Chapter Eight
Pace
Istare at the flat computer monitor mounted on the wall. The image is grainy, but it’s clear enough. I watch as a mid-aged beta doctor talks to my omega. I see Jude shake his head a few times, but I can’t hear his voice through the thick walls.
I hate it.
My sweet boy looks so scared and tiny in that flimsy hospital gown, his shoulders hunched and his arms crossed over his chest like he’s trying to disappear.
I should be in there.
Keeping us separated is bullshit.
Maybe I’d feel better if I could hear Jude’s voice.
Taking a deep breath, I drill down my senses, focusing hard. It takes a moment, but I can actually hear the doctor’s muffled voice, but not Jude’s. It’s infuriating.
After a moment, Jude lies back on the exam table, then he places his feet in a pair of metal stirrups.
Dirty thoughts flash through my mind, imagining what it might feel like to rut him while he lies there, but the image quickly vanishes when the doctor lifts his gown, exposing Jude’s trembling body to the cold room.
My fingers curl with the urge to rip through the wall that separates us.
This is just medical. I know that. But my possessive senses are in overdrive.
That’s my omega. My mate. His body belongs to me, and she has no fucking right to touch him.
My blood begins to boil when she touches Jude’s penis, then his balls, her movements clinical and detached. Then she sticks a gloved finger into his ass while she presses on his stomach with her other hand.
My heart pounds, a heavy, angry rhythm against my ribs.
I see Jude frown, his face scrunching up like he’s uncomfortable, and I feel a slip of embarrassment flutter through our bond.
That’s it.
This fucking exam is over.
I turn to race into the other room to hold my mate, to shield him from that fucking beta’s clinical touch, but before I can take a single step, the door to my exam room swings open, popping against the wall.
A large alpha doctor steps into the room. He’s older than me, maybe in his late forties, with salt-and-pepper hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and broad shoulders that strain against his white coat. He doesn’t look like a man who spends his days behind a desk.
“Pace Greene?” he asks, his voice a deep, calm baritone. “I’m Dr. Vance. I’ll be conducting your physical.”
“I want to see my mate,” I snap, my voice a low growl.
Dr. Vance doesn’t even flinch. He just closes the door behind him, like he’s used to dealing with alphas like me. “Dr. Whitaker is a professional,” he says. “Your omega is in good hands.”
“I don’t fucking care.” I jerk to move past him, but he holds up a hand, his palm flat and firm.
“You have a freshly mated omega with a brand new mating bite.” His eyes narrow at my face. “There’s a possibility he could even be pregnant. He needs to undergo a thorough screening, and you know it.”
Shock hits me, followed by a spark of hope.
Pregnant?
Fuck.
I always wanted a babe or two, but I never really thought I’d be lucky enough to find a mate, let alone claim an omega.
Fucking, pregnant!
The thought deflates me a bit.
I’m still amped and kind of angry, my instincts screaming at me to protect what’s mine, but I have to admit, this alpha is right. Jude’s health comes first.
I glance back at the monitor, and a wave of relief washes over me when I see that Jude is sitting up, his privates covered, while a nurse takes his blood.
“Fine,” I grunt. “Get this over with fast. I want to get back to my mate.”
Vance studies me for another second before nodding. He taps something on his tablet, then looks up.
“How was his heat?” he asks.
I frown. “What kind of fucking question is that?”
“Standard,” he replies evenly. “Did you experience any rage toward him? Any disgust? Indifference to his scent or taste? Did he seem overly sweet or bitter at any point?”
My lip curls. “Nothing like that,” I say flatly. “There wasn’t a single second I felt anything but drawn to him.”
Vance raises a brow, waiting for me to elaborate.
I cross my arms, jaw tight. “He’s the only thing I want to see, taste, and fuck from now until the end of fucking time.”
That earns a small, satisfied smile from the alpha. “That’s what I like to hear,” Vance says. “It suggests you’re a strong scent-match. When there’s no aversion and no aggression during heat, the bond is typically stable.”
Some of the tightness in my chest eases at that.
Stable.
Good.
“And your knot?” he continues calmly.
My eyes narrow. “What about it?”
“Size. Coloration. Sensation during lock. Did it inflate evenly? Any pain? Excessive pressure?”
I push a slow breath out through my nose. “It was healthy.”
“That’s not a measurement.”
“It swelled fully. Darkened like it’s supposed to and locked tight.” I shrug. “No pain. Just pressure.”
“Duration?”
I hesitate.
“How long were you knotted to your omega?” he presses.
My patience snaps. “Jesus Christ. Do you want to see my fucking dick?”
Vance’s voice lifts, pleased, “Honestly, it would help.”
“Fuck off,” I growl.
The corner of his mouth twitches like he expected that response. “I’ll take your word for it. Approximately how long?”
I drag a hand down my face. “Long enough. Normal range.”
He studies me for another moment, then nods, apparently satisfied.
“Are we done?” I ask.
“Almost.” He grabs a few documents out of a nearby drawer, handing them to me. “Fill these out. Bond acknowledgment, medical disclosure, reproductive consent.”
I grab a pen from him and start signing without reading half of it.
“If everything looks good with your mate’s screening,” Vance says, “we’ll file with the state registry and finalize the mating. It usually takes a few business days.”
I stop writing. “And then he’s legally mine?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“And if his family objects?”
Vance shrugs slightly. “He’s over twenty-one. There are no signs of abuse. He wasn’t purchased or traded. Legally, it doesn’t matter what his family thinks.”
That settles something deep in my gut.
“But if you anticipate interference,” Vance adds, “we can recommend legal counsel.” He opens another drawer, pulling out another sheet of paper filled with names and phone numbers.
“If there’s a missing person report on your mate, then his family will be notified of his mating once everything is filed.
If you think your mating will be an issue… ”
I hand the paperwork back, then wave off the list of lawyers. “I’m confident it won’t be an issue.”
He gives me a knowing look, making sure I don’t want to change my mind.
“I was just curious,” I add.
Vance nods once, then puts the paper back.
“Of course. But I’d like to recommend that your mate tell his family in person.
It would go a long way if they choose to take this to court and claim your omega was forced into a mating.
” He lets out a heavy sigh. “Some parents struggle to acknowledge these kinds of matings, even when no one did anything wrong.”
I nod, then glance back at the monitor again.
Jude is all alone now, fidgeting while he waits, but he doesn’t look afraid. In fact, our bond feels pretty settled.
And soon, on paper and in law, he’ll be mine in every way that matters.
Twenty minutes later, I wrap an arm around Jude’s shoulders, leading him out of the agency and into the bustling city street. He looks up at me, his big blue eyes wide. “Are we going home now?”
“Yeah,” I say, pulling him closer. “We’re going home,”
A wave of pure, unadulterated bliss flows through our bond, and Jude leans his head against my arm. I kiss his hair, breathing in his sweet scent.
My mind is still reeling from what Dr. Vance said.
Pregnant.
The thought is a fucking lightning strike. Jude could have my baby in his belly right now, a tiny life growing inside him, a product of our frenzied, desperate mating.
Of course, we won’t know for sure for at least a few more weeks, but I can still hope. The idea of having a family with him fills me with a warmth I’ve never felt before. I tighten my arm around him, a fierce protectiveness swelling in my chest.
Mine.
All mine.