22. Emmeline
22
Emmeline
“ A
re you feeling all right, Emme?” Dr Chapman asks, her voice warm but assessing.
I nod quickly, almost too quickly, my fingers tightening around Oscar’s. He hasn’t let go since he came back, and I don’t think I’m ready for him to.
The weight of his hand against mine is a soothing feeling, even as his tension hums through his body.
He’s still unsettled. Still worried.
But… he’s here.
“Yeah, I think so,” I murmur when she raises a questioning brow.
I glance between Oscar and Paxton, needing the reassurance that I’m not alone, but the moment I meet Paxton’s gaze, his lips curl into a smirk.
“Think so?” he teases. His voice is light but full of knowing.
I shoot him a dirty look for referencing what we nearly did in the examination room, but he doesn’t care about my admonishment.
Oscar stays silent, but his fingers twitch against mine. I squeeze his hand, just once, hoping he understands what I’m trying to silently convey.
I see you.
I’m here.
You’re not alone.
I understand.
Dr Chapman watches the exchange with her sharp, observant gaze, but she doesn’t comment on our interactions.
“Okay, then. We’ll go over everything we saw on the scan before we move forward with the rest of your checkup.”
Right. The checkup.
The reminder sends another ripple of nerves through me. What might she find? Will she realise I’ve not been eating properly? Could there be something else wrong that we’ve not seen on the ultrasound?
I’ve just… I’ve just met my baby. I can’t have anything take that away.
I press my free hand to my stomach, hearing the imaginary heartbeat in my brain. Unable to let go of the sound of life .
I take a deep breath and let the echo of their heartbeat ring through my mind, using it as a way to ground me in the moment. I can’t let my panic take over right now.
I can’t.
Oscar is still so unsettled, and Paxton is glancing between the two of us as if he’s waiting for one of us to break down.
I can’t let it be me. I can’t let him be responsible for calming me down again.
I won’t.
Dr Chapman’s voice smooths over the tension, her voice sweet and soft at the same time. “All right. I think it’s important we discuss a few things—particularly about your bond or the lack thereof.”
I stiffen slightly. So does Oscar.
His fingers slip from mine like the weight of the topic alone is enough to force distance between us.
That shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.
Goodness, I’m a sensitive girl these days.
My alpha leans back in his chair, jaw locked, his body folding inward. His grey eyes are piercing as they stare down the good doctor.
Paxton, on the other hand, just hums, clearly nowhere near as affected as Oscar by the conversation topic.
“That was the reason we made this appointment in the first place,” Pax says. “We’re wondering how we should proceed.”
Dr Chapman arches a brow, her eyes darting between the three of us in confusion. The notes of pomegranate in her scent thicken, the freesia softening.
“How you should proceed?”
Paxton crosses his ankles, his posture purposefully casual. “I want to court my mate, Dr Chapman. I don’t want to just bond her because she’s pregnant, unless we have to. I want to be able to earn her affections the way she deserves and give her the chance to love me before I force a bond onto her.”
I flush. Earn my affections the way I deserve?
Why is he so sweet?
Paxton looks at me when he says it, his brown eyes warm and steady, like it’s the simplest, most obvious truth.
But it’s not simple.
Not for me.
I said yes. I wear his bracelet, accept his position in my life, accept the chance to be courted and love.
But… I also don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to accept this kind of devotion, this kind of want.
I’ve spent years watching people fall into easy, instinct-driven pairings. They give in to their biology, letting it drive their interactions and their relationship.
Bond first, love later.
For a lot of scent matches, that’s the rule. That’s how things tend to work.
And here I am, knocked up, and… he doesn’t want to force me— they don’t want to force me. Paxton wants to give me time, give me the space, to let him love me before forcing something on me.
He wants something different. Something slower.
The fact that he understands what I need, what I want… it’s thrilling. My alpha knows what I need—even just a little.
Dr Chapman and I share a wry smile, but, before either of us can speak, Oscar cuts in.
“She’s an omega. She’s already gifted you her affection,” he says dryly. “That’s biology for you.”
I frown, and I don’t understand why his words make me feel so sad .
