Chapter Twenty
Mads
He couldn’t lay on his front. That was the biggest pisser of all of it. Face down was his favorite napping position, and it’d been stolen from him yet again. He recalled that with Rexford it’d been much the same. And with little Morgana? From four months forward, he’d been deprived.
He groaned as he tried to lay on his side at a more forward angle, hand resting on his omega line.
The damned thing burned the last weeks of pregnancy.
Had done so previously and was no different this time.
So much was familiar, and so much different.
The nausea was different this time, more pronounced at the end.
She liked to use his stomach as a kickboard.
He was bigger this time, as a consequence of the ligaments already being relaxed from his first pregnancy. Not as many twinges.
He’d been alone for the better part of two days at that point.
Marquis had found another omega and a den of Baron’s belongings that needed to be parsed through.
For a male that had exhausted all of his finances, he sure had many storehouses filled with money and supplies.
Mads had been instrumental in recovering some of it, vague memories piecing together to form images that helped them track down stores of things that likely even Baron had forgotten about.
The last ten years had not been kind to Baron, on his magic or his mind.
On a whim, Mads shifted, kicking off his pajamas as he rolled over to lay on his front in raccoon form.
The little shape of his babe within settled far easier that way.
And, lacking fingerprints, he typed out the passkey for his phone and propped it on a blanket fold to scroll through baby items. Their nursery had been long since done, set up in pretty shades of lavender.
Still, there was always more a nesting omega could add.
A polite knock came from the door and Mads gave a bark of consent, watching it swing open as a female that worked with the bearers of the coven, both omega and other females, popped in with a smile.
Helena? The covenmaster’s house had a no-knock sort of policy where anyone came in, but Marquis’s bedroom and office was off-limits.
“Mads, how are we feeling?” Helena smiled, lips stretched into a wide sort of grin that held a note of pity in it. Mads gave a thumbs-up as best he could in his little raccoon form.
“Dr. Vans asked me to drop something off for you.” She held up an envelope, fat with papers. The DNA test. Mads sighed and sat up while she brushed dark hair off her shoulder and tugged her blouse to straighten it. “Up and off the keister! No more lazy trash panda party.”
He chittered with detest and glanced from his phone that he’d been idly shopping onto the envelope. Part of him didn’t want to know the results.
Mads waddled to the end of the bed where his pants had gone to and maneuvered his lower half into them to shift into the pants to spare her a glimpse of dingdong.
Because if Mads couldn’t see his own junk, neither was anyone else.
Even Marquis… Unless he wanted to do something with it…
And even then, only with the lights out.
Mads couldn’t make himself feel sexy this late in his pregnancy.
“Impressive.” She clapped her hands a little and Mads shot her a glare.
“Shifting into one’s pants is parlor tricks.”
“Well, yes. I’m talking about being able to sit up on your own. That far in on my pregnancy, I needed help.” She chuffed and Mads rolled his eyes.
“It’s by sheer luck, I assure you.” He snatched the envelope and opened the letter.
As expected, he was half mage—he’d known that much.
Though, the mix of covens he hailed from was interesting, all German, Nordic, and Irish.
Certified mutt mage. But the shifter half?
Bear. Polar, two known sloths in Alaska, a few cousins matched with him, and a father listed as identified, pending returned contact.
“Well, look at that! Polar bear.” She beamed and frowned at the same spot Mads had noticed. “Oh.”
“It’s okay. Dr. Vans said this was common, that it may take a while for him to reach back out if he decides to.” Still, it stung a little. Spring had spread into summer, so he couldn’t blame hibernation—if bears actually did that sort of thing. Shifter bears. He wondered.
Mads had been conceived in the fall, so maybe he hadn’t known? Equally likely, he bailed.
As he stuffed everything into an envelope, a yellow sticky note fell to the bedspread, a phone number written on it with a name—Dave. “What’s this?”
Helena shrugged as she tidied up the room and fluffed Mads’s pillows. “Ask the doctor? Maybe that’s your father?”
Mads texted the doctor instead. Glory be, texting. Calling people always felt entirely too invasive. Vans had embraced the level of disconnect with people as well. Who TF is Dave?
You’re welcome. It’s your beary own father. He ended up contacting me last night, so I tucked that in. It’s his newly assumed name. I think he’s gone by Victor as well. He’d like to talk to you. Dr. Vans could have at least added more information or context.
What’s he like? Mads couldn’t think of a thing else to ask.
