Chapter Eleven
Jude
Iwake up early, the pale gray light of dawn just starting to filter into the bedroom.
The house is quiet, except for the low hum of the fridge and the steady sound of my mate breathing beside me.
Pace is on his back in my nest, half-covered by a blanket that has slipped down to his hips. One arm thrown over his head, the other resting on his stomach, and his cock is on full display, lying heavy against his thigh.
Heat creeps up my neck as I consider leaning down and taking him into my mouth. Waking him up slowly with an early morning surprise. But he worked very late last night. In fact, I’m not even sure what time he got home. I must have been out cold.
He needs his rest.
I slip out of my nest carefully, pulling the blanket up over Pace’s hips before I head toward the kitchen.
I pull flour, eggs, and milk out of the fridge to make pancakes. My appetite has been ridiculous the last few days. I keep telling myself it’s just stress, or maybe my hormones settling.
I’ve been hyperaware of every little shift inside my body since the agency mentioned the possibility of pregnancy. Every twinge makes my mind race. Even now, I realize that my nipples kind of ache.
It’s not unbearable, just sensitive, and kind of tight.
The problem is that I don’t know what’s normal and what could mean I’m pregnant.
I crack eggs into a bowl and whisk them too aggressively, then I pour myself a glass of juice while the pan heats up.
That’s when I hear it.
A chime.
Pace’s phone.
But it’s not coming from the bedroom. It’s in the living room.
I freeze, listening, and the sound comes again.
I move toward the couch and find Pace’s hoodie draped over the back. His cell phone is in the front pocket, vibrating softly. When I reach in to grab it, my fingers brush against something hard and unfamiliar.
I pull the phone out first.
Then I notice the other items in his pocket. Small pieces of hardware. Circuit boards. Metal and plastic components that look like they came out of a computer.
Why on earth would Pace have them? He’s not exactly tech savvy.
The phone rings again, and I glance down at the screen. The Mating & Protection Agency flashes up at me.
My heart drops straight into my stomach.
What if they’re calling Pace to say our mating is invalid?
What if there was an issue with our paperwork?
What if my father contested it and they sided with him?
What if they’re telling me I have to go back?
I answer without thinking. “Hello?”
A polite woman’s voice greets me. “Good morning. May I speak with Mr. Greene?”
My brain stutters.
I know she means Pace, but I’m technically Mr. Greene now, too.
“Speaking,” I say, dropping my voice so I sound a bit more masculine.
I hear the faint click of keys on her end. “I’m calling from the MPA with the results from Jude Greene’s post-mating physical.”
My heart jumps into my throat. “Is…is something wrong?” I ask.
“Not at all,” she replies smoothly. “Overall, the results look very good. Blood pressure is within normal range. No signs of infection at the bite site. Hormone levels are elevated, which is expected post-heat. His iron is slightly low, but still within acceptable parameters. We recommend maintaining a balanced diet and adequate hydration.”
I grip the edge of the couch cushion. “Okay,” I manage to say.
She continues, still calm and clinical. “There were no indicators of physical trauma beyond what would be typical for a recent heat and bonding. All standard panels came back clear.”
Relief starts to loosen something in my chest.
“And finally,” she adds, “the early pregnancy screening was included in this panel.”
My fingers tighten.
“We have a positive result,” she says. “Your omega is pregnant, sir. Congratulations.”
Everything inside me goes quiet.
For a second, I can’t breathe.
Pregnant.
“Oh,” I whisper, and my knees go weak. I sink down onto the couch without meaning to.
I’m pregnant.
There’s a baby inside me.
Our baby.
My hand drifts to my stomach automatically. It’s still flat. I still look the same, but everything about me is different now.
The woman continues, still assuming she’s speaking to Pace.
“Keep in mind, this was the early detection panel. While omegas can have elevated hormones within hours of being impregnated, we still strongly recommend scheduling a follow-up appointment at an Omega clinic for confirmation bloodwork and to begin prenatal care as soon as possible.”
“Yes,” I breathe, fighting the urge to cry fat tears of joy. “Yes, of course.”
“We can forward the referral to your preferred clinic.”
“That would be great.” I thank her again, then she hangs up. But I just stare at the blank phone screen.
I’m pregnant.
A laugh bubbles up out of nowhere, half-hysterical, half-overjoyed. Tears blur my vision before I can stop them.
I’m still sitting there in shock when I hear footsteps behind me.
“Who was that?”
I jump, my stomach practically jumping up into my throat.
Pace is standing in the hallway in nothing but a pair of black briefs. His dark hair is messy from sleep, sticking up in different directions. His eyes are still heavy, voice rough and low with exhaustion.
He looks so cozy.
But instead of being excited, I start to panic, terrified I’ll be in trouble for answering his phone and for finding those weird computer parts. “I-I’m sorry,” I clutch the phone to my chest, “I heard your cell ringing, and I didn’t mean to snoop, I just—”
“Hey.” Pace crosses the room in three strides and cups my face. Then he places a soft kiss on my lips. When he pulls back, his thumb brushes under my eye. “It’s okay, Jude,” he says. “You can answer my phone. I trust you.”
I nod, not sure what to say to that.
“Who called?” he asks again as he channels his long fingers through my hair.
“It was the agency.” I take a shaky breath, a smile spreading across my face despite my nerves. “I’m pregnant.”
The change in his face is instantaneous. His eyes go wide, then a brilliant, blinding smile takes over his entire face. He lets out a laugh of pure joy, then he wraps his arms around my waist. The big alpha lifts me clean off the floor.
