CHAPTER ONE

Early summer sunlight streaming through the window warmed his cheek, and his nose itched as it pressed against Mir’s hair. He peeled his eyes open and made a mental note to start drawing the curtains at night. Eight hours of darkness was almost perfect, but next month it would reduce to less than four and a half, and Mir needed their sleep more than ever.

The suffixless child’s name didn’t seem appropriate for the heavily pregnant, alpha-ish individual sleeping beside him with the side of their face mashed into the pillow and their mouth a little open. Nevertheless, Mir was the most unique, fascinating person he’d ever encountered. Trying to pigeonhole Mir with a gender suffix would be a pointless undertaking. If he spent a lifetime with them, which he planned on doing, he still didn’t think he’d fully appreciate the gift he’d received. Thick tawny hair that smelled like cinnamon, a round, pup-like face, and a lower lip bigger than the top. Under the quilt, he didn’t have to try to visualize the body he knew almost better than his own. Mir was the biggest omega he’d ever met, they’d even be taller than most betas, and their muscled, tanned body spoke of many hours working outside, working with him, despite their swollen, pregnant belly.

His instinct, his wish, was to leave Mir sleeping while he got up to provide for his family, but Mir would tear him a new one if they thought he was coddling them. Omegas were meant to be delicate, and you needed to be sensitive when interacting with them. Being sensitive to Mir meant treating them like a farm hand. A farm hand Tavish would happily sleep beside for the rest of his life.

Unfortunately, now he was awake, the primitive part of his brain demanded he do far more than cuddle. Every morning the urge to be intimate increased a little more, and his usual routine forced him to get moving. Wake Mir, put the breakfast on, retreat to the shower after Mir had dressed to deal with the boner he tried to ignore.

“Morning, Freckles,” he rumbled against Mir’s ear.

“Morning and stop with the freckles.”

He smiled at the rough croaky words. Mir’s voice didn’t seem to want to wake up any more than Tavish did. Although he had chores to do, he didn’t move, content just being in relaxed physical contact with the person who had snuck under his defenses and become the center of his universe.

“But they’re cute.”

“Trust you to find the only remotely cute thing about me.”

Mir might protest, but they squirmed a few inches closer. Tavish knew Mir only snuggled with him because he provided comfort from the nightmares rather than having any genuine attraction to him. Nevertheless, he indulged in a shameless fantasy that in a line of a hundred alphas, all bigger, wealthier, more attractive and exciting than him, Mir would unerringly pick his bookish, inexperienced, boring self.

Whatever his damn hormones made him feel, as a doctor, he knew Mir’s mental condition was improving even with the setbacks he’d caused with his thoughtlessness. More frequent two-way conversations, an increasingly upright posture, and occasional signs of annoyance made him preen like one of the lovesick saps in his ma’s romance books.

The cockerel crowing from inside the hen house broke the spell. They groaned in unison.

“I’ll get breakfast going while you get washed and dressed,” he said and rolled out of bed.

“You’re a slave driver, you know that?” Mir pulled the quilt over their head.

“Yep, and I was like this before the balls and the big dick, so get used to it. Now shift your cute little freckly self; those chickens won’t feed themselves.” The easy banter put a huge smile on his face as he wandered out of the bedroom in his boxer shorts and a hastily donned T-shirt.

Growled words followed him. “I am not cute or little.”

“To me you are,” he called back.

Mir continued to gripe, but their exact words were lost as the bedding rustled. He pictured Mir echoing his words in the sarcastic way Mir clearly thought Tav never saw. Although he did, every single time. He had to admit to pushing Mir’s buttons just to get that reaction. Because Mir was unbearably cute, whatever they said.

The days were getting increasingly warm as Spring headed toward Summer. All around them, nature was putting forth new life, and in six weeks or so, the sound of babies would invade his and Mir’s home. He couldn’t wait.

Tavish paused as he opened the door to the hallway, hackles rising as the scent of a beta hit his nose. A flashback to the visit of the pair of unknown betas hunting Mir set his teeth on edge and balled his fists. Nobody would take Mir away from him while he still had breath in his body.

Swiftly closing the door to the bedroom where Mir had just shuffled into the bathroom, he crept into his living area, trying to place the foreign but annoyingly familiar scent.

His irreverent, red-haired younger sibling sat on his sofa, arms spread along the back on either side, grinning like the cat that’d gotten the cream. Apart from a little more muscle, Clay hadn’t changed physically in the intervening five years, although their clothing had taken quite a step up. The dark blue leggings with a broad red blood stripe hugged their legs almost as if they’d been painted on, and through the gap in their brown leather jacket, he spied an equally tight blue silk shirt. As a pup, Clay had constantly sought attention, but judging by the way confidence oozed from the young beta, they’d been getting a great deal of the right sort of attention.

“Clay? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“And I thought you ‘natural types’ got up early. I’ve been here for half an hour.” Waving a hand at the painting hanging above the mantelpiece, Clay added, “At least your taste in art has improved.”

