2. Viktor
2
VIKTOR
M y instincts went haywire with a sobbing Omega in my arms.
All the hidden, primal parts inside me fought to break free and tear apart whatever or whoever had caused him such distress.
I had already been struggling before he’d even knocked on my door, the scent of ripe, pregnant Omega drawing me to the entrance of my apartment every time he went by.
I’d tried to catch even a hint of Alpha, either mixed with the Omega’s scent from bonding or from helping to carry their belongings to their new place.
If I had, I would have been able to settle down and actually eat my dinner…
probably.
There had been nothing.
Each time he’d gone past my door, I’d been drawn closer and closer—until my face had been smashed against the jamb, trying to suck as much of him into my lungs as I could.
I’d never reacted to an Omega like that.
Sure, I’d been attracted—maybe even slightly distracted—by a particular scent, but never anything like this, where it called to every atom in my being like a siren.
And then he’d knocked, and things had only gotten stranger.
I held on to the Omega until his tears started to slow and he began to hiccup.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice stuffy.
I smiled down at the top of his curly head.
Fuck, he was short, and sweet, and it was obvious he’d been trying to hold himself together all on his own for far too long.
“You don’t need to apologize.”
He sort of shrugged against me, and I thought he would pull away, but instead, he sighed heavily.
“Maybe, but just because you’re an Alpha doesn’t mean it’s your job to take care of me.”
His voice was flat when he said that, like he was repeating something he’d heard or been told too many times in his life.
Or maybe he was trying to convince himself more than me.
I supposed it was true.
I didn’t generally walk around pampering all the single Omegas I ran across in my everyday life.
I’d never have time to get anything else done.
But it didn’t feel right to pull away.
Not with this Omega.
He felt right in my arms, his huge pregnant belly pressing against me, stirring something deep in my brain.
A quiet longing I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time.
I’d given up on the idea of having an Omega and children of my own.
Being the biggest and scariest-looking Alpha in most rooms meant I was never the one picked by sweet, delicate Omegas.
I’d rarely gone on more than one date with the few who had agreed when I approached them.
And the couple of times my mom had convinced me to let her set me up with someone, it had gone about as well as I’d imagined it would.
The only time I’d ever gotten an Omega to admit why they’d changed their mind after meeting me in person, they’d told me it was because I looked like I couldn’t be gentle.
I’d stopped looking after that.
I couldn’t change how rough my features were or shrink my size, and I didn’t want to continue terrifying unsuspecting Omegas.
I mostly kept to myself nowadays, other than when my nosy family butted in.
But now, I had a trembling, pregnant Omega in my arms who didn’t seem to have an Alpha of his own—despite how near he had to be to giving birth.
My size and appearance hadn’t scared him off so far, and I hoped my lack of experience handling upset Omegas didn’t run him off.
“Can you tell me what happened?” I asked, smoothing my hands up and down his back, trying to offer as much comfort as I possibly could.
“Been a hard day,” he said, then laughed without any humor.
“Well, more like a rough couple of months.”
“I can go and get a spoon from my apartment,” I offered.
I knew the lost silverware was probably the least of his problems, but it was the quickest one I could solve.
He huffed out a real laugh, then leaned back so he could look up at me.
“I’d appreciate that,” he said.
His smile was a little wobbly, but it was there.
I’d take it.
I kept my eyes on him as I backed out of the apartment, and once in the hallway, I sprinted to my place, nearly ripping the silverware drawer completely out in my rush.
I grabbed one spoon—then a bigger one—and then a fork.
I didn’t want to assume what the Omega would like, and the last thing I wanted was another breakdown because he’d have preferred something else.
I grabbed a roll of paper towel and hustled back.
Pausing in his doorway, my feet froze at the sight of the Omega clutching the bowl of stew.
He was perched precariously on the edge of one of his boxes, eyes closed and inhaling deeply.
Savoring the smell of food I had made.
Then his light brown eyes popped open, and his blotchy cheeks flushed at getting caught.
I slowly approached, utensils outstretched.
He glanced from my face to the offering and back again, a smile coming a little easier, before he snagged the largest spoon and dug right in.
I tried not to stare as the Omega ate the food that I had prepared.