“The courtship is for Emme,” Oscar adds, giving me a gentle smile. “To give you time to accept us, to be able to trust in us and know that we’re unwavering in our love for you.”
Love.
The word sticks in my chest, heavy and unmoving.
I don’t even know what to do with it. It’s not the first time this pesky four letter word has cropped up, in feelings and in my thoughts.
It needs to fuck off and leave me alone.
“Omegas need stability,” Oscar continues, his tone measured, even though I can tell this conversation is frustrating him. “And this proves we can provide that. If we can meet her material needs, her emotional needs, and her?—”
“Yes, yes, Oscar, we know what a courtship is for,” Dr Chapman interrupts, waving a hand to cut him off properly.
But my lips draw to a pout as I try to smooth out my reactions.
Do we really know what a courtship entails, Dr Chapman?
I shift in my chair, quite uncomfortable with this conversation topic. I don’t do well with failure, and this is glaring proof that I’m a fuck-up.
A fake omega.
Worthless at understanding even the bare minimum of my designation.
I should understand the full ins and outs. But I don’t.
Because I never planned for this.
I never thought about courtship, or bonds, or pack structure, or any of the things omegas are supposed to consider and dream of.
I never let myself because I never thought they’d apply to me.
And yet… here I am with a courtship initiated and no time to research what it means. What I’m meant to do and how I can reciprocate to them.
Pax sprung it on me in the sweetest way this morning—also a little terrifying—and I couldn’t say ‘oh, give me time to go search what’s expected of me’ before agreeing.
I probably should have asked him.
But that then meant admitting how inadequate I am. Again.
Dr Chapman leans forward slightly, addressing her words to Paxton rather than me. “This is where it becomes difficult. As of now, Emme is stable just being around you. She’s able to draw comfort from your scents, your touch, and your bodies.”
Their bodies?
Heat flares in my cheeks, my mind immediately jumping to the obvious.
Dr Chapman doesn’t elaborate, but she doesn’t have to. Paxton’s smirk is more than enough.
She means sex.
Knots. Ruts. Fucking.
Oh, goodness.
Why does my scent have to give away my arousal right now?
“She means sex,” Oscar says loud enough for everyone to hear.
I glare at him. “I figured that out on my own, thank you.”
Paxton laughs, and since he doesn’t look at me, he misses the death glare I send his way.
“So, as of right now, we’re not under any pressure to bond. When will that change? When will Emme need our claim before it becomes too dangerous for her and the baby?” Oscar demands.
Dr Chapman pauses, and Oscar’s annoyance seems to peak. He doesn’t like uncertainties, and I know that he’s going to want an exact date to work towards.
“I can’t answer that,” she admits, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, blowing out a huff of air. “It all depends on Emme and how sensitive she is to her pregnancy.”
She adjusts in her seat, giving me a soft look that does very little to reassure my unease. “Looking through your history, you’ve already been hospitalised once. That’s not a good sign.”
Paxton tenses beside me. “She was without us then.”
His voice is quiet, but his guilt leaks through like this is a personal failure of his. Like he made the choice Uri did to walk away.
Fuck, I hate that.
Because that’s not how I see it. That’s not how it was.
I have no doubt in my mind that Paxton would’ve been here from the get-go if he knew. That he’d be by my side with sick bowls and wet cloths.
With water and cuddles.
He’d support me the best he could. Just like he has in the last twenty-four hours.
I shake my head, gripping his wrist before he can spiral further. His scent gland pulses underneath my hold, and I squeeze softly so he turns to look at me.
“That wasn’t your fault, Pax. You didn’t know .”
His brown eyes flick to mine sharply. They dart over my face as if searching for some truth that he thinks should be there. “Of course, it was.”
She made me think I was a bad alpha.
His words from last night come back to me, and I know I can’t let this panic take root. That I can’t let her twisted words affect him the way that so many destroy me.
“No, it wasn’t,” I say firmly. “I was sick, yes, but it wasn’t because of you. I didn’t even know I was pregnant. There was nothing you could’ve done.”
