CHAPTER FOURTEEN

As soon as they moved into the living room, relief flooded Mir at the double doors being thrown open even in the cool evening. The guests already spilled out onto the patio. Having a visible escape route, even though they now had no reason to run, slowed their pounding heart.

The omegas all remained inside, but maybe those skimpy clothes made the late spring evening a little cool for such delicate people. Besides, because of their footwear, they’d all be confined to the patio anyway. No way could they walk onto the pristine lawn with those heels. Mir had no such concerns as they followed Tavish outside.

Several omegas cast glances in Mir’s direction. Some of them seemed merely curious, maybe even a little envious that Mir’s alpha ‘let’ them dress and behave how they preferred. Perelle gave Mir a smile where she stood with a young alpha who looked as if his manifestation hadn’t happened long ago. He reminded Mir of Caffish the last time they’d seen him, earnest, gawky, a good person. At least this young alpha hadn’t been cursed with Caffish’s hook nose and red hair, in fact, he wasn’t bad looking, if you didn’t mind weak chins, but his beard would hide that when it came in properly. If he was a suitor for Tavish’s shy sister, by the look of him, she could do a hell of a lot worse.

The three omegas who stood with Natelle wrinkled their noses as if a bad smell had just wafted through the room.

Both betas and alphas greeted Tavish with smiles, congratulations, handshakes, and the occasional pat on the back as he stepped out onto the patio. His concern about being shunned because he refused to affiliate to his father as a beta had been completely forgotten. The conversation with his older brother had appeared to have killed any animosity toward the return of the prodigal alpha. Like his father and everyone else here apart from Natelle, Langish was clearly delighted to add another alpha to the Grabar crop.

The beta that had first greeted them, Daven, stood with Clayen near the lawn. Tavish murmured “sanctuary” and made a beeline for them.

“I don’t know how you did it, Clay. Keeping quiet about Tav for the last week must have been like keeping a huge fart in,” Daven laughed before spotting Mir behind his nephew.

“My apologies for the crass language Mirelle. I didn’t know you were there.”

“I grew up on a beef farm, Daven, shoveling cow shit and sticking my arm up their asses and channels to test for pregnancy and reposition calves. Even though I no longer have much of a dick, the word ‘fart’ is not going to make me faint.”

Daven blinked, and his mouth opened and shut.

Clayen chuckled and clapped his untie on the shoulder. “I told you she was a little unusual; she may actually be the exception to the rule.” Tavish joined in the laughter as the three family members looked at Mir like they was a performing dog there for entertainment. Their glower only fueled the collective amusement at Mir’s expense. Fury bubbled. No one would dare laugh at an alpha like this, but omegas were fair game.

“And what rule is that?” Tavish asked.

“That omegas are so boring they aren’t worth talking to, but I like you, Mir,” the red-haired beta said with a smile. The dandy had changed into a Grabar kilt, probably because they’d been ordered to, but their snowy-white shirt had more lace ruffles on the collar and cuffs than the omegas had on their dresses.

Mir plastered on a sickly-sweet expression. “I’m so glad you find me entertaining. I can give you a matching bruise on the other side if you want.” Daven’s eyes flicked between the two of them.

“She did that?” he asked as he pointed to the slight bruise on Clayen’s cheek. The way the young beta’s face started to redden had Daven letting out a mighty guffaw, closely followed by Tavish and then a still red-faced Clayen.

“From what I heard, I got off lightly. And you might get one too if you keep calling Mir ‘she,’ they like they/them.”

“Noted. If Mir can cope with Tav the terrible, they must be pretty fierce.”

“Tav the terrible?” Mir asked Tavish.

His shoulders slumped. “I told you about the postbeta, right?”

“You told her, sorry, them, about that?” Daven asked, clearly amazed.

“I don’t keep secrets from Mir, not anymore.”

Clayen raised their eyebrows at Mir, daring Mir to claim the same thing. Mir raised their chin. “If you’ve got something to say, Clayen, spit it out.”

“Is it true you used to be the regional omega fight champion?”

If looks could kill, Clay would now be a corpse, and Tavish was hastily schooling his face into a more sober expression.

“No, it’s not,” Mir growled. “My fights have never been for points or had referees. I usually only beat up nosy betas and alphas who make up daft lies.”

