Page 51 of Not Ready

He palms my stomach, and I finally gasp in a breath that I didn’t know I was holding. The bond forms, linking our souls together, and pure contentment slips in. I’m not sure if it’s a combination of Bishop’s feelings, or maybe this is the bliss omegas explain when they find a member of their pack.

Tears ache in my eyes, but my emotions are solely happy.

I get to keep him forever.

Chapter Nineteen

Holt

Idon’t know what the ever-loving fuck I’m doing. Apparently, I’ve lost my goddamn mind. The omega perfume has rotted away my cognitive functioning until all that’s left is baser instincts.

I sit outside the door to the primary bedroom, listening to Vale moan for hours. It’s got to be close to two or three in the morning by the time it settles down.

My impulses are convinced I’m supposed to be in there, and I don’t have the first goddamn clue why.

I didn’t grow up in a pack, like Mercy or Bishop.

I’ve never had much interest in sharing an omega.

I’ve also never spent much time with any that weren’t the victims we were rescuing from shitty situations. Not that I didn’t feel compelled to protect them—find a real alpha with any integrity who can walk away from an omega in distress, and you’ll find yourself a liar. It’s just not possible with how our impulses work, but those jobs were simple.

Get the omega to safety.

Move on.

Bam.

Job complete.

Vale is safe.

She’s wrapped up tight with Bishop.

She’s good.

So, why the fuck am I leaning against the bedroom door, unable to walk away? Why does my system seem convinced that I’m not going to rest until I lay eyes on her?

Bishop will likely murder me if I go in there. It’s a legitimate possibility, considering how thick her perfume has been.

That, alone, tells me something is up. I know because I spent a solid hour scouring the internet for information.

Pregnancy is supposed to curb heats, meaning no perfuming. I did eventually find an article that said, sometimes, finding a compatible pack can jump-start the hormones responsible for heats, but again, she’s pregnant. Considering how fucking rare it is to find an unbonded pregnant omega, the article didn’t have shit to say about that situation.

But she’s clearly okay.

They’re both asleep, based on the fact the sex sounds have died down. My fists clench as the back of my head bumps against the door frame.

I’m not going to be able to relax until…

The frustrating part is, I don’t know what will help me relax.

I’m losing my shit.

My mind won’t stop racing with questions and concerns.

I shove off the floor, using my feet and hands. The only thing that is going to stop the aching in my chest and the compulsive thoughts is seeing for myself that she’s fine.

I’m highly fucking trained.

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