Omega's Unexpected: MM Werewolf MPREG Romance (Lucky Book 1) (2 page)

Stars dance in his eyes and then the dark cloak of sleep is cast over him before he can even register it.

No.

No.

Certainly not—he doesn't even understand why he's
entertaining
this notion.

He's not pregnant. It's unfeasible. It's biologically impossible.

The alpha had been infertile, whether it had been elective or not. The only reason that alpha could possibly have been permitted to partake in the 'program' that the OHC offers would be if he had unequivocally, with scientific evidence, proved that he is incapable of inseminating an omega. Otherwise, the purpose and core
function
of the OHC is invalid, and it may as well not exist, let alone be trusted by omegas.

Noah doesn't want to believe the OHC would allow fertile alphas to slip through their rigorous screening and tests, but… errors do occur, oversights do happen and it'd be just
typical
of Noah's luck that the one alpha who thought it'd be a fun old time to knock up an unsuspecting omega,
and manage to get away with it
, would be the alpha to have warmed Noah's nest.

He regards the pregnancy tests, stacked neatly in the omega hygiene products aisle of the werewolf run market, and he feels short of breath, submerged under icy, biting water. His chest is tight and pinched as he selects one and drops it in his basket, then another… and another, to be completely certain that he
isn't
pregnant. He wants three pregnancy tests to tell him his suspicions of his symptoms are ludicrous, and he's being unreasonable, becoming carried away with an inkling of disconcerting feeling.

The signs have been, and continue to be, too damning for Noah to ignore.

First, the heat. Or rather, the abrupt lack of. At his age, Noah's heats have reached a steady, predictable pattern. They begin intensely, burning through him, and then melt away over a two-day period of being continually sated by himself or an alpha. For years now, there hasn't been a deviation in that pattern, which Noah has always appreciated, but after the first bout of sex with the last alpha he'd been intimate with, Noah's heat had swirled into nothing more than vapor surprisingly, unnervingly, fast.

At the time, Noah had been satisfied beyond measure, pleasingly sore between his legs, and his heat ending a day early had only convinced Noah that the alpha had been
damn good,
the best Noah had experienced.
And it had knocked a nice, sizable chunk of money off Noah's regular bill.

There hadn't been anything to complain about.

Then the sickness had gripped him, sending him hurdling for the nearest bathroom at the strangest hours of day, and the scent of particular foods he hadn't at all minded previously now twisted his belly, taunting him with nausea, and he's had to send colleagues away for eating them nearby him.

It's troubling, and Noah's wants to be in denial of what these signs indicate to but that won't make him any
less
pregnant, should he have conceived.

He doesn't want to be pregnant, of course he doesn't, his chosen lifestyle is his motive behind enrolling in such a program, but if he is with child, then the OHC has failed him.

Once he pays for the tests, and feels the burning pity of the beta wolf cashier, Noah tucks the items away and scurries as quickly as he can possibly manage out of the district. He normally doesn't visit the area, normally doesn't subject himself to the company of other werewolves, being packless and unmated as he is, and the last thing he needs is a rogue alpha sniffing out his
possible
pregnancy.

The bastards tend to have keener noses than he.

As soon as Noah walks past the gate, guarded by figures he bows his head not to look at, he's back in the human areas again, his tests securely packed away in a bag. He rushes home as quickly as he can manage, practically falling over himself in his apartment's foyer, kicking off his shoes and stumbling into the bathroom.

When it comes time to do the test he's nervous, twisted up with anxiety, and he curses himself for not taking any contraceptives before the heat. He trusted the OHC—foolishly,
foolishly
believed they were safe. He thought he didn't need awkward, hormone-tampering pills and devices. And he'd been wrong.

It takes several glasses of water and too much coaxing before he can even manage to get the first test done. Finally, though, it sits on a paper towel on the counter and he stares at it, nauseated and wringing his hands.

The lines appear.

Two
.

"No, no, no,
no
," he exhales like a mantra. It has to be wrong. He'll do another one.

It's the same. Multiple, damning lines.