“But you’re clearly not above hitting a fellow omega,” Clayen held up his hands, “if it’s warranted, of course.”

Mir’s eyes narrowed, not sure what Clay was getting at, but it couldn’t be anything good, judging by the earlier laughter. “I defend myself and those I love, and if you think that’s odd because I can get pregnant, that’s your problem, not mine.”

Daven blinked, but Clayen grinned, and said, “If you weren’t already taken, and if I had balls, I’d marry you in a second.”

Mir stuck their nose in the air. “You couldn’t handle me.”

Clayen barked with laughter, drawing disapproving glances from several groups around them. “And Dr. Alpha-beta can?”

“I’ll have you know that I’m a very happy hen-pecked alpha,” Tavish said, in a haughty tone.

Mir slapped Tavish’s arm. The big alpha rubbed at the spot, trying to look aggrieved. “See what I mean?”

“Well, this is certainly the most entertaining group here, judging by the laughter and scowls you’re getting,” Langish said as he joined them armed with a tray of drinks, three beers, and an apple juice.

“So, who is your lovely bride? I don’t recognize the name,” Tavish asked, thankfully taking the focus away from Mir. These two betas might think the banter amusing, but Mir didn’t want to risk the double of the alpha in Hell, seeing Mir as any sort of threat to his brother.

“Her family runs a haulage business. Our goods, their wagons.” Langish took a swallow of his beer. “Makes perfect business sense, although I think father is a bit pissed that the Finchleys asked for me, not him.”

Tavish snorted. “I’d pay to see the expression on Natelle’s face when she gets put aside, but I think the Finchleys made the right choice.”

“Definitely,” Clayen piped up.

Daven frowned at his nibling. “Stop sucking up. You’re just trying to keep your place in the main house when Lang takes over.”

“Speaking of which,” Tavish said, “Where are you and Dayelle going to live? I don’t see there being room for three omegas in one house.”

“Remember that cottage father put aside for ma?” Langish said and took another swallow of beer. “The Finchleys are staying over there now and are irritatingly strict about no sex before the ceremony. I mean, she’s been proved, so I don’t see the problem. But… those are their rules.” He shrugged, then a grin lit his face. “They are leaving right after the ceremony to get the night train north, so if you all could make nice with the rest of the guests so Dayelle and I can have some much-anticipated alone time?”

“No witnessed first heat mating? You really are a modern alpha.” Tavish seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his brother’s company.

“Modern enough for you to consider affiliating?” Langish’s raised eyebrow said he was only half serious.

“I don’t think there’s a cottage on this whole estate that’ll keep all our omegas apart. Mir’s pretty territorial.”

“Back to basics old school, eh?”

Tavish wrapped an arm around Mir. “You’d better believe it, and I wouldn’t swap them for a dozen refined omegas.”

“Just try it, doctor, and see what happens,” Mir growled. The comment produced a grin on all the beta and alpha faces.

As Langish and Clayen teased Tavish about being under Mir’s thumb, Mir tuned them out as the babies reacted to the waves of tension and relaxation they’d been experiencing over the entire day, and particularly over the last hour. Straightening their spine and arching backward, Mir tried to give them a little more room as one seemed to be using their lower ribs as pull-up bars. Without the girdle that Tavish had suggested, Mir would be in pain, rather than merely significantly uncomfortable, and the shoes they’d thought were lovely earlier now felt as tight as some of those stupid omega slippers.

“Quieten down, you lot,” Mir whispered as they gave their belly a clandestine rub.

“Babies giving you problems?” Langish asked. “Ma always said twins were more than double the trouble, and Father said you’ve got three on board?”

“Yep, according to Tavish, there are three in here.”

“Not sure if I envy them or feel sorry for them. Having a twin is both a curse and a blessing, especially if they’re identical like my brother and I.” The world shrank down to Mir’s immediate surroundings as Tavish stiffened beside them. Tavish had mentioned having two alpha brothers, but he hadn’t said they were identical twins. Why?

Lang continued, oblivious. “To be honest. I always not so secretly hoped that Zep would end up a beta or omega. It would have been fun to see what I’d look like as something else, but he alphaed too, not that he can even be bothered to drag himself to his twin’s guardian ceremony when even my prodigal surprise alpha brother managed it. I really appreciate that, by the way.”

