Chapter 38
Alex
It’s been a week since Hudson came to the house to gather his belongings while we were at work. And in that week, his scent has begun to fade.
It’s unsettling my alpha instincts.
Mason can pretend all he wants, but he’s feeling the loss of the omega, too.
Not just the omega. Our fucking omega. He’s ours. Mine.
I’ve texted him a few times every day and he always responds, but the messages are so…impersonal. Cold. Even when I try to flirt with him, his replies are almost professional and businesslike.
Thing is, it’s not like we can simply show up at his house every day. We still have jobs, still have a firm to run, still have a stack of cases we need to be working on. Just like when he was at the pack house, we’re still returning home after he would be asleep.
Doesn’t mean I haven’t driven past his apartment building occasionally on our way home from work, looking up to see if there happen to be any lights shining through the windows of his apartment facing the street.
Much to Mason’s dismay, of course.
Asshole can lecture me all he wants. He can’t hide how he feels. He’s even attempted to slam the bond shut, but I plow right through that invisible barrier. I mean, yeah, I usually use my mouth to do the job, but it still works.
Des is the last one to have seen him face to face. If my sweet mate couldn’t talk Hudson into returning home, I’m not sure there’s a damn thing I can do. Flirting and seduction only go so far.
I can’t blame him, though. We promised him the world and gave him the bare minimum. Not by choice, of course. But I’m sure he would appreciate more than twenty-four/seven access to our money and a huge empty house.
“We should give Amy some time off,” I say as I pull my BMW X5 into the garage. Both Des and I made sure we purchased vehicles for our growing family, even buying newer models every few years.
Maybe all that wishful thinking is what put Hudson in our sights.
Nah. He wasn’t the first omega we approached when they’d sought an alpha or pack to help them through their cycle.
We’d even approached a few omega resource centers in the state and put our names and scents on file, but once an omega read those lines about not seeking a permanent member but simply a surrogate…
And then came Hudson.
Yeah, we offered the same thing we’ve offered every other omega.
I had no idea I would end up falling for him. And that is exactly what’s happening. I’m falling hard for the beautiful omega.
I’m pretty sure Des is past the falling stage and is already head over heels.
And Mason can fuck off with the apathetic act; my pack lead and one of the loves of my life is hurting as much as me and Desmond over the loss of Hudson in our home.
There’s so little of that warm sweetness left in the house. Even the nest barely holds any remaining hints of his signature. Sure, it’s enough any omega who might enter in the future would become unsettled, but not nearly enough to keep my fucking instincts settled.
“Why would we give Amy time off?” Mason says.
“Maybe she can go to Hudson’s. Check in on him. Spend some time with him…talk him into coming home.”
“He is home,” Mason argues, his eyes on his phone as he no doubt reads an email or text from either a junior partner or yet another client. The fucking work is never ending.
“He’s going to need our pheromones,” I say as I climb from behind the wheel and walk through the garage.
“Then he’ll call, and we’ll spend some time at his apartment,” Mason says as he follows me into the house.
“Right. I’m sure he’ll send out an SOS for some alpha pheromones. Oh, and no doubt we’ll be available at the drop of a hat. I mean, look at how much free time we have now,” I deadpan.
Anger is building in my system, turning my stomach, and sending adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Over-the-top reaction to such a simple statement from my mate, but my instincts are all over the fucking place. Whether Mason wants to admit it or not, Hudson is ours. And fuck him if he wants to dissolve his bond – I’m keeping mine.
I just have to figure out how the hell to convince Hudson to stay with us even after the child is born.
You’re selfish as fuck.
I sigh at my own inner chastising. Because my subconscious is right.
Expecting him to be here, raising our child and waiting for any spare moment we might be able to give him is selfish.
He had a life before us and we expect him to simply uproot everything to, what, hold the furniture down all day, every day?
Doesn’t matter how many visits he gets from Ella; she’s a fellow omega. It’s even more imperative now that he’s pregnant that he receive an alpha’s pheromones.
I’m half tempted to pack a bag and invite myself to stay at his house until either I convince him he belongs with us – Mason’s opinion be damned – or until the baby’s born.
Then what? No way could I walk away from either of them, even if Hudson decides he’s not parent material. He’s still mine. We’ll raise our son or daughter and hire a nanny for when we’re not home.
Or hell, I’m sure any member of my or Des’s family would be overjoyed at the prospect of babysitting our first child.
Sorrow squeezes my heart. I’m making plans for a future that is so fucking unsure. A future with an omega who chose to return to his own apartment rather than sleep beside us in the pack bed.
Not that I can blame him.
I’m also thinking about hiring nannies to raise our child since we work so much. Just like with Hudson, we’ll barely have any time for our own kid.
What the hell were we thinking? Parenthood sounds great in theory, but it’s a completely different animal when reality hits.
Nothing we can do about that now. Our child will be here in nine months. Or is it ten? I swear I read somewhere the weekly countdown is closer to ten months.
However long it is, we’ll have a little baby girl or boy in our lives who will rely on us for its survival. More than simply its survival – I plan on doting on my child the same way my parents did with all of us.
Poor Mason is the only one of the three of us who didn’t have a dream upbringing. Not that his was technically a nightmare, but he couldn’t say he has a clue how having loving, affectionate parents feels.
What will our child say about us in the future? Yeah, they were great, but they were never home. Good thing I had a nanny.
A heavy sigh leaves my chest as I make my way through the house and to my bedroom. Normally, I would shower off the day, ensure there are no lingering scents of omegas or betas from the office.
What’s the point? Hudson isn’t here. His omega instincts won’t be rattled. And my mates were around the same people as me. There will be no possessive urges, no questions or accusations.
The only instincts that will be off will be mine. Ours. Alphas without their omega.
Worse. Alphas without their pregnant omega.
You know what? Fuck this. Mason and Des can do whatever the fuck they want. I need to be around Hudson. Even if he demands I sleep on the couch, at least I’ll be under the same roof, in the same house, and I’ll know he’s safe.
I’m stripping before I’m even fully through my bedroom door, tossing my clothes on the floor as I go. I’ll pick them up later. Or Amy can deal with them. Part of the reason we pay her, after all, is to keep our house clean when we work entirely too many hours.
The water isn’t even warm when I step under it, scrubbing at my skin and hair in cold ass water before stepping out and dragging a towel over my body.
When I drag on a pair of sweats and a hoodie – without bothering with a t-shirt underneath – they stick to my still damp skin.
Don’t care. I’m on a mission, damn it.
I should probably grab a suit for the morning. But my brain has officially jumped ship and my body and heart are officially in control as I race from my room, before turning back and sliding my feet into a pair of house slippers then run back for the garage.
Yep. Sweatpants, hoodie, and house slippers. Still don’t care.
The only concern I have as I jump back into my X5 is the fact the doorman will stop me from heading upstairs. He’ll call Hudson and wake him up, ask whether I’m permitted to get into the elevator that will take me to his floor.
Do I care? Nope. Still don’t. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, as clichéd as it sounds.
My body is officially on autopilot.
Nah. My body is officially being ruled by my heart and my heart wants my omega.
Now.
In my arms.
In my bed.
In my house.
In my fucking life.
Until death do us part and all that romantic shit.