whoops.

I race back upstairs, grab the dirty clothing I have with me, shove my feet into my shoes, and then race back out to my truck. I know what Savannah needs, even if she doesn’t. She needs oysters, and liver, and chocolate. My ma lived on those when she was pregnant. Said it was a wolf thing. That wolf babies always needed a ton of iron and she had to stockpile.

I bet it’s the same for Savannah.

I slide into the truck cab and then put the keys in the ignition. I don’t start it just yet. Instead, my hands clench the wheel tightly as I try to work through the mixture of joy, pride, and frustration surging through me.

That baby in her belly -
my
baby - is a wolf. Does she know that, I wonder? She can’t shut me out forever. Only wolves know how to raise other wolves. Savannah can try to stick a wolf in with her kitten cousins, but pack is ingrained in our souls. He’ll come find us, no matter what.

I need to make Savannah understand that she’s mine, and so’s our child.

First, though, I need to feed my mate.

I drive at a breakneck pace to the closest grocery store, and buy every can of oysters they have on the shelf. Next, I clean out the candy bar aisle, and then swing back to the meats, looking for fresh liver. I toss in a few onions for cooking, some bottled water, and then head to the checkout.

The woman at the register blinks at my random foods, and then looks at me. “Pregnancy cravings?”

I nod, unable to stop the beaming smile from crossing my face. I’m taking care of my mate.

The woman smiles back. “Aren’t you a sweetheart. She’s a lucky woman.”

Someone should tell Savannah that.

I load the truck up, already feeling as if I’ve spent too much time away from Savannah. I tear back down the highway again, open the gate to my farm - our farm - and then roar down the gravel path. I screech to a halt in front of the house, grab my groceries, and race back inside, somehow worried that Savannah’s gotten it into her head to get up while I’ve been gone and fell down the stairs.

But the house is silent when I get inside, so I set everything on the counter except for a chocolate bar, a can of oysters, and a bottle of water. These, I take upstairs — food offering 2.0.

Savannah’s curled up in bed still, all belly and breasts, her hands curled around her stomach. She gives me a sleepy smile when I return to the room, and my wolf growls low inside me, full of yearning. How long has it been since she’s smiled at me?

“I’m fine, Connor,” she says as I return to the chair next to her. She yawns. “And I’m not really hungry anymore.”

“I want you to eat this anyhow,” I tell her, and peel open the pop top metal container of oysters.

She sits up, her nostrils flaring as the scent hits her. “What on earth is that?”

“Oysters,” I say, and offer her the container. “It’s a wolf thing.”

Her gaze flicks away from my face.

“It’s a wolf thing,” I repeat again in a low voice. “I don’t know if you’re carrying a wolf cub inside you. All I know is that when wolf females get pregnant, unless they eat a lot of this stuff, they tend to vomit a lot. They crave red meat. And they take a lot out of the mom.”

She blinks rapidly, and I watch as a tear spills down her cheek.

“Hey, hey,” I whisper, putting aside the oysters to cup her cheek. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here and I’m not leaving you.”

“Twins,” she says with a sniff.

“What?”

Her wet gaze finally meets mine. “I’m having twins. And I’m pretty sure they’re wolves.”

I
snuggle further
down into my pillows, not quite ready to wake up and face the day yet. If I do, I have to think about the whole Connor thing. And I’m not sure what to do about that yet.

There’s no denying that he’s excited about the babies. When I told him they were twins, I thought he’d fall out his chair in sheer joy. I’d loved seeing that. It’d made me feel…relieved? Better, knowing that he was excited to be a dad two times over.

The fierce, possessive pride in his gaze over them being wolves, though? I don’t know how to take that. I mean, I could be wrong and I might just have the world’s most ornery cougar twins in my stomach, and Connor will be disappointed. But I somehow doubt it. I don’t think Connor would be disappointed if I gave birth to twin girls with cat ears. He’d love the hell out of them. But…I’m still pretty sure they’re not cats. Labeling my children as ‘wolf’ has put to rest so many questions that I had.

Even stupider? Eating those oysters last night settled my stomach. He was right.

I guess I can’t hide from the day forever. I yawn and slowly open my eyes, the scent of wolf all around me. Early morning sunlight is peeking in through my blinds, sending dust motes dancing. Connor’s across from the bed, drowsing in a chair. One of my pregnancy magazines is spread across his chest.

He’s stark naked.

“Um, Connor?” I venture.

He snorts awake, then gives an oddly wolf-like little whuff as he sits up. “What? What is it?” One hand steals across his eyes and he rubs them.

“Why are you naked?”

He tosses the magazine aside and rubs a hand down bare, tanned chest. The grin on his face tells me he’s not sorry in the slightest for the morning wood he’s sporting. “I borrowed your washing machine and cleaned my clothes off. Didn’t bring a change with me.”

There’s a retort about wearing a towel on my lips, but it does a quick death. Instead, I ask him, “So you weren’t planning on staying?”

Connor gets to his feet. “Nah. Was just going to check on you. I’m glad I did, though.” The look he gives me is reproachful. “You stay there and I’ll get you some oysters to start the day.”