Zepish.

The name bounced around in Mir’s head, hunting for a place to settle and infect the world Mir had just begun to believe existed.

Langish had an identical twin alpha brother called Zepish.

Tavish’s brother is the alpha from Hell, and he knew. I told him Zepish’s name, and he never said a damn thing.

A knife of betrayal stabbed into their heart. All the thoughts about this being a setup came barreling back. A tsunami of hurt crashed toward them, polluting the air with fear and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it.

“Mir?” Tavish asked, radiating concern.

“I’m fine, just going to pee,” Mir muttered and hurried back into the house, mind whirling. Yes, they needed to go, but going upstairs back to their room, a place that had limited exits, was too damn risky. They needed to think, to plan, and behind a locked door.

“Bathroom?” Mir asked a group of omegas frantically.

“Down the corridor, second door on the left,” blurted the omega Mir recognized as the bride-to-be.

“Thanks,” Mir called back as they almost sprinted in the indicated direction.

The bathroom was white with gold taps on the three sinks. Ducking into the end cubicle of the block of three, Mir ripped their leggings down, wishing for the first time that they’d asked Tavish for a dress, or at least a kilt.

The amount of urine released was pitiful compared to the amount of discomfort they’d been in. Sitting in the quiet, behind a locked door, Mir tried to think about the situation rationally. Impulsive actions hadn’t always helped them, but… escaping Hell had totally been the right move.

Think like Tavish.Every interaction they’d had screamed that the odd, bookish alpha cared about Mir and about the babies. Surely no one could keep up a consistent pretense for months without a single slip? They desperately wanted to believe Tav’s compassion was genuine, rather than an elaborate, cold-blooded ruse cooked up between brothers.

Do I believe Tavish did everything he could to keep himself isolated from his family and protect me? The answer had to be a resounding yes.

So why didn’t he tell me he recognized his brother’s name when I mentioned it? Mir scrambled for a reason other than the obvious one, that the brothers were in this together.

Zep wasn’t a unique name; no malthusian names were unique given that the vast majority of pups had three- or four-letter names consisting of a consonant, a vowel and another consonant. Plus, names were frequently passed down from parent to pup. Mir hadn’t known a Zep as a pup, but the butcher in Hartcote had been Zapen. They would have been Zapish if they’d alphaed. There might well be more than one Zepish in Malthusia.

Tavish might have been suspicious that his wayward alpha brother was involved in the abuse, but why would he mention that if he didn’t positively know? He had probably kept his brother’s details to himself for Mir’s sake. Mir imagined Tav agonizing over whether to tell them or not, just as he’d agonized over mentioning his suspicions about Mir’s siblings.

Mir had been a mess when Tavish found them, and he’d probably concluded that they would run again if the connection got mentioned. He’d probably have been right. Now that Mir was drug-free, healthy, and a little more rational, they couldn’t blame him for having a shitty relative. It wasn’t as if all of Mir’s were perfect.

The only thing that didn’t make sense was that the doctor in Hell had mentioned that Zepish’s brother was the Owner. Tavish only had two alpha brothers; there was no way Telish wouldn’t have been boasting if he had another alpha son. It left Mir wondering about Tavish’s dead mother. She’d died giving birth to Tavish’s youngest full sibling, but she might have had a child or two before coming to Telish. Tavish might have half siblings on his mother’s side as well as his father’s.

Mir didn’t doubt that Tavish would attempt to defend them from his brothers, especially one he’d never met. He was a good person, although they shied away from thinking of him as a good alpha; the two words never went together in Mir’s experience.

They’d never imagined in their wildest dreams that they’d ever care about an alpha, but Tavish was unlike any alpha Mir had met. The rather formal, clearly eccentric alpha smelled like safety, like home. Even though Mir had only been away from his side for a few minutes, they missed him. But do I trust him? Tavish had promised no lies, but hiding important details about their families from them meant the trust didn’t flow both ways. Tavish had an agenda, just like every other alpha, and it involved keeping Mir and the pups.

Was he still keeping things from them? Apologies after the fact didn’t cut it, even if they were genuine.

