Page 23 of Broken Pregnant Mate
When I was with Vern, I basically handled my heat alone. As a beta, he didn’t understand the cycle and didn’t like it whenI went into heat. After the first few times, I realized he didn’t like for me to proposition him for sex, and that, when he could tell I was in heat, he’d actually draw back, like he knew how much pain I was in, and didn’t want to help me.
Like he got enjoyment from leaving me alone for it, with the knowledge that I might get a little relief from him.
Once again, I swallow, pulling my eyes away from Aidan. I’ve never been with an alpha before, but I’ve heard other omegas say there’s nothing like it—being with an alpha means your heat makes sense. It means, instead of bright, burning frustration, you’re just filled with satisfaction, finally understanding the urges inside you when they’re paired with someone who matches.
Vern was never going to be that person.
“Emaline?”
I realize Aidan is watching me, those dark eyes leveled on me. I’ve seen him like this a million times before—this is the face he makes when he’s not sure if I’m okay. He still cares about me, wants to make sure I’m alright, to the point where he’d lie to Vern about being my mate.
At least I don’t have to worry about Vern coming back around here while he’s gone.
“Sorry,” I choke, realizing I’m getting lost in my thoughts again. Forcing a smile onto my face, I wave my hand. “You’re right—it’s best for you to go. We wouldn’t want anything to happen…”
The moment I say it, the smile drops from his face, his eyes falling to my lips, and I try to step back, only to remember that I’m already up against the door.
I force a laugh, shaking my head. “Not that anythingwouldhappen—”
“Emaline.” To my surprise, Aidan steps forward, taking both my hands in his and looking down at me, his face soft. “I would never do anything like that to you. And I’m sorry about that kiss yesterday—I know it was uncalled for. I honestly just panicked and didn’t know what else to do. It was a mistake, and I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” I clear my throat, look away from him. “Right. Yeah—it was a mistake. It’s best for you to go now.”
He holds my gaze for a moment, something—is itdisappointment?—crossing his features before he drops my hand, nods, and moves away from the door, slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder.
“I’ll plan to come back in a week,” he says, finding my eyes when there’s a good amount of distance between us again. “Is that okay?”
“It’s usually done in three or four days,” I say, cupping my opposite elbow with my palm and trying not to tear up. “If you wanted to come back sooner, I could text you…”
“That sounds good.” He nods and moves toward the door, like he’s just itching to leave. “See you later, Emaline.”
“Bye.”
And with that, he’s going down the stairs. The door opens, shuts. He’s really gone.
Of course he’s gone—that kiss was a mistake. He has his mate to think about—even if he’s attracted to me, even if he might want casual sex, he has a real soulmate. And I respect that he wouldn’t risk anything with her just to be with me.
But that doesn’t stop the sting of rejection, the shape of his mouth sayingit was a mistake. I swallow it down, turn, run my hands over my face, and look for something to distract myself before I do something stupid, like run after him.
***
The next morning, the knock on the door makes my heart jump into my throat.
Logically, I know it’s not Vern. But with everything I’ve been through, it’s hard to listen to logic, hard to reason myself out of the fear I feel automatically, surging through my body.
Especially after spending the night here alone, tossing and turning, wondering if Aidan might come back early. Even though I know it’s not logical, and it wouldn’t make any sense, I couldn’t stop myself from fantasizing that he might walk through the door, apologize, and realize he’s been wrong the whole time.
But nobody came, and I hardly slept, and when I woke up this morning, the first thing I wanted was something sweet.
Toast in hand, slathered with some blackberry jam that I haven’t been able to stop eating, I creep down the steps and to the door, where I can peek through the tiny window. All this worry, only to see the top of a head, copper curls spilling down onto shoulders.
“Kira?” I ask, opening the door, covering my mouth with my left hand while I try to chew a particularly large bite.
Her eyes dart to my right hand, where I’m holding the toast, and her face lights up. “Oh! You tried the jam—do you like it? Did you find it too sweet?”
“No,” I say, word muffled through the food in my mouth. “It’s perfect. But I never think anything is too sweet.”
A childhood without candy made me develop a serious sweet tooth, though there’s no reason Kira would know that. The jam was my only option, especially when Aidan’s cabinets revealed he must be on some sort of body-building diet, all full of protein powder and nothing even remotely edible for me.