I hope he can hear me, that he can understand. Because, honestly, even if Paxton did know, I can’t say if I’d have relied on him.
If I’d have let him near me.
I was meant to be going into heat .
I don’t think past me—the one that existed before the baby and the scent matches—would’ve accepted him immediately.
Dr Chapman clears her throat gently, and I let go of Paxton so I can focus on her.
“Paxton isn’t entirely wrong, though, Emme,” she says carefully. “The reality is unbonded omega pregnancies can be… complicated.”
Complicated.
The word slams into my chest like a fist. My stomach clenches, my vision blurring at the edges, and I instinctively grab at it like I can hold my baby in place.
Like I can keep them safe if I just hold on tight enough.
I wish my little one could kick, could reassure me of life. Hell, I’d take walking around permanently with one of those wands inside me so I could hear their heartbeat on the regular.
Paxton’s grip tightens on the arms of his chair, his knuckles whitening. Oscar goes completely still, and I know that neither are taking this well.
I swallow hard, feeling a little lightheaded. “How complicated? I know the risks of having no alphas, but I thought…”
“Her mum died,” Oscar says, his tone devoid of any emotion. Oscar’s fingers twitch on his knee, but he doesn’t reach for me. I don’t know if that’s progress or not.
I flinch at his monotone voice, at the memories that surface within me. This time, it’s Paxton who reaches for my hand, squeezing softly.
“When?” Dr Chapman asks sharply.
“Giving birth to my brother and I,” I whisper, but it doesn’t matter how quiet I speak when my words carry around the silent room anyway.
I fill her in on my mum’s circumstances, and Dr Chapman makes copious amounts of notes, asking so many questions that I don’t have answers for.
“Thanks for sharing all of this with me,” Dr Chapman says. “I was not aware of that.”
The doctor gives Oscar a strange look, and another wave of curiosity washes over me. There’s a history here between the two of them, one I don’t fully understand.
I wish I did, though.
“Your assistant cut me off when I tried to go into my mate’s parental history,” he says darkly.
Dr Chapman lets out a breath of air. “I see. Well, let’s focus on the positives right now. You’re doing well at the moment, Emme. You seem to be a lot healthier than your notes indicate you were on discharge.
“How are you managing with fluids? What about food? Are you regularly using the bathroom?”
My cheeks flush, and a little part of me dies inside about having to talk about my bathroom habits to the men that… well, the men that want to love me.
“Fluids has been going well in the past twenty-four hours, and she’s been regularly using the bathroom,” Oscar says. “Food isn’t, however. She picks at the meals but doesn’t actually eat much of anything.”
I give him a dirty look for speaking for me. “I am right here, Oscar. I can answer for myself.”
“Will you answer truthfully?” he asks, not even bothering to look at me. There’s an edge to his words. Not anger but something .
It’s like I’m just another equation to solve. Another problem he needs to fix.
“I know how it goes with you omegas,” he continues when I don’t say anything. “You lie and downplay how you’re really feeling in order to not inconvenience anyone. Well, I won’t allow for that.”
My heart drops. Is that what he thinks of me? That I’d be this reckless with our baby’s life? That I’d lie at their risk?
I sniffle, looking down at my hands as my anxiety bubbles inside. My stomach churns, and there’s a burning sensation in my throat as acidic bile tries to force its way up.
“Oscar, we’ve talked about this,” Dr Chapman lectures immediately. “You are not the patient. You let them speak, and then you can share your thoughts.”
I peek at her from under my eyelashes, and it’s becoming so much more apparent that I’m missing something between them.
“Mine are the most accurate,” Oscar protests.
Paxton tugs me into his lap, rubbing my back as his scent pushes forward to soothe me. He brushes a gentle kiss against the scent gland on my neck, and I shiver.
He’s soft and sweet, and I find myself relaxing into his hold, even despite everything.
Fuck, maybe there is something to this biology situation.
“Enough, Oscar. You’re upsetting Emmeline,” Paxton says firmly.
I shake my head, the denial on my lips—the lie .
“Shh,” Paxton murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. “He knows what he’s doing is wrong.”
Based on Oscar’s pout, I’m not sure he agrees.
