Chapter 18 Theo
THEO
It was a weird thing, coming so hard you almost blacked out. Apparently, that was actually a thing, not just a line in a romance book. But as the haze of pleasure began to recede, clarity returned with a vengeance, bringing the cold, hard edges of reality with it.
Heat still surrounded me—Peyton’s heavy arm draped over my waist, Dalton’s steady breathing against my neck—but the cozy, safe bubble I thought we were in had popped.
Peyton’s knot had eased, and he had slipped out of me moments ago. But something was wrong. The air in the room had shifted. It wasn’t the contented silence of afterglow; it was the tense silence of a bomb squad staring at a red wire.
“Crap,” Peyton whispered. One word. Heavy as lead.
I pushed myself up on my elbows, wincing at the soreness in my muscles. “What? What is it?”
Peyton was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at the condom wrapper he’d discarded earlier, then back at his own lap. He looked pale.
“Look,” he said, his voice flat.
I followed his gaze. The condom he’d just removed was… compromised. Shredded was maybe too strong a word, but there was a distinct tear near the tip. And more importantly, there was fluid leaking onto the sheets where he’d been lying after pulling out.
It wasn’t until I felt liquid oozing out of me that it truly dawned on me what had happened.
“Did it break?” My voice sounded small, pathetic.
“Yeah,” Peyton ran a hand through his hair, gripping the strands tight. “It broke. I felt it go right at the end, but I couldn’t stop. The knot…” He trailed off, looking at Dalton, then at me.
Terror, cold and sharp, pierced through the lingering heat haze. I stared at the mess on the sheets—my mess, his mess, our mess.
Pregnancy wasn’t just a possibility; with a knot involved during a heat, it was practically a guarantee.
I scrambled back against the headboard, pulling the sheet up to my chin. “I didn’t… I mean, I’m on… wait, I’m not on anything.” I was babbling. “I didn’t plan this. You have to believe me. I didn’t try to trap you.”
The fear that they would think I was one of those omegas—the ones who poked holes in condoms to secure a mate—was overwhelming. I barely knew them. They barely knew me. And now I’d potentially shackled them to me with a baby they didn’t want.
“Stop,” Peyton said, but it wasn’t the gentle command from before. It was sharp. He stood up, pacing the small length of the room. “Theo, stop. No one thinks you did this.”
“But it happened! And you… your family. Your father.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. I remembered Dalton’s cryptic warnings about the Claybournes. “If I get pregnant… if there’s a baby… will he come for it?”
Peyton stopped pacing. His back was to me, the muscles in his shoulders bunched tight. “He won’t touch you. Or any child of mine.”
“But he’ll try,” Dalton said quietly. He hadn’t moved from the bed.
He was sitting cross-legged, watching Peyton with a look of resignation that broke my heart.
“You know he will, Peyton. An heir? A Claybourne heir born to a stray omega and raised in a throuple? He’ll burn Sugar Beach to the ground. ”
“Then let him try,” Peyton growled, turning around. His eyes were wild, flashing with gold. But I saw the fear there, too. Terror gripped him. Not of the baby, maybe, but of the war this accident had just declared.
“This isn’t how we wanted to start this,” Dalton said, his voice level, trying to be the calm in the storm. He reached out, his hand hovering over my knee before settling there. “We talked about taking it slow. About building a foundation.”
“I ruined it,” I whispered.
“No,” Dalton squeezed my knee. “Biology ruined it. Fate ruined it. But we’re here now.”
“Are we?” I looked between them. “Because you both look terrified.”
“I’m not terrified of the baby,” Peyton said.
He walked back to the bed, sitting down heavily.
“I’m terrified of what I’m going to have to do to keep you safe.
Because Dalton is right. My father… he perceives everything as property.
And if you’re carrying his grandchild, he’ll think you belong to him. ”
A chill went through me that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
“You belong to us,” Peyton said, fierce and possessive. “And we belong to you. That hasn’t changed. If anything… this seals it.”
“Does it?” Dalton asked, his voice barely audible. “Or does it just make me the odd man out? The one who can’t contribute? The one who’s just… there.”
“Dalton,” Peyton warned.
“It’s the truth, Peyton. If he’s pregnant, blood bonds you two now. I’m just the beta boyfriend.”
“Don’t,” I pleaded, reaching for Dalton. “Don’t say that. You were the one holding me together. You’re the only reason I didn’t fall apart an hour ago.”
Dalton offered me a weak smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll deal with it. We’ll figure it out. But we can’t pretend this is just a happy little accident. This… this changes everything.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. The joy, the discovery, the newness of our connection—it was all tainted now by fear and uncertainty.
But my body, traitor that it was, didn’t care about politics or family feuds. The heat flared again, a desperate spike of need demanding comfort. I didn’t want sex for pleasure anymore. I wanted it for oblivion. I wanted to drown out the fear in Dalton’s eyes and the rage in Peyton’s.
“Make me forget,” I whispered, crawling across the bed towards Peyton. “Please. Just… make me stop thinking.”
Peyton looked at me, seeing the desperation. He didn’t smile. He didn’t offer sweet words. He just pulled me in, his grip bruising.
“Yeah,” he rasped. “Let’s forget.”
There was no romance in it this time. It was frantic, hard, and desperate. We fucked like we were running out of time. Like the world was ending outside my bedroom door. And maybe, for us, it was.