Page 30 of Seduced By Two Alphas

Relief washed over his features. “It might not mean anything, Casey. You know sometimes my dreams are…hard to figure out.” He cracked a smile. “Though I did see a baby in your arms.”

I groaned as I fought off another bout of nausea. “Yes, I think I’m knocked up if this morning sickness is anything to go by.” I pressed my hand to my stomach. I didn’t think I would believe it until I started gaining the weight and my stomach rounded like Dillon’s.

“So you let your hair down and had some fun.” He snickered. “If you ask me, shifters are hard to resist, especially two of them. I swear my mates are obsessed with spoiling me rotten. And protecting me.”

“But Nezat isn’t after you anymore,” I pointed out. “He knows you’re already pregnant.”

“That doesn’t stop Lucas and Mikhia from being protective.” He shrugged. “It’s their way. Some nights one of them shifts into their black panther and walks around the property just to make sure everything is okay.”

“And your dad?” I asked. “What are you going to tell him when you’re too big to deny what’s going on with you?” His dad might fear him, but he loved both his sons, and I knew Dillon was trying with his father, trying to build a better relationship. It had only been a few weeks since we’d been kidnapped and Dillon was pregnant, but his dad truly cared about him.

“I’m still working that one out,” Dillon admitted. “I haven’t even told him I was dating at all, let alone dating two men.”

It was far more than just dating. Dillon’s soul was bound to Lucas’s and Mikhia’s. “Sooner or later he’s going to find out, Dillon. He flipped when he thought you’d spent the night at their motel room. What do you think he’s going to do when he discovers it was true?”

“This visit isn’t about me,” Dillon huffed. “It’s sad, but be thankful you don’t talk to your mom. Not that much, at least. You can put her off if she wants you to come over, claim the café is too busy for you to get away.” He frowned. “What are you going to do when you’re too big to hide the truth? I mean with the café.”

“You’re not the only one who’s still working things out,” I said. “Anyway, my dad came by my house two mornings ago.” Then I told him about how Albert had attacked Jack behind the café. “He’s working for Nezat now.”

“I never liked him,” Dillon said. “He was always a creep to me. I can totally see him as a villain since he was already one.”

I wasn’t going to argue that Dillon was exaggerating. He wasn’t. I just hadn't seen it at the time when I’d been dating Albert. I’d overlooked a lot of his flaws. There were just some people you’d dated that you wished you could erase from memory. Some people you were too embarrassed to admit had charmed you at one point. If you admitted that, then you were forced to admit some flaw inside yourself, and I wasn't ready to do a deep dive into that tangled mess. I was just going to stick to the reason that I’d been lonely and leave it at that.

If I didn’t, I’d question my judgment, and if I questioned that, then I would wonder if bonding with Jack and Ken had been the right thing to do. Since my morning was going along smoothly, why do that to myself?

“Okay, you’re stalling.” I sat forward and crossed my hands on the desk, accidently hitting the mouse. My computer came to life, showing a screen saver of me and Dillon when we’d been teenagers, our arms around each other’s shoulders, both of us smiling like idiots.

To be that young and naïve again.

Jack walked in without knocking. He set a plate down in front of me, a bottle of syrup, and a fork and then left. I hid my smile as I looked at the French toast and bacon then covered my mouth seconds before I found the trash can on the side of my desk and hurled.

“It does get better,” Dillon said. When I looked up, feeling like complete crap, I saw him eating a piece of my bacon. Did the guy have an iron stomach? Who ate when someone else was getting sick?

Dillon got up and opened the window in my office. The slight southern breeze infiltrated the room. The sun was already hot, but the breeze moving through the slats of my window felt wonderful.

“See, spoiling you rotten already.” Dillon smiled. “Admit it, you love it.”

I stared at the plate and winced, praying I didn’t get sick again. Dillon grabbed the plate, as if he knew I was contemplating throwing the food in the trash—though I’d still be able to smell it—and decided to rescue the poor French toast and bacon. “You know, Jack gave that to me.”

Dillon smiled. “But you’re not going to eat it, and my appetite is insane right now.” He finished the rest of the bacon and used the fork on the plate to slice into the French toast. “It would be a shame to let his good cooking go to waste.”

“Sure, help yourself,” I said dryly, seconds from sticking my head out of the window for fresh air, but I was too afraid to move for fear of hurling again. Hell, I was too afraid to move any part of my body at this point.

“You should carry around a sleeve of crackers. It helped me immensely when I was getting sick all the time.” He ate a forkful, chewed, swallowed, and smiled. “God, Jack is such a good cook. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

One of my brows arched. “Should I ask him to bring you something to drink to wash down my breakfast?”

“A cold glass of orange juice.” Dillon moaned as his eyes rocked back. “That sounds like heaven.”

“You could have an ounce of sympathy for me. Just a tiny bit,” I huffed. “After all, you went through it, so you know what this feels like.”

Dillon held up a finger. “Let me finish eating first, and then I can pity you.” He grinned, the devilish jerk. “I want to eat this while it’s still hot.”

The door opened again, and Jack walked inside the room. He set down some crackers and a glass of ginger ale. When he tried to take the plate from Dillon, my best friend actually snarled. The sound was pretty impressive considering he wasn't a shifter.

“Not if you want to keep those fingers,” Dillon said as he curled an arm around the plate. “Slowly back away from the pregnant guy’s meal. While you’re at it, bring me some more bacon and a glass of orange juice.”

“That’s why I was reaching for your plate,” Jack said irritably. “I was going to refill it.”

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