Chapter 7 #2
“No, nothing like that.”
“Good. And you’re taking your prenatal vitamins?”
“Every morning.”
“Excellent.” Dr. Westfield pulled over her rolling stool and the ultrasound machine.
“Now, before we get to the exciting part—hearing the heartbeat—I want to mention that I’ll be referring you to an obstetrician who specializes in male omega pregnancies.
Dr. Amara Hassan, downtown. She’s excellent, and this is completely routine procedure. Nothing to be concerned about.”
I felt Dominic tense beside me. “Why does he need a specialist?”
“Standard protocol,” Dr. Westfield assured him calmly.
“Male omega pregnancies involve some unique physiological considerations. Leo’s anatomy—like all male omegas—includes adaptations that allow for pregnancy and birth, essentially a form of intersex biology.
The cloaca serves multiple functions and undergoes significant changes during pregnancy and delivery.
Dr. Hassan has specialized training in managing these specific anatomical differences and ensuring optimal outcomes for both parent and baby. ”
She pulled up some diagrams on her computer screen.
There was a translucent view of a male omega’s distended abdomen with a fetus curled inside.
Beside it, was a detailed cross-section revealing a male omega’s specialized reproductive tract, every duct and channel carefully labeled in precise medical terminology.
“Dr. Hassan has extensive experience with male omega births,” Dr. Westfield said. “She’ll work closely with me to monitor Leo’s progress and ensure everything proceeds safely.”
I looked at Dominic, watching as he studied the diagrams with serious attention. When his gaze turned to me, he looked slightly rueful. “I’m realizing how little I actually know about the specifics. Alphas should be better educated about this. We just… aren’t.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Dr. Westfield said warmly, her expression approving.
“It’s something I advocate for constantly—better education for alphas about omega reproductive health.
The fact that you’re here, asking questions, wanting to understand—that’s exactly what Leo needs.
And Dr. Hassan has excellent resources for partners. She’ll walk you through everything.”
“When would he start seeing her?” Dominic asked, his hand finding mine.
“I’ll make the referral today, and they’ll call to schedule. Probably within the next week or two.” Dr. Westfield smiled reassuringly. “I think you’ll both like her. She’s very experienced, very thorough.”
I squeezed Dominic’s hand. “I actually feel better knowing there’s someone who specializes in this.”
Dominic nodded slowly, though I could feel his protective instincts churning through our bond. “Okay. As long as it’s routine.”
“Completely routine,” Dr. Westfield confirmed. “Now, let’s take a look at this baby and get that heartbeat for nervous Dad over here.”
Dominic moved closer, his grip tightening on my hand. I could feel his anticipation through our bond—sharp and electric.
“This will be cold,” Dr. Westfield warned, squirting gel on my stomach.
It was cold. I flinched slightly, and Dominic’s grip tightened.
Then Dr. Westfield placed the transducer on my belly and moved it slowly, the screen showing grainy black and white images that looked like abstract art to my untrained eye.
“There we are,” she murmured, adjusting slightly. “Perfect position. And there’s your baby.”
I looked at the screen. The baby looked more developed than in the picture Dominic had already seen—more defined features, clearer shape. I could make out the head, the curve of the spine, the tiny limbs.
“Oh my god,” Dominic breathed, his voice rough with emotion. “It’s so much bigger than in the picture.”
“Seven weeks of growth makes a difference at this stage,” Dr. Westfield said. “Measuring right on track for thirteen weeks. Good size, good position.” She pressed a button, and suddenly the room filled with sound.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.
Fast and strong and steady. Like a tiny drum. It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.
“That’s the heartbeat,” Dr. Westfield said. “One hundred and forty-eight beats per minute. Perfect range for this stage.”
I felt Dominic’s hand shake in mine. The picture was one thing—seeing our baby frozen in a moment. But this, the sound of that tiny heart beating, the proof of life happening right now…
“Everything looks exactly as it should.“ Dr. Westfield continued, still moving the transducer, taking measurements. “The placenta in good position. You’re doing everything right, Leo.”
But I was barely listening. I was watching Dominic watch our baby, watching him fall completely apart and pull himself back together in the span of seconds.
His free hand came up to cover his mouth, his eyes suspiciously bright.
The sonogram picture had moved him, but this—hearing the heartbeat, seeing the baby move in real-time—was something else entirely.
“Can we…” He cleared his throat. “Can we get updated pictures?”
“Of course.” Dr. Westfield pressed more buttons, the machine whirring. “I’ll print you several. The baby’s in a great position today—these will be clearer than last time.”
“Good,” Dominic managed, his voice thick.
The heartbeat continued—whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh—filling the room with proof of life that we’d created together.
Dr. Westfield finished taking her measurements, made a few notes in my chart, and printed the pictures.
She explained what we were seeing—the developing features, the way the baby was positioned, what to expect over the next few weeks.
The head was clearly visible now, and she pointed out the tiny arms and legs, the curve of the spine.
So much more detailed than the first sonogram.
“Any questions?” Dr. Westfield finally asked, powering down the machine and handing me paper towels to wipe off the gel.
“When can we find out the sex?” Dominic asked immediately. Then he looked at me, his forehead creasing with worry lines that betrayed his uncertainty. “I mean, if we want to know? Do we?”
A smile tugged at my lips. “Yes, I think we do.”
“Usually around eighteen to twenty-two weeks. Dr. Hassan will schedule that for you.” She made a note in my chart.