“How has the nausea been?” Dr Chapman asks. She gives a warning look to Oscar before giving me a warm smile. “Both before their support and since then.”
“It’s a little rough. Even with my pack around, I’m still throwing up.” A shiver wracks my body, and Paxton curls around me, offering warmth and stability. “I’m, um, pretty anxious, and that’s not helping matters, I don’t think.”
“Understood. I’ll prescribe you some medication to help with the nausea. You don’t need to take it regularly, just when you’re feeling sick. It should help, but call me if not.”
“Okay,” I say quietly.
Pax rubs my back. “And her anxiety?”
“Well, that’s where you both come in,” Dr Chapman says, regarding both my alphas with a firm look. Her scent darkens a little, the pomegranate souring almost.
It’s kind of cute, seeing an omega threaten my two alphas.
But, goodness, I wish I had her confidence.
“It is your job to ensure your omega feels safe, comfortable, and relaxed . That is extremely important for Emme and the baby right now.”
“My mate has a type A personality, and anxious is in her top five personality traits,” Oscar says, and I let out a pitiful whine.
I know he’s not trying to be hurtful but, fuck me, is he succeeding.
Implying that I can’t relax, even when it’s for our baby , is just so…
“True,” I whisper, shrugging off Paxton’s calming touch. “I don’t remember a time in my life where I haven’t been anxious.”
“Yesterday, in your nest?” Paxton says before Dr Chapman can. “You were so content, little treasure. Soft, calm, relaxed .”
“But that was only for a few hours.” I can’t help my protest, unable to let myself believe it. His words sit so uncomfortably.
Yesterday, in your nest? You were so content, little treasure. Soft, calm, relaxed.
And I had been. But that was only for a few hours.
It doesn’t count, does it? One fleeting moment of stillness compared to a lifetime of being on edge?
A lifetime of planning, calculating, overthinking—because if I didn’t, if I let my guard down, then who would keep me safe?
I’ve had to be this way, had to learn these behaviours, because nobody else put me first. Sure, it’s my personality now, but it’s a learned trait, a defensive one.
My fingers clench against my stomach, frustration burning under my skin. This is exactly why I never let myself need anyone before.
Because as soon as you do, they start pointing out your failures, pointing out all the ways that you’re not good enough.
They remind you that you’re not worth anything.
“Emme.” Dr Chapman’s voice is gentle but firm as she demands my attention. I glance up at her, my throat tight, the lump larger as I wait.
“I know it’s not easy to hear this,” she says, her tone laced with something akin to understanding. “But, right now, your priority has to shift. You’re growing a baby, and that means you can’t keep functioning like you’re alone.”
My stomach tightens into knots as tears well up in my eyes. She’s only echoing what I already know.
What my body has been begging me for since we stumbled into Uri’s office and got a whiff of his scent.
I’ve spent years forcing myself to be strong, to be independent. To make my own decisions, handle my own responsibilities.
To not rely on anyone.
And now?
I have two alphas waiting on my every move, watching for every reaction. Sure, Uri and Sterling are still unknown—but Oscar and Paxton… they’re here.
Now it lies with me.
I need to let them help me.
I need to do my best to trust them.
“I…” I swallow hard, looking down at my hands. “I don’t know how to stop.”
Paxton’s hand rubs slow circles over my back, warm and steady.
“You don’t have to stop anything, little treasure,” he murmurs. “You just have to let us be there while you keep going.”
That’s the problem, isn’t it?
Letting them.
I flick my gaze to Oscar, who’s still watching me, his sharp grey eyes narrowed, waiting for me to argue.
I should.
But I’m too tired.
Instead, I nod. Just once.
Dr Chapman watches me carefully, then lets out a slow breath. “Good. I think that the courtship you’re entering will only benefit you, Emme, and I know that it’s hard, but trust me when I say that this pack, they’re good people.”
“I know they are.” I rest my head on Paxton’s chest, blinking back tears as I reference Oscar and Paxton. Sterling. Uri… “I know.”
But if they’re so good, why did Uri leave me?
Why hasn’t he come back yet?
