Chapter 16 #2
Lyra ignored me, snapping her gaze back to Gregory. “We can go to the village tomorrow. I know Evan will love it. You can’t hoard him all for yourself.” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest in a cute imitation of his own stance.
A bigger figure appeared in the doorway behind Gregory. “You know she’s already won, son,” Adam said in a playful tone. He glanced past Gregory, finding me. “This home will always welcome you, Evan. You should both stay.”
My gaze flicked from Adam to Gregory, and I offered him a small, shy smile. The effect on Gregory was immediate. The smirk vanished, a broad, brilliant grin transforming his entire face and chasing away all the shadows.
“Yes!” Lyra jumped up and down once before throwing her arms around me in a tight, celebratory hug. Her joy took me by surprise with how open and straightforward it was.
I stood there for a beat, stiff and awkward in her embrace, an imposter at a family reunion. My arms rose to wrap around her. It was strange, accepting the support and friendship they offered, but it wasn’t a bad sensation at all.
Dinner ended up being a rather unique affair.
In the kitchen, Adam and Gregory had taken over the cooking, moving around each other like two bears.
Despite the space being larger and better equipped than Gregory’s cabin, they were so massive they filled it, bumping shoulders and grumbling at each other with every move.
There was a surprising comfort in it. The depth of their voices, the effortless way they worked together, that sense of ease that persisted through the rest of the meal. When dinner was finally over and the day had officially caught up with me, Adam led me upstairs.
The guest room was simple, but it had a warmth my polished penthouse could never match.
The bed was huge, built from thick wood and covered in faded floral blankets.
Candles burned in iron holders on the vanity, their flames painting the wooden walls in warmth.
Moonlight cut through the window, washing the uneven floorboards in silver.
Bundles of dried lavender hung from the ceiling beams.
I gazed out into the forest while drying my hair with a thick cotton towel. After the day I’d had, the offer of a long soak in a hot bath had been readily accepted, and the simple comfort of being clean was a luxury I cherished.
The nightshirt Lyra had given me earlier was smooth against my skin, a world away from the rough linen and wool I’d grown used to. It was an oversized shirt that fell to my knees, but unlike Gregory’s clothes that drowned me, this fit like it was made for me.
A soft knock came at the door. I set the towel on the bed frame and opened it, finding Lyra standing there with a brilliant smile. She’d twisted her hair into a messy knot, and her nightgown was the color of a pale rose. She carried a neat stack of folded clothes.
“I knew it would fit you.” Her gaze took in the nightshirt I had on, and she handed over the stack. “I brought you some things for tomorrow.”
I ran a hand down the silky fabric covering my chest. “Thank you for everything. I have to admit, I can’t picture Adam wearing something like this.”
Lyra tilted her head, a confused little frown creasing the space between her brows.
“Not Father. Those were my papa’s.” She offered me the new clothes.
“These were his too. He passed away while giving birth to me, so I never knew him. But Father preserved all of his clothes. He’s happy to lend them to you. ”
Taking the folded clothes, I automatically crossed over to the small vanity table and set them down. Only then did her words register. I placed a hand on my waist and pinched the bridge of my nose.
A man. Gave birth. Of course. Why would anything here make sense?
“I’m… sorry for your loss.” The phrase felt inadequate even as I said it.
“It’s okay.” Her gentle smile returned. “Father said you and Papa are about the same height and build, so—”
“Wait. Lyra, how did your papa get pregnant?” I cut her off and bit the inside of my cheek, wishing I could snatch back what I had asked. It was none of my business—likely considered invasive and rude—but my curiosity had moved faster than my filter.
Her smile faltered. “Oh. Um, you don’t know? Right…”
I shook my head, and she gestured to the small chair by the vanity. “Maybe you should sit down.”
I sat, bracing myself for the next bombshell.
Lyra chewed on her lip, her gaze darting around the room as if searching for courage.
She took a deep breath and let out a small, nervous laugh.
“Alpha, beta, omega… Those are our secondary genders. And male omegas… are born with a womb. So they can have children.”
I nodded, my brain short-circuiting. “Oh. That’s… a surprise. But how does that—” A thousand questions threatened to unload, my head spinning with the impossibility of it all.
Lyra’s face went beet red. She clapped her hands together once, the crisp smack cutting through my spiraling questions. “I have to go! I’m sure Gregory would be happy to answer any other questions.”
As if summoned, Gregory’s head peeked through the open doorway. “You called me?”
I jolted, staring at him. The stairs outside the room creaked under the slightest pressure, yet he had climbed them without me hearing a thing. For a mountain of a man, he moved like a goddamn ghost.
My breath caught in my chest as I took him in.
Gregory must have come from the bath too.
His dark hair glistened with water, combed back from his face with a few errant strands clinging to his forehead.
He wore a long, dark robe secured with a single, loose knot at his waist, and dark trousers that hung dangerously low on his hips.
The open robe revealed a roadmap of veins across his abdomen, tracing a path down into the shadows below his waistband.
I swallowed hard, forcing my eyes back up to his face. Gregory’s lips twitched, like he knew exactly where my gaze had wandered.
“Well!” Lyra’s cheerfulness was a little too bright. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” She began backing away toward the door. “Remember to get ready for the village tomorrow!” she called over her shoulder before slipping out of sight.
The door clicked shut. As if on cue, Gregory lifted a hand, and the candles dimmed, deepening the shadows in the room.
My pulse hammered in my ears. The room, cozy moments before, was now tiny, charged with a tension that was all about the man still leaning against the entrance.
Gregory straightened his body and crossed his arms. The pose mimicked the one on the porch, but inside this small room, it became ten times more predatory.
My body heated in response, and I bit down on my lower lip as I fought for control.
The only way to deal with this magnetic force from him was to go on the offensive.
I crossed my arms. “You forgot to mention a few things. Minor details. Like the part where men in this world can give birth.”
He answered with a chuckle, then closed the distance, walking toward me with a slow stride that consumed the space between us. He stopped in front of my chair, towering over me.
“What do you want to know?” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.
My crossed arms loosened, and my hands dropped to my lap, palms pressed flat against the fabric of my nightshirt. “Everything,” I breathed out.
Gregory leaned forward, bringing his face closer to mine. His hand rose, and before I could lean away, his fingers slipped under my chin, tilting my face upward so I couldn’t look away. His eyes were burning once more, twin pools of blue fire edged with crimson.
I pressed my hands harder into my lap, the effort meant to stop the frantic, desperate instinct dragging me toward him. I tried to tear my gaze away, but the heat in his eyes kept me rooted.
His scent—that dark sandalwood and smoke—rolled off him in waves, thick and suffocating. My breathing hitched, turning shallow and ragged. Heat pooled deep in my belly, and a humiliating, undeniable slickness bloomed between my legs in complete betrayal by my own body.
“I can smell how much you want to learn,” he murmured. “Your body is already pleading for the lesson. Should I show you what you’re begging for?”
I suddenly understood what he meant by learn, and it had nothing to do with talking. I did not know this man, and I wanted to resist what he offered. But the dark, desperate corner of my soul was begging for it.