A bear. Moody, few words, surprised he had a kid.
I don’t think you’re going to get snuggles and hugs and missing birthday cards, but I do think it’ll be some closure.
Dr. Vans had a way with words, so Mads rose and put on a shirt before stepping out onto the second-floor balcony and dialing the included number.
On the third ring, a gruff voice rumbled on the other end. “Hello?”
“Hello. I’m looking for Victor Ciel.” Mads didn’t have a last name, so that was all he had to go on.
“Who’s asking?”
Charming. Mads sighed heavily. “Mads Penumbra of Blue Dawn.”
Silence. It stretched on, the pause as pregnant as he was. Hell, he could have had a heat and gotten pregnant all over again in the time it took the male on the other end to speak.
“Mads?” Just a question. The bear knew his name before the call, presumably.
“Yes. Rory De’Creux’s son.” Mads had never identified as Rory’s child. Always Mads of Blue Dawn. The De’Creux never accepted him. Blue Dawn only took Rory in because omegas meant sex and as a child, Mads might grow up to be cute and be good variety for the coven.
Mads expected to be hung up on or snapped at, but not sighed at. A long breath hissed free of him. “Rory said he wasn’t pregnant… I’m sorry. Wish I could say something better than that.”
“Rory used to say a lot of things that weren’t true. No hard feelings, I guess.” Mads didn’t know if he believed the male.
“So. Where from here? It’s been so long, so I don’t know what all to say. I wasn’t with Rory all that long before he kicked me out, sent me packing.” There was a raspy noise on the other end of the phone, as if he were rubbing his stubble.
“Well, Rory drank himself to death when I was a teenager. I’m now mated to the coven head of the Penumbra. Marquis.” Mads glanced down to stare at his feet but only saw belly.
“Shame. Any children?” A soft sort of question.
“I have a son. He turned eighty-one here recently. And I’m due any day now with my second.”
“That’s quite the gap. I never had kids. Sort of hard to have one when you’re in my spot.” Victor cleared his throat. “Aside from you, I guess. My mate’s another alpha.”
“Oh.” Mads almost apologized, but being mated was good. It didn’t have to be for children. “And yeah, it’s a gap…”
Mads explained in the least traumatic way about his misadventure under Baron’s hand.
Victor didn’t like to hear it, but was happy that Baron was dead.
Apparently, they’d lost some of their sloth to wish.
And since their sloth was small to begin with, it was a hard blow, especially with them splitting up to merge with the last polar bear sloth.
And two mated alphas weren’t very smiled upon if they weren’t spreading their seed among the females.
“Sailor would never be that way.” Mads said it before he could stop himself, and he found himself offering a place among the mixed coven that they had allocated on the lands and buildings of the Willow coven.
Leon had agreed only if he could set fire to the covenmaster’s former residence himself. And they’d allowed it.
“I suppose I should look into it. I’d imagine Rexford isn’t much in the way of looking for a grandpa, but I could try with the little ones.
I don’t know what’s left to give you, Mads, but if it’s any consolation, I’ll do right by you however I can.
” Victor’s breath settled over the phone.
“I don’t think even if I’d have stuck around, I’d have been a good father.
It took a while for me to get my shit together. ”
“Me, too.” Mads rubbed over the surface of his belly. “But things get better every day. And I guess there’s plenty of time to be a grandpa and great-grandpa.”
It seemed to mollify the bear, and they ended the call with pleasantries and promises to check in.
When he turned around, Helena stood in the doorway, a half smile on her face, sliding away into pity. “It went well?”
Mads shrugged. “Only two ways it could have gone. Bad or worse. There’s no good that could come from not being there for your kid growing up. Like father, like son.”
“Come in. Let’s get you something to eat.
Marquis will murder me if I don’t make sure you’re fed.
He’s absolutely in a tizzy because he couldn’t bring you with him.
” She gave him a maternal gesture, shuffling him out.
She was maybe ten years his senior, but so much of Mads’s life was missing.
He didn’t feel much older than the thirty-one he was when he’d had Rexford.
By mage standards, he wasn’t even pressured to begin dating back then, just immature and sewing his wild oats.
Marquis had been the only male he’d encountered of the omega-interested persuasion that didn’t seek him out with shit intentions.
Mads had to press the issue to get what he wanted.
But at the end of everything? Life was perfect. It’d be even more perfect if Marquis was home.
For the time, though? He was protected. The only people he had to fear were long gone, and one of his coven subordinates had made lasagna.