That should make my stomach turn. Instead, I settle back in the pillows with a yawn. “And some water, please.”

“Oysters and water, coming right up.” He jogs out of the room and I watch his tight ass flex as he heads down the hall, then thumps down the stairs. I mean, if he’s shoving it in my face, I might as well look, right?

I daydream in bed for a bit, and by the time Connor thumps back up the stairs with my breakfast, I’m a little disappointed to see that he’s put on his still-wet jeans. Oh well.

I sit up and he hurries over to fluff my pillows. “Let me help with that.”

“Thank you.” I adjust the covers over my big belly and he hands me the water and the oysters. For some reason, the scent of oysters makes my mouth water and I scarf them down quickly, then sip my water. This might be the first morning that I haven’t wanted to puke my brains out in a long time.

Go figure.

“How are you doing?” he asks, looking me over. “Do you want more oysters? Some toast? Coffee?”

I wave a hand at him. “I’m fine. Really.”

“You want a foot rub? I read in your magazine that women’s feet get swollen and it helps if they get rubbed.”

I start to protest…and then stop. If a handsome man — even one as irritating as Connor — is offering me a foot rub, who am I to turn it down? “I guess so.”

He grins at me like I just gave him a present, and sits on the edge of the bed. I try not to feel weird about things as he peels back the covers, takes one of my non-swollen feet in his hands, and begins to rub. And then I have to stifle my moan of pleasure, because god, that feels incredible. His fingers knead my foot, and I nearly come off the bed with how intense the sensations of pleasure shooting through me are. Nothing on earth should feel that good.

I…might have to request a foot rub on a regular basis.

“That feel okay?” he asks, massaging my sole.

‘Okay’ is an understatement. “Yeah,” I say, but it comes out breathy and sexy. Dammit. My nipples are starting to react, too. It’s just a stupid foot rub.

All right, it’s the best foot rub ever, but I still shouldn’t be acting like a horny teenager. I’m six months pregnant with twins. I’m not exactly at my hottest.

As if he can sense my train of thoughts, I watch his gaze flick down to my belly as he rubs my foot.

“What?”

“Can I…touch your stomach? See if they’re kicking?”

“They’re always kicking,” I grumble, and as if on cue, someone jabs me in my bladder. I wince and adjust my seat on the bed. “But okay, sure. Come on over.”

A masculine grin of delight crosses Connor’s face and that makes my hormones jump all over again. He puts my foot down and slides a bit closer on the bed.

As a pregnant lady, I’m used to having my stomach grabbed by everyone and their brother. It’s like wearing a sign that says “touch me”. But this feels way more intimate. Like it means something.

This is Connor, meeting his children for the first time.

My eyes get a little misty at the thought and I push the covers down, exposing my stomach. I’m still in my sundress from last night, but the material is thin and cool, and my stomach definitely protrudes.

Reverently, he places a hand on one side of my stomach. His fingers are light as they trace the swell of my belly, and then he lays his palm on the top of my stomach. Disappointment crosses his face. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Just give it a minute,” I tell him. “Someone’ll move. Just be patient.”

“I was never a very patient man,” Connor tells me. “Just ask my family about Christmas.”

I smile despite myself. “You’re a snooper?”

“I’m not a big fan of secrets, and Christmas felt like one big secret. I hated not knowing what was in the presents, so I’d steam the tape open, unwrap just enough to see what was inside, and then reseal it.”

I laugh. “You sound like a horrible child.”

“Child? I was talking about last year.” He gives me a wink.

Laughter peals out of me, and I’m unable to stop giggling. As if responding to my amusement, a foot kicks my belly sharply. I wince at the same time that Connor jerks his hand away.

His eyes are wide. “Holy fuck.”

“Felt that?”

“People two cities away felt that.” He gingerly puts his hand back on my belly, and one of the babies shifts, my belly feeling as if it’s turning over. “Holy…this is amazing, Savannah.”

I nod, a knot forming in my throat. “Yeah. It is.”

“Do they move a lot?”

“All the time,” I say, and the baby kicks in response.

There’s awe on his face as he puts both hands on my stomach, feeling the babies move. “Hi there,” he whispers. “I’m your daddy.”

Guilt twinges through me, that I’ve cut Connor out of my life for the past few weeks, determined to move forward alone. Like it or not, he’s part of these children, too. My own sense of hurt and betrayal wars with the wonder I see on his face as he talks to my stomach. He’s their father and he needs to be in their lives, especially if they’re going to be wolves.

Me shutting him out is just selfish. Even if we’re platonic, he needs to be involved with the kids.

I settle back in the pillows, content to let him press his ear to my stomach and listen to the babies. His hair is tousled, and my fingers itch to play with it, to smooth the errant cowlick sticking up on one side of his head.

“What names?” Connor murmurs, and his hand strokes my belly as if touching one of our children.

“Huh?” My skin prickles at his touch, distracting me. A simple stroke should not feel that good.

“What names did you pick out?

Oh. “I haven’t really thought about it yet. There’s been a lot going on.”

He sits up, looking concerned. “Other health issues?”

