Chapter 32
With soft afternoon light coming through the sheers and a soft breeze washing through his bedroom, Dash lay on his side, facing Emerson in bed.
A smile stretched over his lips, a sense of peace calming him into a languid state.
He could look at Emerson for hours. That handsome face grew more intriguing by the day.
By the hour. The deeper he fell, the more entranced he became.
He didn’t recall them coming to his house or if Emerson had spent the night.
They never had before, but perhaps he’d been so tired he’d forgotten.
Regardless, he sensed they’d enjoyed one another in that bed from the satisfying soreness he felt in certain places.
He reached over and caressed Emerson’s fuzzy cheek, loving the soft scratches of his alpha’s beard.
“You’re always so warm,” Dash said, snuggling closer.
Emerson captured Dash’s feet with his own. “Good thing, because you’re always so cold.”
Dash rested his head on Emerson’s chest, chuckling. “Can we just lay here like this for the rest of the day?”
“Sure thing,” Emerson whispered. “We don’t have to move a single muscle.”
He kissed Dash’s forehead gently, rubbing his back with a slowly swirling palm.
Dash sighed, melting into his mate, unaccustomed to experiencing such calm.
Just give in and let love happen. He rather liked Emerson’s way of thinking on the matter.
Love had always seemed like this elusive thing he’d never find, especially after learning who he really was.
He’d resolved himself to being alone, but the alternative was way better.
Maybe they weren’t free to share their affections in public, but a private love was still more than he’d ever hoped for.
He smiled, lulled by the steady beating of Emerson’s heart, his eyelids growing heavier. As he lay there, that beating grew louder… and louder… and turned into a beep instead of a swish. Pain slammed into his chest, his next breath in a struggle.
Heartlessly dragged out of his dream, he opened his eyes.
Vision blurred, he noticed a television mounted high on the wall, the news playing.
Dash’s parents and brother sat beside him, silent and their faces somber.
His father watched the news and his papa stared at his hands.
As usual, Oakley read one of his true crime novels.
Emerson sat on the opposite side, elbows on his knees, head down in a pose of exhaustion.
It took a few seconds to realize he was in a hospital bed and a few more seconds to remember how he’d gotten there. He sat up and the world painfully spun.
“He’s awake,” his papa murmured.
Emerson rushed closer, gently pushing him back down.
“Whoa—let’s slow down there, hmm?” Emerson ordered gently, concern in his eyes.
“I’m fine,” Dash fibbed. His voice was hoarse and it hurt to speak. Breathing hurt, too, his chest sore.
Emerson lifted a brow. “You’re not fine.”
“I am,” Dash insisted.
“You went into cardiac arrest from smoke inhalation,” Emerson said. “You nearly died.”
Dash blinked a few times, shocked to hear that. He held Emerson’s gaze, letting the news settle in. But he’d gotten out of the building. He’d been safe. Hadn’t he?
“Is that why my chest aches so bad?” Dash asked, lifting a hand to it and gently massaged there.
“I had to perform CPR after you crashed,” Emerson said. “I bruised a few ribs in the process.”
“Great,” Dash muttered, sinking into the bed.
“You need rest. And you should limit talking to save your throat and lungs.”
Dash looked to the bed beside him and noticed Eliott there. He appeared asleep. “How’s he?”
“He had a ruptured spleen and needed surgery. Docs said it went well,” Emerson said. “He was awake and semi-alert a few hours ago and seemed uncomfortable, but okay. They loaded him up with pain meds and put his lights out again.”
“A few hours ago? How long have I been out?”
“Since this morning,” Emerson said. “It’s early evening.”
Dash glanced past his parents and noticed the dark sky through the window’s blinds. His gaze dropped to his family, who wore grim looks. “You don’t have to look so morose. I’ve survived.” He turned to Emerson. “I have survived, haven’t I? Or is this another dream?”
“You’ve been dreaming, hmm?” Emerson asked.
Dash smiled at Emerson. “Yeah… it was a good one.” He slid his hand closer to his mate’s before remembering he couldn’t. Pulling it back, he frowned.
Emerson smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
A heavy seriousness filled the room and sucked the air from it.
“Is something wrong?” Dash asked, looking around at each of them. “What’s going on? Did someone die?”
No one replied, as if they feared telling him something.
And suddenly, a realization hit him.
“Why am I in a room with Eliott?”
Omegas and alphas were typically segregated for safety reasons—alphas on one side of the hospital, omegas on the other. Either he or Eliott was in the wrong ward.
Emerson’s gaze fell to the floor.
