4. Viktor
4
VIKTOR
I frowned as I opened Basil’s front door and closed it carefully behind me, keeping the pizza box balanced in my free hand.
Every day for the last week, I had told him he needed to keep his door locked, and every day, he smiled and said he only unlocked it after I texted to say I was on my way.
But I still didn’t like it.
If I had felt more sure about our relationship and where we were at, I would’ve pushed the issue.
But I knew he was still in a fragile state—at least emotionally.
He was okay a lot of the time, but every once in a while, I’d catch him crying softly as he folded onesies or washed dishes.
After some gentle prying, he had shared a little about growing up in the foster system and what had happened between him and the Alpha who’d impregnated him.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I ever saw that man.
He’d hurt my sweet Omega, but without him fucking off to wherever, I wouldn’t have him and the soon-to-be baby in my life.
Basil always just wiped his cheeks and smiled, saying he was grateful he hadn’t wasted more time on him, and the Alpha wasn’t interested at all in being a parent to the life growing inside him.
Still, just to be sure, I was waiting on a call back from a lawyer to make sure that piece of shit wouldn’t have any rights if he came calling.
As soon as I thought Basil could handle the conversation, I’d let him know we would be making things official.
First with our mating, and then with my adoption of Little Bean.
I wasn’t taking any chances of that asshole worming his way back into Basil’s life once he realized what he’d missed out on.
Basil and the baby were mine.
But I knew it was too soon to bring those things up.
It didn’t matter that I knew, down into my bones, that Basil was the one for me.
I wanted him to have time to come around to the idea on his own, without any pressure.
He’d spent the whole week nesting, every waking moment that he wasn’t working was seemingly devoted to organizing and reorganizing everything in the nursery, washing all the clothes—twice—and meal prepping for after the birth.
I’d told him several times he didn’t need to worry about food, that I’d take care of him while he healed and rested, but he’d just smile at me and keep doing what he was doing.
I tried not to get in the way and offered whatever support I could, my heart aching at the idea that this was the first time he’d had a chance to truly settle in and get excited about preparing for the upcoming birth.
Before moving into the apartment, he’d been staying in the place he and his ex had briefly lived in together, but he’d admitted to me that he’d never felt comfortable there.
The landlord had made it clear he didn’t want a crying baby in the building, so he probably shouldn’t have been surprised when the rent had gone up.
My poor Omega had had a rough time, but I was going to make sure that never happened again.
I set the pizza box on the coffee table between the couch my mom and siblings had brought—it’d come from one of the twins’ places, I was pretty sure—and the tiny television Basil had brought with him.
Even though my mom had also gotten a bistro-style table and chairs to eat at in the tiny kitchen, my Omega preferred eating on the couch with some mindless TV show playing in the background while I rubbed his swollen feet and ankles.
It was one of my favorite parts of the day.
“Viktor, is that you?” Basil called from the nursery.
“The fact you don’t know for sure is reason enough to keep it locked until I actually get here,” I replied, making my way toward the back of the apartment.
Basil just laughed, the sound sweet and lighthearted, like I was being completely ridiculous with my worrying.
“I’m serious. Who knows what kind of creeps live in this building?”
I stopped in the doorway to the nursery, my chest warming at the sight before me.
Basil was sitting on the floor next to the crib, a stack of folded sheets, burp clothes, and bibs on one side and a small pile on the other.
He had a burp cloth with ducklings on it in his hands and a huge smile on his face as he glanced up at me.
“You mean like Alphas watching through their peepholes as pregnant Omegas walk past?” he teased.
My face heated at his gentle jab, and I crossed my arms over my chest.
“That was different.”
Basil lifted an eyebrow, a silent challenge to explain exactly how it was different.
I rolled my eyes and stepped farther into the room, noticing he’d hung a few decorations on the wall while I’d been at work.
“Fine. It wasn’t different. But it also proves my point,” I grumbled.