He tries a third.

Once again, the same.

Noah ends up throwing the last test which hits the tile over his bathtub and skitters into the basin and he gasps, a sob, and sinks to the floor. He's
alone
. He hasn't a pack or an alternate income. He can't very well go to work with a child growing inside of him, vulnerable and in public, and once he has a notable size the humans would grow too alarmed.

He thinks, raw and angrily, that maybe this would all be solved if werewolves provided some means with which to 'get rid' of such things, but they don't. Only humans have those services and they won't understand a male coming in asking after them. Worse, Noah's not even sure he could stomach going through with such a thing.

Which means he only has two options now: return to his family, their pack, or find someone else to take care of him.

The former is not happening. Noah would much rather die than contact his mother and that's the truth. They'll cast him into a hell of their own creation for
daring
to go and get knocked up with a
stranger's
seed.

Therefore, he needs to find alternate support.

And, Noah thinks vengefully, the alpha that did this to him is the perfect place to start.

Noah contacts the OHC the next day, when he's not quite so stunned over the fact that he's pregnant, by some inexplicable and unwanted miracle—though he isn't sure if he has yet to accept his pending motherhood, with his belly flat and no father in sight, it's too easy to convince himself that this is little more than a nightmare—and Noah is swift and
brutal
to dismantle their claims of client confidentiality when they have the
nerve
to spit that nonsense out to him.

He is absolutely
fuming,
and he sure as hell won't be using their services again—well,
hell,
he won't need to for a good while anyway—but his vicious wrath has the receptionist blurting out an address. Apparently, there isn't a contact number on the file, which Noah has to believe since he can sense the omega on the other side of the call
trembling
with fear, and Noah thinks '
good'
as he hangs up on her with no more than a measly address.

He isn't even given a name for the loathsome alpha that had done this to him. The omega can't imagine that the alpha wouldn't have been aware of his fertility so he'd likely tampered with the system. He must have. It was probably for a dare, a twisted, idiotic dare.

Worst of all, Noah can't bring himself to hate the blasted child that's growing inside of him. The father of the child,
yes
—with malicious ease, but the baby itself is innocent in all of this. For the most part, Noah tries not to think of the bundle of cells that's effectively ruining the livelihood he's worked so hard for, but when he does, and it's difficult to stop himself, there's never any ill feeling towards this tiny spark of life within him.

He's going soft already. A few weeks pregnant and he's as temperate as a kitten.

When he gets ahold of that alpha, Noah will make him regret this. That is, if Noah can pluck up the courage to go to the man's address.

"You're such a fucking idiot!"

Adam grins, unabashed and unashamed. "I said I was sorry!"

The fire chief stares him down and he's damn lucky the man's a werewolf too because any normal human would have booted him a long, long time ago, but instead the greyed man sighs and his fist uncurls and he gives Adam an entirely unimpressed look. "Yes, you did. But do you mean it? No. You never do."

"I can't help it," Adam says, raising his hands. "I can't just sit still when I hear some crying kid in a burning building—you know that. It's not like the smoke and stuff can kill me."

"Yes, but it
should
be able to," the chief complains, "and the others are starting to call you 'Lucky' because they think you're some kind of miracle man, not a fucking
werewolf
."

Adam grimaces but it's with a smile. "I guess I could try to tone it down."

"Look, I like you," the chief admits easily, "you're pack, you're a damn good worker, and we've gotten a lot of good press from your shit. But if you make it into the newspaper again it's going to stop looking like a coincidence and start looking like you're some sort of angel. And then what? We have to pull you. That's the end of that. You'll be sent off to farm labor for the omega commune. Do you want that?"

Toeing at the ground, Adam replies, "No…"

"Then knock it off," the chief tells him. "We'll put you on some EMT work for a while until you can cool your head. Medical work fine with you?"

Adam exhales in a huff. "That's what I started as, so yeah."

"Good—save people's lives
that
way. Got me?"