Clayen’s grin dropped from their face to be replaced by a deepening frown as they got to their feet. Clayen stalked toward him, nose working as they scented the air.

Shit was about to hit the fan, and balls or not, there wasn’t a damn thing Tavish could do about it.

The biggest grin Tavish had ever seen on his beta sibling’s face chased away the initial wide-eyed shock when Clay was two feet away.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God. You fucking well alphaed. Natelle’s going to blow a fucking gasket!”

By this time, Clayen was right up against him. Without asking for permission, Clayen stuck their nose up against Tavish’s chest. The last time they’d met, Dr. Taven Grabar had only been two inches taller than Clayen; now, the top of Clayen’s head didn’t reach his chin. Tav realized with amazement that Clay was several inches shorter than Mir.

Rolling his eyes, Tavish let Clay scent him. The sooner his sibling accepted the change with every sense, the sooner he’d get some sense out of the little shit. Two surprisingly strong arms wrapped around him and hugged hard enough to make Tavish grunt with the pressure.

Clay stepped back, wiping at glassy eyes before squinting up at him.

“Crap, you really are a big bugger now, aren’t you? I think you even top Lang. Are you done with the growth spurt, or are you going to tower over Father too? Because that’d be fucking hilarious.”

“It’s good to see you too, Clay, but you don’t have to go into bat for me with the folks because They Are Never Going To Find Out.” He poured every ounce of alpha dominance he possessed into his last words. Clay’s face paled in reaction. No quip bubbled from the sibling who manipulated everyone around them with a grin and a joke. Instead, Clay shrank down and broke eye contact.

For a moment, deep satisfaction warmed Tav’s chest, then he realized he was doing precisely what he’d hated all alphas doing for the vast majority of his life. Fucking hormones.

Resting his ass against the edge of the kitchen counter negated the size difference a little.

“I’m sorry for going all alpha, but I have a good life here, and I don’t need the complication of them thinking I’m joining the race to the Grabar top spot.”

Clay sniffed at him again. “Speaking of a good life, Father’s going to be damn pissed when he finds out that not only have you alphaed, but you’re already mated and,” they sniffed again, “you’ve knocked her up. When you set your mind to something, you really fucking go for it, don’t you? Who is she?”

He didn’t want to explain, didn’t want to share any details because Mir was his.

“Chamomile tea?” he asked.

Clay cocked their head. “That bad?”

With gritted teeth, Tavish made two mugs of tea and pushed one across the counter to where Clay now perched on one of the three stools. Truth or lie was the question he briefly wrestled with, but Clay had always been a devious bugger. Having Clay on his side would be a hell of a lot easier and more beneficial than fighting his sibling. Besides, the clock was ticking down to when Clay and Mir would meet face to face. And although he told himself it didn’t matter, he wanted them to like each other.

He took a mouthful of the tea, wishing it was something stronger. Clay just sat there and watched him, or perhaps he was examining the scruff on Tav’s face and wondering why he didn’t proudly sport a beard.

“I’m not mated,” Tavish said, annoyance bubbling at having to admit it.

“But I can smell her all over—”

Tavish refused to let his garrulous sibling dominate the interaction. This was his farm, his life, his omega.

“And in future, I’d appreciate a heads up before you just drop in. I chose this place for a reason.” He put his tea down as something else occurred to him. “How did you screw this address out of Sibiren? You didn’t hurt him, did you?” Clay had never been violent, but Tavish couldn’t think of another reason why his old mentor at the hospital would have given him away.

Clay frowned and folded their arms over their chest. “Don’t start getting out of your alpha pram again, Tavvy. Just because you’ve got balls now, and I don’t, it doesn’t mean you can stomp on me like the others do.”

Guilt hit like a sledgehammer, and Tavish pushed a hand through his hair. “Sorry, sorry, these damn hormones make me cranky, especially where Mir is concerned.” He didn’t miss the way Clay’s brows drew together at the use of a child’s non-gendered name, but that was a deeper conversation. “Please, feel free to give me a virtual smack round the head if I start coming on all unnecessarily ‘alpha’ on anyone. I don’t want to be like them.”

Clay grinned, back to being a clown again. “Tough shit then. Like it or not, you’re an alpha now. Deal with it. And I didn’t do a thing to your uptight friend Sibiren. I found out where they lived after I found out your mail was being redirected to their place. I seduced one of the other betas there, Ferren, I think. Busy little dark-haired beta. While they was sleeping after I knackered them out, I found Sibiren’s address book.” Clay grinned broadly. “You know me, Tav. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

Tavish ruefully shook his head as he smiled at his beta sibling. “Lord, I’ve missed you, you mouthy little shit. I know this is juvenile, but can you imagine Natelle’s expression when she finds out another one of us alphaed? Have any of hers manifested yet?”