“Are you serious?” he asks, grinning like I’ve never seen before.
I nod, tears spilling freely now. “They said the early test came back positive.” I cup his face, laughing as pure joy floods our bond. “I have to go to the clinic for another blood test.”
Pace slowly sets me on my feet, then he presses his forehead to mine. “We’re having a baby,” he whispers like he just can’t believe it. His hands settle on my hips, then slide to my stomach, holding the small curve beneath my belly button.
“You did that,” I whisper.
“We did,” he corrects me, before kissing my lips one more time.
“Wow.” He wraps his arms about me, holding me to his warm, firm chest. “We have so much to do.” He rests his chin on the top of my head as I press my nose right over his heart.
He smells so damn good. “We need to go shopping. You’re going to need maternity clothes, and we’ll need to get you some of those long, donut-shaped pillows.
” He releases me, gazing at the clock over the television.
“I’ll call the clinic as soon as they open. Maybe they can get you in today.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Maybe we should wait for the clinic to confirm the pregnancy first.”
My mate cups my cheek, then he kisses the tip of my nose. “Sit,” he orders gently, nodding toward the couch. “Get comfy. I’ll make breakfast. My pregnant omega is not lifting a finger.”
I sit down on the couch, grabbing the remote off the coffee table. “Do you want to watch something while we eat?” I call toward the kitchen.
Pace is already moving around in there, pulling out bowls and turning the stove back on. He looks over his shoulder at me, a wide smile plastered on his face. “I’m happy to watch whatever you want, baby.”
I turn on the TV, hoping for something light. A sitcom. Something stupid and funny.
But the news comes on first. I frown as the anchor shifts to a more serious story.
I hate the news. It's always so depressing. But right before I can change the channel, I stop, recognizing the building on the screen. It’s Thorne Enterprises, my father’s company.
There are a bunch of police cars blocking off the main road, and police tape is keeping anyone from entering the parking garage.
My hand trembles as I quickly turn up the volume.
A field reporter in a NEWS9 polo is standing in front of the police tape.
“I’m here downtown where a shocking story is developing,” he says in that steady, measured reporter voice.
“Police were called to the scene just after four am. Marcus Thorne, CEO and founder of the energy company Thorne Enterprises, was found shot to death inside the company’s parking garage. ”
Shot to death.
That can't be right.
How?
The camera cuts to flashing lights and officers moving through the garage entrance. But I feel…nothing.
Not shock or grief. Just a strange hollow space inside my chest.
The footage switches to a large alpha with a grim face, talking to a bunch of microphones. His police badge flashes in the early morning sun as he looks right into the camera. “At this time, we’re not ready to classify this as a homicide,” he says in an official tone.
“Is it true the building was robbed last night?” Someone off-screen asks. “Could it have been a robbery gone wrong?”
“We are not prepared to officially link the two incidents,” the officer says. “We are following several leads and ask anyone with information to come forward.”
I’m vaguely aware of the couch dipping beside me as Pace sits down quietly. He takes my hand in his, brushing my knuckles with his thumb, but I keep my eyes glued to the TV.
The scene cuts back to the reporter. “Sources close to the investigation say Mr. Thorne was found with a letter believed to have come from Bruce Sterling,” the reporter continues.
“There have been reports of tension between Thorne Enterprises and Sterling Tech following a merger that recently fell through.”
Bruce.
The name slides over me like cold water.
The reporter keeps talking, but the words start to blur.
Dead.
My father is dead. Why does this feel so surreal?
Pace gently takes the remote from my hand and mutes the television. “Jude,” he says softly. “Are you okay?”
I blink a few times, struggling to find my words. “I don’t…feel anything,” I admit. My voice sounds far away, even to me.
Pace shifts closer, his warm leather scent filling my lungs.
“Is that bad?” I ask. “Am I a bad person for not feeling sad?”
“No,” he says immediately.
I look up at him, taking in his very serious expression.
“You’re not a bad person, Jude,” he says firmly. “In fact, you’re the best person I’ve ever met.”
I give him a look, not really believing that.
He smiles slightly, serious and sure. “I swear.” He cups my face in both hands, then kisses my cheek. “Your father was a real piece of shit,” he says quietly. “He doesn’t deserve your tears. And you don’t have to feel guilty for that.”
I swallow.
“But if you do want to mourn him,” Pace continues, “I’ll support that. We can plan a funeral, and call—”
“No.” I shake my head quickly as I slip my hand over my stomach, pressing my palm flat there. “I meant it when I told my father I never wanted to see him again.” My throat tightens, but I still have zero urge to cry. “He never loved me,” I say. “Not once.”
It sucks saying it out loud, but it’s true.
“I feel so bad,” I say. “But I’m actually relieved that he can’t hurt us anymore.” And that’s true. The fear that used to sit in my chest like a permanent weight is gone. I look up at Pace. “Our baby is safe.”
The word baby makes something warm spread through me, and my bond with my mate glows warm with love.
Pace pulls me fully into his arms, wrapping me up tight against him. I press my face into his neck and breathe him in. Solid. Steady.
Mine.
“I love you,” he murmurs into my hair, holding me tight.
It doesn’t take long for the shock to fade, and the numbness in my chest melts away. But the guilt I usually feel is replaced by a profound, peaceful relief. I’m safe. We’re safe.
I lean into my mate, my alpha, the father of my baby, and for the first time in my entire life, I know, without a single doubt, that everything is going to be okay.