If he’s so good… why did he leave me when I needed him?
“Let’s talk about the risks and what we can do to support you as your pregnancy progresses.”
Oscar leans forward slightly, his expression unreadable but intensely focused. I know he’ll be cataloguing every single word she says, creating a mental file that he can cross-reference at every step.
Paxton’s grip on my hip tightens just slightly.
I brace myself.
“The biggest concern with an unbonded pregnancy is the regulation of the omega,” Dr Chapman explains, keeping her tone clinical. “Typically, a bonded omega has their alpha’s scent and claim to stabilise their body throughout pregnancy. It regulates their heat cycles, hormone fluctuations, and emotional stress levels.”
I frown, not sure I understand. “But I’m not going into heat right now. I can’t. I’m pregnant.”
Dr Chapman nods, and it’s clear this is a common question she’s encountered before. “You’re very right, but your pregnancy is triggering similar responses in your body.”
“Holy shit,” I whisper, looking up at Paxton in shock.
He lets out a low chuckle, despite the tension in his eyes. “You’re so cute.”
Dr Chapman’s lips quirk before she smooths out her expression. “Without a bond, your body won’t regulate as easily. You’ll be more sensitive to stress, to sickness, to overexertion. Your scent may fluctuate more drastically, leading to increased distress for both you and your alphas.”
Oscar sits forward sharply, his jaw tight. “And the baby?”
“Right now, everything looks good. But the further along you get, the more chance that could change,” she says softly. “We’ll need to monitor extensively.”
“So, we’re better off just bonding now and being done with it?” I say quietly.
“No,” Dr Chapman says, firmly shaking her head. “If you’re not all ready for that, then nothing needs to push you there right now. Baby is healthy, you’re seeming healthy, and, really, most of these concerns don’t kick in until the third trimester anyway.”
“They come with a higher risk of pre-term labour, right? Unbonded omegas have, what, a sixty-two percent higher chance of delivering before thirty-seven weeks?”
My heart clenches, my stomach drops, and I’m ready to throw up everything inside it.
“That’s not a statistic I’m familiar with, and I believe we’ve talked about this,” Dr Chapman mutters, rubbing her temples. She gives me a tense look, and it’s clear the frustration in her scent is directed towards my alpha. “Honestly, you and Lia must have a field day with him.”
Lia—Odelia.
Right.
I just give her a tight smile, unable to really answer that since I’ve never met the girl.
“I need a list of the things I can do to help my mate,” Oscar demands. “Along with any research you think I should read.”
Paxton fixes him with a look. “Darcie here might not say it, but I will—she doesn’t want you to read any research.”
Dr Chapman smothers a laugh, and some of the tension loosens in my chest. If they’re joking and laughing, it’s not too worrying, right?
Things can still be okay?
“You’ll need to be mindful of how your scent reacts to different environments, Emme,” she says when Oscar stares her down. “Without a permanent claim, you might find yourself becoming far more easily distressed, and you need to watch out for that.”
Paxton hums and presses another kiss to my temple, doing his best to soothe me. I rest my head on his chest, brushing a soft kiss to his scent gland.
“What kind of things are we looking for?” Oscar demands, and I’m startled by the intensity in his tone.
Dr Chapman tilts her head. “Heightened anxiety. Nausea, vomiting. Preferring solitude. Overstimulation.”
I shift in my chair, my mind racing as her words seem to go in one ear and out the other. I hope Oscar truly is cataloguing it all because I don’t think I am.
I don’t think I can keep up.
“Don’t worry, a lot of this is normal in pregnancy regardless. For example, you’ll likely start reacting more intensely to your alphas’ presences—seeking comfort, craving closeness, wanting intimacy. A normal symptom for all pregnant women, but it’s one that might cause heightened distress due to the lack of bond.”
“I see,” Paxton says. “So it’s not necessarily that she’s in danger, just that her responses might be more…”
“Dramatic,” I offer, causing him to pinch my side and utter out refusals of how that’s not what he meant.
I press my lips together, thinking back to how my scent spikes and how my emotions flip from excited to enraged or from embarrassed to anxious. How desperate I’ve been when around them, wanting to be close and wanting to spend all day sniffing at them.
