Page 299 of Labor of Love

“Yes. An alpha.”

I held him to my chest and breathed in his scent for the first time. “A bear,” I said.

“Well, he had to take after you in some way,” Tyler said.

“He’s perfect.”

“He is. Lincoln Tyler.”

The pain from the labor began to subside as my body healed itself. I moved over and allowed Tyler room to join me and our son on the bed.

“I love you so much, alpha.”

He kissed my temple. “I love you, Theo.”

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Jena Wade

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BLURB

Micah and Nash know they shouldn't keep sleeping together, but what will one more time hurt?

CW/TW: Discussions of abortion

1

Nash

Abead of sweat slipped down the side of my face, soaking into my helmet’s chin strap. Blinking once, I took a steadying breath and refocused on the target through my gun’s scope. I watched our perp yank the hostage back a step while he screamed at my teammates fanned out in front of him.

He was getting jumpy, and that made me nervous.

Micah motioned for the rest of our team to take a step back, but he stayed where he was. He stood only a few feet in front of the perp and hostage, one hand still holding his M-4 assault rifle against his shoulder and the other held out in front of him placatingly.

I switched my comms channel over, letting Micah’s voice, along with all the other noise happening at street level in the diner across from where I was perched, flood into my ear.

“Easy,” Micah was saying. “I just want to talk. I didn’t want to rush in here, but I got worried when you didn’t answer the phone, Steve. I can’t get you what you want if you won’t talk to me.”

I tuned out whatever the perp said back. Micah was calm. Somehow in his element in the middle of the chaos. The wind picked up, and even though it was impossible, I swore I caught a tendril of his scent—lemon and vanilla and an earthy spice that wasn’t quite cinnamon but all Micah. And it was as delicious as the first time I’d scented him at the academy all those years ago.

“Vulture.” The captain’s voice filled my ear.

“Go ahead, Captain,” I responded immediately, clicking the button on my throat mic.

“If you have the shot, take it. He’s deteriorating.”

“Copy.”

At that moment, the perp started to lift the hand holding the gun in Micah’s direction. I didn’t think. I did what I’d been trained to do. The trigger was smooth as butter under my finger.

Micah had the hostage tucked against him, moving out of the diner within a second of the body hitting the floor. As they passed through the diner’s door, he lifted his head and sent a single nod my way.

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