“Did you get my text?” Basil asked, setting aside the folded cloth and raising his arms.
I closed the distance between us and clasped his hands, easily lifting him to his feet.
He stepped in close and wrapped me in a quick hug, nuzzling his face against my chest.
He was so damn sweet it was all I could do to keep my hands to myself most days.
I’d never push for more before he was ready, but fuck, my hand and I got well acquainted every night in my Omega-less bedroom.
“You mean your text that said, ‘Feed me, please’?”
Basil snorted and then leaned back, tipping his chin up to meet my eyes.
“Yes, that one. I’m starving.”
The humor bled out of me, and I frowned.
“Why are you starving? Do you need groceries?” I started to pull away, ready to check the fridge and see if I’d somehow missed that the shelves were empty, but Basil held on to me.
“I can go grocery shopping another day. I just meant I accidentally skipped lunch.”
My frown deepened.
I didn’t like the sound of that, but I wasn’t sure if I had the right to say anything.
He worked from home doing something involving doctors’ dictations, so he was by himself a lot of the time.
It made me want to put up cameras in the apartment so I could keep an eye on him and send him reminders when I noticed he was moving around too much or had forgotten to eat.
I had a feeling my Omega wouldn’t agree to that even after we were mated.
“You don’t need to worry about going grocery shopping at all in your condition,” I grumbled at him, then snagged one of his hands and led him out to the living room.
“Just make a list of whatever you want, and I’ll get it for you.”
Basil looked at me, a strange expression on his face, as he settled on his side of the couch, and I went to get plates and napkins from the kitchen.
I was just rounding the other end of the couch, prepared to spend the next hour pampering my sweet Omega, when Basil asked, “Are you attracted to me?”
I paused, my ass half a foot off the cushion, and stared at him in utter confusion.
I had no idea where that question had come from.
What sort of nonsense was spinning around in his head?
I needed to nip it in the bud.
“Of course I am. Why would you ask that?” I slowly lowered myself the rest of the way, setting aside the plates so I could focus on the conversation, even though my desire to feed him nearly overruled my brain.
“Well,” Basil said, rubbing his hands over his belly like he did whenever he was nervous, “it’s been a week, and other than when you kissed me that first day, it hasn’t really seemed like you were interested in more than that.”
I stared at him for a long moment, my mind spinning with all of the many, many things I’d fantasized about doing to and with my Omega over the last week, and then started to rise before sitting back down and shaking my head.
“No. Food first.”
“What?” Basil asked, his brow knitting in confusion.
“Food first,” I repeated, throwing open the pizza box and putting two slices on a plate before shoving it at him.
“You need to eat first.”
“Okay…” Basil said slowly, accepting it.
“And then we’ll talk?”
I shook my head and grabbed a slice for myself, not even bothering with the other plate.
“No, and then I’m going to show you just how attracted to you I am.”
Basil sucked in a breath, eyes widening, but he didn’t move.
I nodded at the food, and he picked up one of his pieces and got to work.
He tried to say he was full after those first two, but I knew my Omega, and I gave him another one, which he scarfed down grudgingly.
Once his plate was clean again, he practically tossed it onto the coffee table and climbed to his feet as fast as he could in his enormous state.
I grinned at him, completely and utterly infatuated with this man.
“I’m ready,” he said, already a bit breathless—though I wasn’t sure if that was from anticipation or the effort it took for him to leverage himself off the couch these days.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness.
Here I’d spent the last week trying to be respectful of him, his past, and the baby growing inside him that wasn’t biologically mine, and he’d been worrying about whether I wanted him or not.
As if I could ever not want him.
Just like my mom had promised me when I was a kid, I’d known this Omega was mine the moment I’d scented him.
She’d told me that was how it had been when she’d met my dad.
I hadn’t believed it as I’d gotten older and struggled to make real, lasting connections with potential Omegas, but now I knew she hadn’t been exaggerating at all.
If anything, she’d undersold the driving need inside me to claim my Omega.