“I had to tell them,” Emerson said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Tell who what?” Dash asked.
“The doctors. That there… was a chance…” Emerson cleared his throat. “A chance that you could be… pregnant.”
Dash stared at Emerson, sure he hadn’t heard that right.
A few uncomfortable seconds passed.
“Fuck you,” Dash spat, intense anger filling him.
Emerson winced, unable to hold Dash’s gaze.
Dash eyed his parents and brother, whose expressions had shifted to discomfort.
His family knew about his hybrid status.
He’d told them pieces of what happened after his forced retirement and subsequent captivity at the Alexandrian clinic.
He’d still been in some form of denial then and had refused to answer any deeper questions, as if ignoring the problem would make it go away.
More than anyone, his father had seemed to struggle with the news. Their relationship had been strained ever since. His papa and brother had just seemed to go back to life as usual, never bringing it up again, fortunately.
“I’m sorry,” Emerson whispered.
“And they put me in the omega ward,” Dash snapped. “Of course.”
No one spoke.
“I know you’re ashamed,” his papa said. “But being an omega isn’t as bad as it once was.”
“I’m not an omega,” Dash snapped, glaring at his papa.
“Don’t you yell at your papa! He’s only trying to help,” his father barked. After cursing under his breath, he rose and stormed out of the hospital room.
Dash closed his eyes, anger bubbling higher. Emerson tried to take his hand, but he pulled it away.
“Dash…”
“Emerson, I can’t even look at you right now,” Dash said, staring at the tiled ceiling.
“Don’t be like that,” Emerson murmured.
“Get out!” he roared before wincing from the pain of it.
Emerson didn’t move. Dash contemplated making the demand again, even if it pained him, counting off seconds like a bomb detonator.
Emerson cleared his throat before rising. “Make sure he listens to the doctors, hmm?”
“Sure,” Dash’s papa said, offering a weak smile.
Dash fought the sting of tears as Emerson walked towards the door.
The second he was gone, Dash could breathe a little easier, yet his heart ached to have his mate return.
He peeked at his papa and brother before staring up at the ceiling again, wishing he was alone.
The weights of their pitying stares were too heavy.
“You don’t have to stay,” Dash said, avoiding their gazes. “I’m good.”
“Dashiell,” his papa whispered.
“I need to be alone,” Dash said before clenching his jaw.
Oakley rose and headed for the door—but he stopped at it and marched back to the foot of Dash’s bed and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Do you really hate omegas that much?”
“I don’t hate omegas,” Dash muttered, rolling his eyes.
“As ashamed as you are of being part omega, one would think you did,” Oakley replied.
Dash eyed his brother. “How would you feel if you woke up tomorrow and learned you were part alpha?”
Oakley shrugged. “I wouldn’t really be bothered.”
“Bullshit,” Dash snapped.
“Because alphas are treated as if they’re better at everything. Even though they’re not. They’re at the top of the heap and get special treatment. I wouldn’t mind some of that at all.”
Dash clenched his jaw.
Oakley glared at him. “Whereas omegas are at the bottom of the pecking order. We’re seen as fragile and weak… submissive.”
Dash turned his gaze away from Oakley.
“And that’s the problem. After growing up as an alpha, gods forbid you lose your social status.”
Dash winced, realizing there might be some truth to that.
“You don’t want to give up your alpha privilege and be treated as something lesser. That means you see it. You see how omegas are still treated in this province—and you don’t want that for yourself.” Oakley scoffed. “Unbelievable.”
Oakley spun and stalked to the door, pausing before he left the room. “Glad you didn’t die.”
After he was gone, a few seconds ticked by in uncomfortable silence. Dash slowly turned to gaze at his papa, who stared down at his hands like they were the most interesting thing in the room.
“Do you agree with Oakley?”
His papa searched his face a moment. “I think it’s a bit more nuanced than that, but he does bring up a fair point.”
Dash pulled his gaze away, ashamed. Not of his omega side—but of disappointing his papa.
“I can’t imagine having lived nearly thirty years and then to suddenly find out I’m not who I thought I was,” Papa said.
“It was a seismic change, and it has likely eroded your view of self. When you came home, I could tell you were in pain. I tried to get you to talk about what happened—to help you work through it—but you refused every effort I made.”
“I did ask for your help.”
“To get scripts for Heatex and Scentex so you could continue to pass as alpha and pretend nothing had changed. The next time I brought it up, you shut me down so hard I never spoke of it again. Then today, we find out you have a mate we’ve never met and we might be grandparents.”