I might not have made it with him in mind, but the fact that it was something I had done with my own hands soothed my own agitation and filled me with pride.
I still wasn’t okay with how upset he’d been, but providing nourishment to a pregnant Omega— this pregnant Omega—calmed my instincts.
I glanced around the empty apartment in an attempt not to hyperfixate on the way he licked the spoon, but there really wasn’t much to see.
Just the few boxes he’d brought up during his trips back and forth to his car.
I couldn’t help but frown at them, words spilling out before I could stop them.
“How far along are you?”
He froze, the spoon halfway to his mouth, and then lowered it back into the bowl.
My stomach turned.
I couldn’t have just kept my fucking mouth shut?
“Thirty-five weeks,” he said softly.
I shouldn’t have been surprised.
He looked like he was about ready to burst—his tiny frame consumed by his large stomach—but I still blanched and shook my head.
“You shouldn’t be going up and down those stairs so many times in your condition.”
Instead of agreeing with me, the Omega lifted his chin, jaw set.
“Unless I want to sleep in my car, I’m going to have to.”
I didn’t like that answer.
My frown deepened despite my intention of projecting gentle calmness, and I knew any goodwill I’d earned by providing food would soon be washed away.
That this Omega would start to see me as all the others had: too big, too scary-looking, too mean and rough.
But I couldn’t seem to help myself.
“Is that why you were crying? You don’t have anyone to help you move?”
It was a shit thing to say, and I could’ve phrased it a lot nicer.
The Omega’s cheeks flushed red again, and he lowered the bowl to rest on his belly.
“No, that’s not why I was crying. I was crying because the person I should have been able to depend on turned out to be a really shitty person. And so now I’m about to do something very scary all on my own, and not only do I not have ready access to my silverware, but I?—”
He stopped, glancing away.
I stepped forward, closing the distance between us.
“What?” I asked softly, crouching to meet his eyes.
“I’m sorry I was rude, but you can tell me.”
He glanced at me with his face still mostly turned away, looking even more vulnerable than he had when he’d been sobbing.
“I don’t need an Alpha,” he whispered.
The words hit me hard.
I nearly tumbled back on my ass, the rejection cutting so deep it was almost comical.
I’d known this man for all of twenty minutes, and yet it felt like he was carving my heart out with a rusty spoon.
Clearing my throat, I scratched at the back of my head and rising to my feet.
“Right. Of course. I’ll get out of your hair, then?—”
“Wait,” the Omega said.
He tried to push himself up, nearly toppling over when the top of the box caved in beneath his hand.
I jolted forward, grabbing at him.
The beef stew—what remained of it—slopped over the edge of the bowl, landing on his belly and staining his soft gray shirt.
“Easy.” Hands on his shoulders, I steadied him.
He stared up at me, light brown eyes huge in his oval face.
A moment of awareness passed over us, and my blood began to heat, but his next words were like a splash of water in the face.
“I promised myself that I didn’t need an Alpha after the last one was such a disappointment.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, trying not to project my hurt feelings all over the room.
Maybe whatever I was experiencing every time I looked at, scented, or touched him was completely one-sided.
Maybe he really had clung to me as he cried simply because I was there .
Maybe?—
“But… I could probably use some help.”
The words came out raspy, like he had to force them past his lips, and I realized how difficult it really was for him to admit that.
I had no idea how long he’d been on his own or when his good-for-nothing Alpha had fucked off.
Who knew how long before that asshole he’d been struggling.
Standing before me, he was shrouded in pain and worry.
The kind that went way past the surface and into your soul, taking root if you let it.
If I could, I’d stop it from growing into something bigger.
Even if he never saw me as anything other than his Alpha neighbor.
Because I knew he probably wasn’t even asking for help for himself.
The hand that wasn’t still clutching the now empty bowl was rubbing over his belly absently.
He was doing this—asking me for help, a stranger, an Alpha, someone nearly three times his size—because he was worried about his baby.
And for whatever reason, that made me start to fall right then and there.
I’d show him that not all Alphas were disappointments, so when he was ready, he’d hopefully see me as more than a broad shoulder to cry on.
He’d see I was trustworthy.
Kind.
Patient.
And ready and willing to make him mine.