The grin Tavish remembered from childhood blossomed on Clay’s face again. “Not a single one, and she’s only had two sets of twins. What’s your omega carrying?”

“Triplets,” Tavish answered with utter wicked delight.

Clay almost fell off the stool, laughing. It hit Tavish just how different his own voice sounded now. At one point, he and Clay had been sound-a-likes, if not look-a-likes.

“As much as I appreciate your irritatingly unexpected visit, why have you taken the time out of your busy schedule of goofing off to come all the way up here instead of sending a letter via the hospital?”

Clay no longer focused on him. Mir stood, stock still, at the entrance to the small corridor to the bedrooms, face pale, body stiff and fists clenched. The scent of their fear hit Tavish like a freight train. As usual, Clay jumped in with both feet.

“Well, hello, beautiful. I’m Clayen, Taven’s, sorry, Tavish’s, devilishly handsome and incredibly funny younger sibling.”

Mir’s eyes flashed to Tavish, but to his joy, they didn’t bolt back to the bedroom.

“Not very chatty, is she? But you’ve been very busy, brother of mine,” Clayen said, their eyes on Mir’s belly.

Mir stood up tall and looked down their nose at Clay. “They aren’t his. Tavish is just helping me out of a bad situation.”

“Seems like you can put bollocks on a beta, but you can’t take the doctor out of the alpha. Is this why you’re up here in the middle of nowhere, Tavvy? You’re running a refuge for skanky, abused omegas? I take it that knotting them is part of the therapy because I can smell her all over you.”

Restraining himself, Tavish glanced over to see how Mir took the insult he knew Clay didn’t mean. His brother had never been intentionally mean without a good reason.

To Tavish’s joy, instead of making a run for it or sinking down into a protective ball, Mir walked right up to Clay and delivered a perfect right hook to the redhead’s chin. Clay didn’t end up on the floor on his ass, but it was damn close as the beta fell off the stool and staggered a couple of paces to keep upright. Tavish hastily re-evaluated his assessment that Mir expected him to provide protection. It seemed that Mir could do quite well against a lone beta.

Mir’s gaze flicked to him, and they started to shrink down, clearly expecting punishment for using a physical defense when Clay had only delivered a verbal attack.

“Oh, no, you don’t. They deserved that. Clay, apologize to Mir.”

Unabashed, Clayen grinned at Mir as they wiped their mouth and checked for blood. There wasn’t any.

“Mir, huh? I think I’m in love. Trust you to pick a feisty one, Tav. Your Mir is so much more fun than Natelle. Come on, tell me all, where did you find her?”

Tavish ignored the question. “Mir prefers beta pronouns, and a Brussels sprout is more fun than Natelle. Do you want some breakfast or what?”

Clay shrugged. “He, she, them, it’s all the same to me. Pronouns are pretty archaic constructs if you ask me, just like gendered suffixes. Well, you always were a bit different, Tavvy, just like me. But breakfast would be great. You know me, I’m always up for some grub. Although judging by the eight or nine inches you’ve grown since the last time I saw you, eating must be your new favorite hobby, that is, unless growing balls has given you another one?” Clay’s eyebrows waggled up and down.

“Mind your own business, and if you want breakfast, you can cook it. Mir and I need to feed the animals.”

The pair put on their boots, but Tav hung back as Mir made their way over to the barn to get the chicken feed. He noticed Mir’s gait change a little more every day as the pregnancy hormones widened hips and Mir’s center of gravity shifted.

Turning back to Clay, he let out all the alpha dominance he could manage. “Leave Mir alone, Clay, I mean it. They’ve been through more than you could possibly imagine. Got it?”

To his satisfaction, Clay dropped their gaze in submission. “Sorry, Tavish, I was just joking, you know me. Bacon and eggs, right?”

“And beans and toast. We’ll be back in half an hour. Then you can tell me why you’re here, and I want a straight answer.”

Tavish made his way over to the barn, glancing over at the rented horse that stood by the barn Both the animal and the saddle looked as if they’d seen better days, and contrasted strongly with the pristine polished black leather saddlebags slung across the horse’s rump. At least he’d given the poor beast a bucket of water and pinched some hay from the barn. His back pricked as he thought about who else could have been sneaking around his property, unnoticed, while he and Mir slept like babies.

Clay had clearly planned on staying at least a night, but that couldn’t be helped. Their presence disturbed Mir. His beta self cringed at how he’d dominated his sibling, while his inner alpha considered it a job well done. Mir deserved an explanation of how the Grabar family worked, as Mir’s family had been tiny compared to the Grabars.

How he approached this could make or break his relationship with Mir, and it would have to be done with great care to keep Zepish’s name a secret without telling Clay why. Alternatively, he could just kick Clay out after breakfast. Unfortunately, Clay now knew where he lived. And as they had back at the hospital when they’d come to try to persuade him to affiliate one last time, Clay wasn’t above dragging senior relatives in as backup. Then, it had been their Untie Daven. This time, it could be Telish himself.