It’s something I’ve been embarrassed over.
But she’s saying it’s normal .
That I am normal.
It makes sense how upset I’ve gotten over Uri leaving or Oscar needing a few minutes. How, even though it felt like a tear in my literal chest, Paxton’s warmth managed to calm it.
“And if I do start reacting badly?” I ask softly. “What if I am anxious or struggling? What then?”
Dr Chapman grins. “That’s where scent-marking comes in. It doesn’t have to be a bond, but regular scenting from your pack will help keep you stable. Close proximity, sleeping with them, wearing their clothes—that sort of thing.”
I flush. “You mean…?”
Paxton grins, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “She means we need to keep you covered in us, little treasure.”
“Scent-marking can be as simple as wearing their clothes or being around them frequently like I said ,” Dr Chapman explains, ignoring Paxton’s teasing, as she emphasises her words. “Skin-to-skin contact is also helpful, but it’s entirely up to what you’re comfortable with. That’s the most important thing—comfort. It’ll soothe your omega instincts and your anxious mind. Two birds, one stone.”
Paxton’s lips brush against my ear, causing another shiver. “I think she means with you naked, little treasure.”
I shove his chest back, but my stomach flips in excitement at the mental imagery.
Goodness. The arousal is insistent today.
Oscar nods. “And if her physical symptoms re-emerge? Or something goes wrong?”
Dr Chapman shrugs. “Then we adjust accordingly. If she starts feeling nauseous, overstimulated, or restless, then she likely needs more scent regulation and pack time. If she becomes overly lethargic or withdrawn, that’s something I want you to report.”
A pang of guilt flickers through me. I’ve already been doing that, haven’t I?
Withdrawing. Pulling away. Trying not to need them too much.
Trying to do this on my own. Relying on myself instead of them.
Paxton squeezes my thigh, drawing me back to the conversation. “We can handle that.”
Oscar, though, still looks like he’s analysing every worst-case scenario. “And what about nutrition? She’s not eating enough.”
My stomach drops, and I feel like crying. It’s stupid to feel like he’s picking on me or making things worse. He’s so focused on the negatives, on what can go wrong, that I’m terrified.
I glare at him. “I’m eating!”
He doesn’t even acknowledge me. “She’s not. She needs a meal plan.”
Dr Chapman gives him a warning look, but she nods, directing her words to me. “Omega pregnancies require steady energy levels, but nausea and stress can make it harder to maintain a healthy diet.”
I sigh, rubbing my stomach. I don’t want to engage because I’m getting frustrated. Angry, even.
We’ve already discussed this—keep me calm, then I’ll eat.
“So, what do I do?” Oscar asks. “How can I support her best?”
The bastard that he is. I sneer at him—well, if you can class a sneer as pouting lips and fluttering eyelashes. He’s being so sweet whilst being equally aggravating.
“Smaller, more frequent meals,” she says. “Light protein, gentle carbs—nothing too heavy. Keep hydration a priority.”
Oscar nods sharply, already filing the information away.
Paxton, on the other hand, smirks. “So, what I’m hearing is we need to feed our little omega.”
I groan, swatting his chest. “Do not phrase it like that.”
Dr Chapman chuckles, shaking her head. “I’ll send over dietary recommendations and a few scent-regulation strategies. For now, the most important thing is monitoring. If anything changes, let me know.”
Oscar doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll keep track.”
Of course, he will.
I shift, my body still processing everything. They aren’t bonding with me right now because they don’t have to. There’s no immediate danger, no threat to the baby—just small things to watch and adjust.
But still… I glance at Paxton in all his ease, then at Oscar in his fear.
There’s a new weight in the room, an awareness that this is only the beginning, that things could change, they could go wrong.
My baby is safe for now, and so am I.
Maybe I should be scared, knowing I have no claim to bind them to me. That Uri is out of the picture, and Sterling… well…
But all I feel is warmth. Because Paxton and Oscar are still here.
And, for now, that’s enough. It has to be.
Even if I can’t stop wondering… what happens when it isn’t?