Page 16 of His Prodigal Alpha

I mean, seriously, where I came from, men couldn’t generally knock up other cis-presenting men.

Alright, so where I came from, men’s penises didn’t change shape and lock them inside their lover mid-orgasm either,so I supposed my logic might have required reevaluation.

Nevertheless, I thought I could —and should— be forgiven for floundering a little under the circumstances. Riding a building wave of self-righteous indignation off that thought, I turned back to Beckett. “Tactful, huh?”

“I was getting there,” he protested, appearing chagrined. “I was trying to ease into it. I know it’s jarring, so…” He trailed off, rubbing his free hand over the back of his head. “I didn’t realize they’d be bringing Damon with them.” Turning to face his lover, he arched an eyebrow. “What happened to one step at a time, babe?”

Ollie remained completely unrepentant, shrugging his shoulders. He gestured blithely in my direction. “What was I supposed to do? Keep Day in the dark about Matthew McConaughey here arriving on our doorstep?”

For his part, Beck just cocked his head and waited in silence.

Ollie huffed. “Fine,” he practically whined. “Imayhave pushed the issue to get him up here. But you know how I feel about keeping secrets. Put yourself in Rex’s shoes: how would you have felt if you were…I don’t know…being given a tour of the town and you saw the guy you knotted with a huge baby bump and you realized you were theonlyperson in town who hadn’t put two and two together, hmm?” He folded his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. “Do you really think that was the better alternative?”

“Well, no,” Beck acknowledged. “But did you have to spring him on the poor guy without any warning at all?”

“You’rethe one who was supposed to give him the basic warning about alpha/omega biology. If you’d done that, I’m willing to bet he would have been smart enough to think back to knotting an omega and consider the possible repercussions.”

Beck snorted. “Like we did, huh?”

A chill that had nothing to do with the December weather descended. Ollie’s cheeks flushed and his pretty face lost all signs of mirth.

Understanding that he had quite obviously stepped in it dawned over Beckett’s expression. He reached towards Ollie. “Shit, baby, I didn’t mean—”

He was silenced by Ollie’s hand being held up, palm outward, the hurt in the younger guy’s green eyes enough to make even me feel guilty. “Just don’t, Beckett. You know howstupidI felt…”

Beck closed the space between them within a couple of long strides, carefully repositioning the baby in his arms so he could pull his young partner against him for a hug. He murmured low apologies and reassurances into Ollie’s ear, and I averted my gaze, feeling awkward.

This was not the kind of moment I should be intruding on.

The other man who had entered the room with Ollie and Damon made his way past the couple, hardly heeding them any mind. He was tall and blonde, blue eyed and buff. I rose from my seat and extended my hand towards him, considering he was already reaching his out towards me.

“Doctor Eric Weldman,” he introduced himself as we clasped hands, and I noted that we were roughly the same height, though I was lankier than him. His handshake was firm, but not in that macho, posturing way. Similarly, his smile was kind while his eyes contained an analytic gleam.

“Rex Murphy,” I replied.

His nostrils flared. “Mountain lion,” he declared, then cocked his head. “Interesting. There goes my theory about alphas taking on the species of their mate post-bonding…so perhaps the compatibility and fated component is genetically predisposed.”

“Fated component?” I asked, blinking in surprise. “You tryin’ to tell me this whole mess was meant to be?”

Eric wasn’t shaken at all by my sharp, incredulous tone. He just tilted his head from side to side, explaining, “It’s a possibility we’re considering. Not fate in the sense that you’re likely assuming, but that there are specific mates out there who are so compatible with you that meeting triggers a mating heat —or, in your case, a mating rut— and unlocks your previously hidden alpha designation and shifter abilities.” He sighed and shook his head. “What we obviously don’t know, given that you and Damon are only the second known case of this happening, is how to determine that compatibility ahead of time. It seems to be an instant, unpredictable connection, likely predetermined by pheromones and genetic factors.”

“Genetic factors?”

“It’s our belief that you surprise alphas likely have at least one shifter parent. I don’t know your personal history, but Damon said that you scented human before you mated.”

I cringed, both at the reminder of Damon storming out only minutes earlier, and at the word ‘mated’. “That’s what he told me after I…” I gestured down towards my crotch. “Y’know.”

“Knotted him,” Eric supplied clinically. “Yes; it was the same for Beck and Ollie. Beck didn’t begin to scent as shifter until after they’d mated and bonded. However, you didn’t bond with Damon, and you still scent like shifter, so it’s likely the bond itself plays no part in bringing out one’s alpha after all.” He brought a hand up to stroke his hair-free jaw. “Fascinating, really.”

I frowned. “What’s the difference between bonding andmating?”

“Mating is just his fancy science-y term for the sex and knotting and breeding,” Ollie supplied as he wandered over and joined the conversation, bending to pick a pink mug from the tray Jazz had set down earlier. He poured himself half a cup from the coffee press and then added creamer and sugar while he chatted casually, “Bonding is where shit gets really weird.” He paused while stirring his spoon in his cup, the metal tinkling pleasantly against the ceramic. “Whoops. Sorry,” he looked over at the two babies in Beck’s arms, “don’t repeat Papa’s bad words, kids.”

I shared a conspiratorial glance with Beck and smothered a snort. But then what Ollie had been saying caught back up with me and I prompted, “What do you mean bonding is where it gets really weird? Because my cock changing shape? Kind of what I’d callreally weird.”

“Did you have the urge to bite Damon when you achieved orgasm?” Eric prompted and I was glad I wasn’t drinking my coffee, because I would have spat it all over him.

“What?!” As it was, I was choking on my own spit. “What kind of fu—er—fudged up question is that?”

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