"Yeah, yeah," Adam confirms before he's shooed out of the office. He's even still in his fire suit, the talk not able to wait until he'd changed out, and he goes to his locker and strips out of it before heading on over to the bathroom. His face is ashy with black smudges and his hair is singed and he probably smells like, well… a house fire.

Adam grins, cocky, at his appearance and gives himself a thumbs up before he heads over to a urinal to piss.

His boss can't get him down, no siree. It's stupidly hard to make him feel guilty about doing a good thing and he's in a cheerful mood when he exits the restroom, whistling as he grabs his stuff and makes his way out to his car.

Nothing could make him feel more on top of the world right now except maybe a shower and a meat lover's pizza. And, as far as he's concerned, there are no better plans for how to spend his evening.

A ten-minute drive and he's home, sweet home.

The pizza delivery guy arrives in record time and, since Adam's in good spirits, he hands out a generous tip and is dubbed
'the best ever'
before he's left with his pizza. And it's a damn good pizza.

For the remainder of the evening, he intends to content himself with being as lazy as possible and he's lounging in a tank top and loose pajama bottoms, watching trashy TV and sipping from a beer bottle when the doorbell rings. He's not expecting his brother—Connor usually sends a text before he visits anyway, he's punctual and shit—and, unless they're drunk, his friends wouldn't show up at his doorstep unannounced.

Huh. Weird.

Adam mutes the TV and sets his beer bottle down.

It's probably his neighbor. That weird old lady likes to mosey on over and complain to Adam about, well, him. She doesn't like his 'strange behavior', and, as she frequently reminds him, she's always watching—looking for a reason to call the police. Whatever. No one will believe a crackpot elderly woman over him.

As he approaches the door, he inhales, scenting the air. It doesn't
smell
like his neighbor, the aroma she carries is fusty and sour and generally just gross, no, this is sweet and inviting like honeysuckle under the summer sun and strawberry fields. It's… nice—
really
nice—and Adam breathes in again, feeling oddly gentled and mellow as it saturates his senses.

The doorbell rings again. And again. And then whoever it is starts knocking, no,
pounding
at the door.

They're impatient, and Adam's hackles bristle as alarm begins to dance at the edge of his instincts. He doesn't know who would need to see him so desperately on an evening in the middle of the week.

Maybe they've got the wrong house.

Adam pulls the door open, not enough that it leaves the person able to invite themselves in, but enough that they can
see
Adam is most likely taller and stronger than them, should they be dangerous.

Once Adam looks out, however, he finds his gaze has to travel
down
.

Angry, bright eyes glower up at him and Adam immediately recognizes the person as a wolf—an
omega
wolf, in fact—and he's stunned enough that when the slighter male shoves the door in fury the alpha allows it to fall open, shuffling back as the other werewolf lets himself in. He's honestly not sure what to make of this because he knows every single member of his pack and this is definitely not one of them.

The intruding omega doesn't go deeper into his apartment, instead standing there and sucking in air through his nose until he's satisfied and the livid spikes in the smaller male's scent collect together in a tizzy, jittering with anticipation. Then he demands, "What's your name?"

"Um. Adam," the alpha tells him.

The omega's breathing heavy now, like he's going to hyperventilate, and it concerns Adam
a lot
. He feels uneasy, strange, and he wants nothing more than the poor guy to calm down but he's not sure
why
. It doesn't really make a whole lot of sense. Sure, alphas are weak to omegas and their needs, but this is someone he doesn't know and something about him plucks at Adam's heartstrings in a way that's new.

Then the omega's in his face, jabbing his chest with a finger.

"
How dare you!
How absolutely
dare you—!
" He's being scolded. "Did you think you could just get away with it? Did you think I wouldn't damn well notice a—,"

Adam quickly shuts the front door because he can just
tell
his neighbor's shuffled up to her window in eavesdropping mode. "Alright, alright, I'm the bad guy, I'm sorry," the alpha concedes, guiding the bizarre omega away from the entrance, which the other male seems to allow. As they reach the living room, however, the guy doesn't sit, instead standing there with his arms defiantly crossed.

"Yes, you are the 'bad guy'," the omega repeats with such venom that Adam winces.