The pups had to be their only priority, and now, thanks to the revelation that Tavish tried to hide, Mir had options, although they wasn’t sure which was better. Their alpha brother clearly wanted them back. Would Corish want the pups? Tavish’s argument about an omega-specialist lawyer wanting to prosecute the sires of the pups rang true. Corish would DNA test the babies even if Mir didn’t say a damn thing. They couldn’t lose the pups, not after all this. Even the concept had fury and fear tearing at each other.

Closing their eyes, they took long breaths in and out as Tavish had taught them when panic took hold. They couldn’t let emotion rule. Automatically, Mir went to their happy place, watching Tavish grooming a horse while Mir sat on the bench under the living room window at Freedom Farm.

Things had been just about fucking perfect there. Mir wanted that safe isolation, that ignorance, again, now and forever. Tav could give them that if it’d been real and not a Grabar family plot. Mir needed more information and a plan. To get both, they had to be here, playing along, at least for now.

They wanted to talk this over with someone, and the only person that popped into their head was that big bookworm.

Stupid hormones. Whatever the cause, Mir couldn’t deny that being apart from Tavish made their heart pound, body sweat, and hands tremble like when they’d been withdrawing from the drugs in Hell. Not good for the pups. That tether they’d felt before, tugged on their ribcage.

Needing to get back to him, Mir stood up and pulled up the pregnancy leggings and was about to open the door when two pairs of omega-heeled shoes clacked into the bathroom.

“Oh Natelle, I just don’t know how you are keeping it together. What with your son keeping the fact he’s alphaed from you and his father, not to mention that horrible, foul-mouthed omega he brought with him,” a shrill omega voice gushed.

“Don’t concern yourself, cousin. Telish will talk some sense into Tavish. He’s only been an alpha for a year, and before that, his head was filled with all that warped, unaffiliated beta rubbish. He worked with wayward omegas at the teaching hospital in Malthus city. Did you see the way she ate?”

“I did, and I heard her swear too.”

“Disgusting.”

“I’m sure he’ll get rid of her once those babies are born. There must be some low-class alpha she’d be more suited to out there instead of a Grabar.”

Fury lit up Mir’s veins. Mir shove the door open with a bang, causing both highly made-up omegas to gasp in shock.

“No one, not Tavish or anyone else is going to separate me from my pups. And for your information, fart and shit are not swearing. If you’d like me to educate you about some actual swear words, I’d be happy to oblige. I’d also like to know what ‘wayward’ behavior you think deserves this.” Mir turned and pulled up their shirt, revealing the extensive scarring on their back.

“Now go back to your prissy, stuck-up little lives and thank your lucky stars that your alphas don’t do this to people weaker than themselves just for kicks. Tavish saved my life, and if I ever hear you bad-mouthing me or threaten my pups again, stepma or not, I’ll slap you so hard you’ll be putting lipstick on your ear.”

Natelle drew herself up to her full height, which was at least six inches less than Mir’s. “Telish will find a way to reverse whatever drug Taven used. He’s clearly not alpha material, although I could do without raising three more babies I’m not related to.”

The crack of Mir’s fist on Natelle’s jaw preceded the scream of her companion. Mir made a hasty exit from the bathroom. The trip from Tavish’s side to the bathroom had been quick, but their return journey was even swifter, and it was accompanied by the shrieks of Natelle’s omega companion.

Tavish still stood with Clayen and Daven, but everyone stared in Mir’s direction as several betas and an alpha Mir didn’t recognize hurried past them in the opposite direction. They were probably going to see what that daft omega was still screeching about. Mir hadn’t hit the stuck-up cow that hard, but they might as well have disemboweled the bitch as shit was about to hit the fan, big time. So much for keeping a low profile and watching.

The option of running flashed through their mind, but although Mir could take Natelle with both hands tied behind their back, they was no match for a group of alphas. A physical confrontation would cause Tavish to try to defend them, and that would not end well unless every alpha here was as bad at fighting as Tavish.

Submission and apology were the only choice. Mir’s teeth ground together at the thought. Yes, some of the alphas in Hell had beaten apologies out of Mir, but they’d never apologized to another omega in their life. Their personal pride didn’t matter, had never mattered. The scars covering Mir’s body screamed “Liar.”

