Chapter 22
Desmond
Hudson is…bright in my chest. I can feel him through the bond Mason opened. He’s bright and warm and sunny.
And sad.
I don’t blame him. He made us promise not to bite him and our own pack lead had been the one to bond him to Pack Anders.
And yet, I kind of like the way he feels vibrating down that invisible thread. It’s odd, but it feels as though this piece had been missing and his presence completes the puzzle in my heart. Maybe even my soul.
We’d offered him a large amount of money to carry our child and told him he was free to do as he pleased after. We promised him we expected nothing more from him. Especially knowing he wasn’t into joining a pack.
Someone who looks like Hudson, someone so sweet and understanding and kind, could have a million alphas begging to court him.
Maybe I don’t truly know him. But how could I not think of him as a selfless person when he’s willing to sacrifice up to a year of his life simply to make our dream come true?
He’s still naked, but I have to remove my clothes and urge him into the shower.
The problem is the way he’s gripping the back of my shirt as though terrified I’ll disappear.
Pulling back enough to look into his face, I give him a soft smile and press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Let me strip and we’ll get you cleaned up.”
I’ve already showered, but Hudson appears shell-shocked. He sounded angry at first. I heard his yell through the house. But now, there’s sadness rippling down the bond and my instincts demand I fix it.
He lets me pull away, but he keeps touching me, keeping a hand on my arm, moving it to my fingers, even touching my thigh at one point until I’m fully naked and can guide him into the shower.
When I first entered the bathroom, all I could detect was a bitter edge to his scent along with a whole lot of Mason’s pheromones. As I held him, I smelled shampoo and body wash.
He’d clearly showered off last night’s chaos, but Mason had been relentless.
My hands thread through his hair and guide his head under the spray. “Is the temperature okay?” I ask as the water turns his hair darker.
“Yeah,” he says before closing his eyes.
That sadness is still in the bond, and I’m not sure how to make it go away. As much as I want to give him everything he wants, I won’t risk his health or our child’s if he’s pregnant.
The moment the doctor gives the all-clear, I’ll personally drive him to the clinic and hold his hand through the procedure.
Even if my instincts tell me it’ll be agonizing the moment the link to Hudson is severed.
My mates and I decided from the beginning that anyone who agreed would be free to walk away at the end. No strings. No expectations.
I’m not sure whether it’s because we’re committed to each other, whether we feel as though our pack is complete – with the exception of not having children – or whether we haven’t met another person who feels as though their presence in our lives feels as natural as Hudson does.
I don’t want to want him.
I don’t want to beg him to keep the bond intact.
And I really don’t want to cause my mates any pain by telling them exactly how I feel.
When another wave of sorrow flows from Hudson, I release a purr as I work the shampoo into his hair.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I’m sorry that happened. As soon as it’s safe, we’ll…do whatever you want.”
I just can’t seem to force my lips to form the words dissolve the bond out loud.
Another whimper lifts onto the air along with a burned, bitter change to his scent.
What is making him sad? I thought assuring him we’ll make sure he’s not unwillingly permanently tied to the pack would make him happy. I thought my purrs would comfort his omega impulses.
But there is so much sorrow, so much heartache flowing from him and I’m not sure how to fix it.
All I can do is be here for him until we have to return to the office, hold him, comfort him, purr for him until his scent returns to that beautiful tonka bean and sweet plum and the warm, sunny sensation of his presence in the bond reappears.
When he’s clean, dry, and his hair is brushed smooth, I can’t help myself – I dress Hudson with the tenderness I’d give my omega, then lift him into my arms. He loops his legs around my waist and his arms around my neck, holding on as I ease down onto the couch in his quarters.
I’ve tried to coach him into joining Mason and Alex downstairs for breakfast, but every time I mention it, he whimpers, and his pretty honey-colored eyes fill with tears.
I suppose all these conflicting emotions could be due to his cycle ending. His hormones have ravaged him for days. It was a few shorter than he’d warned us about.
My hope is that it’s a sign that it worked, that we were able to impregnate him the first cycle.
Or at least I thought it was my only hope.
What’s getting to me is when he gets pregnant, after he gives birth, he could simply walk away from us and never look back.
We gave him the same choice we gave everyone else – he can choose to be in the child’s life in whatever capacity he chooses, or he can return to his life as it was before he knew we existed.
I don’t want him to leave.
I love Alex. I love Mason. They are my mates.
But if my heart is big enough to love children, why couldn’t it be big enough to love this omega?
I haven’t known him long enough to claim to love him. Falling for someone due to biology is not the same as the deep feelings I carry for my mates.
A growl pushes past the purr at the thought of Mason’s teeth breaking Hudson’s skin. We’d done what we could to stop it. Even when Hudson was begging for a bite, I’d tried to assert at least a touch of my dominance, something I never do.
It hadn’t worked. When Alex and I struggled to pull him away from Hudson, it was too late.
And then he’d tried to attack us any time we got within five feet of the omega.
“When can we get the blood test?” Hudson asks so softly I almost miss it.
“I’m not sure. I’ll see if Alex asked the doctor.”
“I’m sorry. I tried to warn you guys. I didn’t mean to force myself into your pack. As soon as the doctor says it’s okay, I’ll go have it dissolved.”
My brows furrow and I pull back so I can look into his face.
“I can feel you through the bond. You’re upset. And you’re growling now. I promise I’m not trying to create a wedge between you.”
Does he think I’m growling at him? He thinks he’s the one who upset me?
“There’s no rush, omega,” I say, raising a hand from where I’d been gently stroking his back to push his shoulder-length hair from his face and trail the backs of my fingers down his soft skin.
“And you’re not creating a wedge. I promise. I’m not upset with you at all. I’m upset that Mason forced this on you when you couldn’t fully give consent.”
“I don’t think he could truly give consent, either,” he says with a soft, sad smile.
“No one is angry with you. I promise. I’ll see if Alex can find out when the proper hormones will appear in your system if you’re pregnant so we don’t have to wait.
But regardless, would you mind keeping the mark?
” His brows furrow slightly, causing the tiniest crease between them.
“It would be nice to be able to feel you in the bond while we’re apart.
And so I can anticipate if you need something, even if it’s just a snuggle from one of us, without you having to ask,” I say, rambling the last part quickly when his frown deepens.
I really don’t want him to think I’m trying to trap him.
And I really, really don’t want to admit, even to myself, how much I like feeling him in the bond.