"Alright, so… what's this about?" The alpha ventures.

If anything, the omega only becomes
more
incensed, stalking forward in a manner that has Adam tensing, but then the guy grabs Adam's wrist and places his hand against the omega's own stomach. "This!"

"... You're hungry?" Adam says, completely bewildered.

"I'm pregnant!" The omega yells at him, bringing the entire situation into very sharp focus.

A random, enraged omega who Adam
does not know,
at all, barging into his house and screaming at Adam is far too much crazy for one alpha to handle.

But a random, enraged omega who is also pregnant, well, Adam feels some of his hair going grey already.

He looks over the omega, gaze critical, and the guy is pretty, Adam finds, if his face wasn't screwed up in an expression of crimson hot fury, but Adam can't deny that he's attractive—though that isn't the point. The point is, Adam doesn't recognize him. Not even a little bit. In fact, he's thoroughly convinced that he's never seen this omega before in his life so why this stranger has decided to select Adam's home and violently announce his pregnancy, Adam hasn't the faintest clue.

The omega must be confused, and… really upset about it. Adam hasn't been exposed to pregnant omegas, especially the male ones since they have to hide from human society when they begin to show, but for all he knows this could be due pregnancy related hormones. Members of his pack have told him stories about their expectant mates and it's given Adam the distinct impression that pregnant omegas are
not
a force to be reckoned with.

What baffles Adam the most, however, is that he's pretty sure the omega is accusing Adam of knocking him up. His luminous eyes are as hard as diamonds, pinning Adam with a ferociously accusatory stare.

Whether or not the omega knows it—probably not, since they're total strangers—it's not
possible
for Adam to be the father. If his junk functioned like it's supposed to, then he'd already be happily settled with a mate and a gaggle of adorable, energetic children but… he
can't
get an omega pregnant. Ever. And as much as that hurts him, it pretty much knocks this omega's insane theory out of the park.

Plus, sex is heavily involved in creating a baby, and Adam would remember having sex with someone as cute and…
nuts
as this omega.

"Uh… look, I don't know who you are or why you're here, but that's not my baby." He knows the omega is about to protest, he spies the smaller male sucking in an angry huff of air. "No, seriously, I mean it. I'm infertile, I can't— I'm just not the father, okay?"

"You
are
the father!" The omega insists, apparently unwilling to be dissuaded by things such as logic and reason. "This is the address they gave me! I recognize your scent! I wouldn't mistake something as serious as this!"

Adam worries, distantly, that the little guy might be yelling loud enough that his neighbor doesn't even have to
try
to eavesdrop. And he's about to correct the omega again that, no, he can't be the father because that's fundamentally impossible, but before he can say anything the other werewolf continues:

"We only slept together
once
and then my heat ended. It ended because I
conceived
."

The alpha stares at him, head cocked, because now he's starting to worry that maybe he
has
slept with this guy and he just doesn't remember it. "The OHC?"

"
Yes!
" Comes the emphatic answer.

Adam wracks his brain for a 'slept together once' scenario and it doesn't take him very long at all because he does the math in his head. Freshly pregnant means a few weeks ago at least, he's not showing and his scent doesn't smell that strongly of it yet so that supports that theory.

Which means…

"Oh,
you
." Adam exclaims, snapping his fingers as he recalls it. "Yeah, yeah. I remember you! You were
awesome
."

The omega gapes at him, face staining red, and his scent lightens with the flattery albeit only for a moment before he reins himself in and his expression returns to petulant sourness. "
Now
do you believe me?" He asks, impatient.

Adam shakes his head in disbelief, but a sliver of doubt starts to wind through his understanding of the situation like a crack in a concrete column. "I can't, though. I'm infertile—,"

"
Not infertile enough
," the omega snaps.

Softening, Adam drags a hand through his hair and his guest's gaze follows the motion, frowning as he spots the blackened crisp of burnt hair.

"What happened…?"

Adam exhales a short burst of a laugh, "House fire?"

The omega's face flashes with surprise. Then suspicion.