Standing at the archway leading to the entrance hall, Mir began to go to their knees, hands wrapped around their belly rather than their usual choice of protecting their head. Mir didn’t matter, but the babies did.

Tavish reached them and pulled Mir back up to their feet with a strong hand on each elbow. “I am not going to punish you, whatever it is. Now tell me what happened.” Just his voice seeped reassurance into Mir’s being. With him shielding them from everything, Mir could speak. Keeping their eyes firmly on his belt buckle, Mir whispered, “I hit her.”

“Who?” Daven said, as he joined them.

“Natelle.”

“Oh, crap,” Daven groaned as Tavish sighed, and Clayen started to laugh as if it was the funniest thing he’d heard in years. They stopped when Tavish growled at them.

A deep and distinctly pissed-off alpha voice came from behind Mir. “Would you care to explain why your stepmother has a handprint on her face, Tavish?”

“I hit her,” Mir whispered.

“I bloody well know that. I just wanted to know whether it was just you that needed a punishment or whether she does too.”

Tavish bristled. “I know this is your house, Father, but Mir is not given to unprovoked violence...”

“That’s true. I certainly deserved the right hook they gave me,” Clayen butted in, but they quickly stepped back holding their hands up in a ‘don’t shoot me’ gesture when both alphas growled.

“Tell us what happened, Mir.”

The faces of father and son were dark with rage when Mir finished, but they stared at each other, not Mir.

“I apologize for the offense my omega caused, son. I assure you that I don’t believe for one minute that you used artificial means to alpha, and I have no designs on your offspring even if it were legal for me to do so. You know as well as I do that children are the responsibility of either their sire or their mother’s guardian. Rest assured, my omega will be appropriately punished.”

“Don’t hurt her,” Mir blurted.

Telish’s eyebrows rose but for the first time he spoke to Mir rather than Tavish. “Firstly, what I do with my omega is my business, nobody else’s. Secondly, she insulted my son and threatened his offspring. I control this family, not her, but as a favor to you, not that she deserves it, I won’t punish her physically. You are a very rare omega Mir. My son has chosen the mother of his children well.” With that pronouncement, Telish strode toward the hubbub near the bathroom.

Leaden relief filled Mir’s body, rounding their shoulders. With every passing second, the girdle pressed harder into their flesh, as if trying to leave even more marks on their skin. All they wanted was to take the damn girdle off, curl up with Tavish, and shut out all these people. He might be a liar and manipulator, but Mir didn’t have the strength to even pretend they didn’t need him.

The need for touch had become more vital than breathing. If they hadn’t been surrounded by strangers, to Mir at least, they would have their face buried in his chest, breathing in his safe scent wrapped in his arms. Mir could only hang onto his bicep, put their nose against his shoulder, and pretend they were alone.

Tavish turned to the still-hovering Clayen. “Give everyone our apologies, will you? Mir’s tired.”

“Sure thing, brother, and I still can’t get my head around that, but I’ve got your back.” Clayen turned to Mir. “If you ever need anything, give me a shout. I owe you one for standing up to Natelle; it’s a fantasy that’s haunted my dreams for years. Have a good rest; you’ll need it to cope with all the pomp and ceremony tomorrow.”

Tavish gave his grinning brother a long-suffering look.

“Come on Freckles, let’s get out of here.” His hand on Mir’s back no longer felt as if he was trying to control them as they headed up the staircase. Welcome and wanted, the touch instilled a sense of belonging, safety, and care. They shouldn’t crave it, but they did. Stupid omega hormones.

As soon as they got in the room, Tavish went into the bathroom, and Mir locked the bedroom door. The thunk of the lock screamed safety. Mir didn’t realize how tired they was until exhaustion covered them with a concrete blanket. Stripping quickly out the fancy clothes and the hated girdle, they slipped under the quilt, but something wasn’t right. This bed didn’t smell like Tavish, and by the sound of the shower, it wouldn’t smell like him any time soon.

Getting back up, Mir rummaged in his case and pulled out the shirt he’d worn on the journey down. Yes, it was weird and a bit pathetic, but they was so tired that they didn’t care. The shirt against their face convinced their stupid hormones that they and their babies were safe, even though Tavish had withheld things from them. But Mir was even guiltier of that than Tavish.