“No.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe me. I should point out to him that the only health issue left is if it’s safe to get into a shower after one of the Primordials. But we’re keeping things on the down-low with the Primordials, and I don’t want to tell Connor all about it because, well, I don’t trust Connor. He’s lied to me before.

“It’s nothing,” I say and keep my voice light.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you’re a dick?” And just like that, our little truce is gone. I’m getting cranky at the way he’s stepped in like he owns the damn place.

Then I remember he does own the place, and that makes me even crankier.

I glare as he sits up and reaches for one of my feet. When he takes it in his hand and starts to rub it, I want to melt into the mattress. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to soothe you. It’s clear you’re being hormonal and not thinking straight.”

Oooh, that jerk. I resist the urge to kick him and wrestle my foot out of his hands. “I need to get going.”

“Why? Where are you going?” Connor’s eyes narrow at me. “You don’t work until the night shift. Which is also something we should talk about. I don’t think you need to be on the night shift up there. You’d be better off during the day shift. More people around. Plus I can pick you up after work.”

I get to my feet and rub the small of my back. “Well, that sounds like incentive for me to never change my shift. No one said you had to insert yourself into my life, Connor. I’m doing just fine without you.”

“Clearly,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “That’s why you moved into my house and then fainted in the bathroom.”

I flush at the reminder and walk (okay, waddle) over to the closet to get fresh clothes. I don’t work until late, he’s right about that. But I have Primordials to pick up and educate. Today we’re supposed to be going to Wal-Mart to test out how they do in public. If they don’t behave…well, it’s Wal-Mart. “I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

My phone chooses that moment to buzz with an incoming text. I pull a pregnancy blouse out of the closet and turn just in time to see Connor picking up my phone and reading the screen, a scowl on his face.

“Hey!” Bossy alpha jerk. “That’s my phone.”

“Who’s Craig?” His voice is flat, angry. Furious.

For a moment, I have no clue who Craig is. It doesn’t ring a bell. I move to his side and snatch my phone out of his hand, reading the message.

Oh.
That
Craig. The guy dying to be a daddy. The were-cougar that just moved to Texas. “Oh. He’s just a friend.”

A growl starts low in Connor’s throat. “He’s asking you out on a date.”

Yeah, I noticed that. I also notice Connor’s jealousy. For some reason, it makes me feel good. Lord, that probably makes me as possessive as Connor is. “Seems like it.”

Connor points at the phone. “Tell him you have a mate and if he contacts you again, your mate is going to stomp his ass.”

I scowl down at Connor. “That so?”

“Yeah.” The growl returns to his throat.

So Connor assumes that because I moved into the house he tricked me into, that we’re mates now? That everything’s just forgiven? That all the times he’s pushed his way into my life and pushed into getting what he wants that I’ll be okay with it? I flick him a glance and then start to text Craig.

Craig’s response comes less than a minute later, which means he’s eager.

Hope he likes tag-alongs, because I’m going to bring Eoghan and Galen with me. Cahal, too, if he’s been found. It’s not that I want to go out, but I am bound and determined to teach Connor a lesson. I return to my closet. I put aside the blousy shirt I’d picked out and pull out a simple black dress and hold it up to me. It’s low cut - too low cut for my pregnancy boobs - and probably too tight across the belly.

“Well?” Connor growls.

I turn and pretend to consider the dress, my phone in my hand. “How do you think this would look for a date?”

“A date?” His growl turns into a snarl. A moment later, he’s on his feet and in front of me. He snatches my phone out of my hand, stares at the messages, and then looks at me with wild eyes. “Savannah, you can’t date that ass. You’re
mine
.”

“Who says?” I keep my voice light and snag the phone back out of his hand. I pull the dress’s waistline against my belly. Yep, definitely too tight.

“I do.” His voice is soft and intense. “Do I need to show you?”

I shove the dress into his arms. “Wait, let me guess. This is the part where you kiss me until you overwhelm me, right? Because you figure as long as I like being kissed by you, that nothing else matters? No problem if it ruins my life, right? That’s not important. Clearly.” I gesture at my belly. “With you, what I want is never important.”

His nostrils flare with anger and he snarls, then shoves himself away from me.

Yeah, so that was a low blow and I don’t even care. I’m tired of Connor deciding what he thinks I should want, or who I should see. I’m my own person, not that he seems to notice that. “The problem with you is that you think I’m one of your wolves,” I call after his back as he leaves the room. “You can’t just say ‘jump’ and expect me to say ‘how high’. I’m not one of your people!”

I hear his feet thud down the stairs and a moment later, a door slams.

I squash my hurt feelings. Truth is, I should be mad at Connor. I
should
be. He thinks his word is law, and my wants and needs don’t matter. I smooth a hand down my rounded belly. My situation is all the evidence I need of this attitude, and I’m tired of it.

And even if I want to call him back and tell him I didn’t mean it, and have him rub my feet and look at me like I’m the world’s sexiest woman, that’s just me being weak.

Sooner or later, Connor’s going to have to learn that he can’t control me. I’m my own girl. My own beast. And I don’t answer to him.