I hesitated, then felt heat creep up my neck. “Um. I have a question too.”
Dr. Westfield looked at me with professional patience. “Of course.”
“About… intimacy.” I couldn’t quite look at Dominic. “Is it still… safe? To continue… you know.”
“Sexual activity?” Dr. Westfield said matter-of-factly, and I appreciated her directness even as my face burned.
“Absolutely safe, as long as there are no complications like spotting or cramping. In fact, it’s healthy for bonded pairs to maintain physical intimacy during pregnancy. The baby is very well protected.”
Dominic’s hand tightened on mine, and I could feel interest spike through our bond.
“Any particular positions to avoid?” he asked, surprising me with his boldness.
“Anything that puts pressure on the abdomen, and Leo should avoid lying flat on his back for extended periods in the later months. But for now, at thirteen weeks, you have quite a bit of flexibility.” She smiled. “Listen to your body. If something feels uncomfortable, adjust. Communication is key.”
“Good to know,” Dominic said, his voice carefully neutral, though I could feel the heat of his gaze on me.
“Any other concerns?” Dr. Westfield asked.
I shook my head, glancing at Dominic to see if he had anymore questions. He shook his head, flashing me a warm, happy smile that revealed his sharp alpha incisors.
Dr. Westfield rose from her stool, her clipboard clutched in one hand.
“Oh, and no climbing ladders or doing anything that requires balance,” Dr. Westfield said, shooting Dominic a look. “Your center of gravity is already starting to shift, even if you can’t feel it yet.”
Dominic’s expression turned smug. “See? Doctor’s orders.”
“How did you—” I started.
“He called ahead,” Dr. Westfield said, not even trying to hide her smile. “Wanted to make sure I knew to emphasize the no-ladder rule.”
“You called my doctor?” I asked Dominic, not sure whether to be exasperated or touched.
“I’m taking no chances,” he said unapologetically. “None.”
“Smart alpha,” Dr. Westfield said approvingly. “So, you’re scheduled for your final appointment with me in four weeks. My office will coordinate with Dr. Hassan’s.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Dr. Westfield nodded and slipped out the door, the soft click of the latch echoing in the sudden quiet of the examination room.
I started to hop down off the examination table, but Dominic appeared before me, his broad frame caging me in. His hands found my waist, strong fingers crinkling the hospital gown as he lifted me with effortless care, setting me gently onto the floor.
I gazed up at him, warm affection unfurling in my chest. “Kiss me.”
His steel-gray eyes darkened at my request. Without hesitation, he bent down, his lips meeting mine in a touch so tender and innocent it made my knees weak.
When he broke away, the corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Now get dressed before I forget myself and proceed to compromise you right here.”
I snorted, feeling the heat of his body still radiating against mine. “As if you have any compunctions about compromising me.”
My alpha’s rich chuckle rumbled between us, not a hint of remorse in the sound as he gathered the sonogram printouts and held them like they were precious artifacts.
“The pup’s grown a lot.” The corners of his mouth softened as his thumb traced the tiny silhouette.
“Seven weeks makes a difference,” I said, echoing Dr. Westfield.
Dominic’s fingers interlaced with mine as we stepped out of the doctor’s office. The afternoon sun bathed us in light, but the January air bit through my clothes, making me shiver.
“You can wait inside while I get the car,” Dominic said, his brow furrowing as he noticed my reaction to the cold.
I shot him an exasperated look. “Oh no, you don’t, alpha. The car is literally right there.”
My finger jabbed toward his silver Aston Martin, gleaming in the sun barely five spaces from the entrance.
Dominic turned his head away, his jaw set in what could only be described as an alpha’s version of a pout. I pressed my lips together, fighting the smile that threatened to break across my face.
“I’m never missing another appointment,” he said, opening the passenger side door for me. His voice was fierce, final. “Never. I don’t care what’s happening, what meeting I have, what crisis Blake’s dealing with. I’ll be at every single one.”
“Okay,” I said softly.
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.” And I did. Could feel his certainty through our bond, absolute and unshakeable.
He got in and started the car, carefully placing the sonogram pictures in the center console where they wouldn’t get bent.
He turned on the heater. “Better?”
“Much,” I said, peeling off my gloves and extending my fingers toward the vent. A sigh of pleasure escaped my lips as the warmth caressed my skin.
I glanced over at Dominic, only to find his steel-gray eyes fixed on me, dark with unmistakable hunger. “So. Intimacy is safe.”
“That’s what she said.”
“Good.” His hand found my thigh, warm and possessive. “Because after hearing that heartbeat, after seeing our pup… I want to celebrate. Properly.”
“Dominic—”
“After we visit Nurse Margie,” he amended, his smile turning wicked. “I can be patient. Mostly.”
I shook my head, but I couldn’t help smiling. “Henderson’s Flower Shop first.”
“And then your chips,” he reminded me.
“And then my chips.”
His smile was pure affection. “Though after hearing that heartbeat, I’d buy you anything you wanted.”
“Dangerous promise to make to a pregnant omega.”
“Good thing I can afford it.” He pulled out of the parking lot, one hand on the wheel, the other finding mine and holding tight.
And as we drove toward Henderson’s, I thought about Thomas. Did he get to hear his baby’s heartbeat? Did he think about planning a nursery? Did he pick out names?
Someone had stolen all of that from him.
And I was going to find out who.