Chapter Thirty-Two

Riley

A part of me expects Red to have Eve in a mating press five seconds after we make it back to the den.

Instead, all of us are surprisingly … hesitant.

Baxter lies with her in the nest while I comb through the bathroom like a crime-scene cleaner. One pair of bloody underwear. Do I clean them or throw them out? Judging by Eve's distressed chirp, I choose the latter.

Thorn and Red hover, pushing their scents out. Residual panic still lurks in the atmosphere. Eve doesn't argue when I open up the windows, letting some fresh summer air flow through.

She's falling asleep by the time Thorn crawls into the nest, sandwiching her between him and Baxter. I catch a quick look from my head alpha and his second before they close their eyes. The message is clear enough.

Gently taking Red's wrist, I lead us out, closing the door.

I can barely fathom getting any more work done today, nor do I like the idea of sitting at my desk blankly. Red must sense my agitation—or, more likely, he's feeling it too—because he jerks his head down the hall.

We make it to the gym, stripping down in silence. His naked chest is already gleaming—is it a cold sweat?—and my sports bra feels too tight, digging into my ribs. My inner alpha is at a loss. Not for the first time, I guess, but the feeling hits a little harder when I have a pregnant omega on my mind.

"Uh … want to spar?" Red asks unenthusiastically.

I purse my lips. "Not really."

We go about our business. I don't even chastise him for skipping his stretches before starting on some dead lifts.

I grip the handlebars, hoisting my body up. Once. Twice. Normally, twelve pull-ups is ideal for a first set. But the drive just isn't there.

Red grunts, dropping his weight. "Fuck this."

I smile dryly. "You too?"

He huffs. "Probably just hungry."

I cast him a slower, more cautious look. "Sure you're not, you know … angry?"

"About what."

"Red. Come on."

He finally stops, turning to meet my look. Those crimson eyes are smoldering. "Aren't you?"

I'm not sure ‘angry' is what I'd call it. Maybe when the news first dropped, and the full weight of it settled over me—that we'd been depriving our poor omega for weeks, maybe months, because Marcus insisted her body couldn't handle us—yeah. That was anger. But at the same time …

"Marcus wasn't wrong," I say aloud. "Sure, it was his idea to ban all sex, but the rest of us went along with it."

Red arches his brow at me. I roll my eyes.

"For the most part."

He scowls. "I only held back because Baxter said to."

"Exactly. It wasn't just Marcus who thought we were doing the right thing."

"But Baxter only listened to him 'cause he's a nurse. If I'd pulled him aside to say we need to quit screwing our omega—" at my look, he scoffs. "Okay. Bad comparison. If you 'd pulled him aside, there's no way he'd have gone along with it."

He makes a valid point. We place more trust in Marcus for these matters. It's only natural, considering his expertise.

"He probably knew how important it is for omegas to get knots, sex, whatever, during pregnancy," I relent.

"And he decided none of that stuff applied to Eve."

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Decided for her."

Marcus is normally so mindful of Eve's autonomy—it's one of the things we always see eye-to-eye on. I get the sense he's terrified of repeating the past, way back when Eve got her first heat and he tried to impose his medical training.

He must've been pretty damn concerned for her and the pup to fall back on old mistakes.

"So what now?" I ask, more lightheartedly. "You gonna beat him up the second he gets home?"

"Yeah right. Chances are he'll come back with his tail between his legs like a lost puppy. I'm pissed, but …" he shrugs. "I'm not a monster."

We laugh it off, but I catch a twinge of tension in Red's jaw, like maybe he's not entirely proud of his earlier behaviour. He's not the only one. I also feel a little off about leaving Marcus alone at the hospital in that half-broken state.

He'll be home soon, I remind myself. Then he and Eve can talk it out, and Baxter can … well, do whatever it is Baxter needs to do.

To make us whole again.

***

It all happens strangely like clockwork. Marcus delivers himself to Baxter's study. The door is closed for about fifteen minutes before he emerges, pale, but firm, and heads upstairs to apologize to Eve.

Red and I hover at the foot of the stairs, pretending we're not trying to eavesdrop.

There's a scoff from the kitchen. "Sloppy," Thorn says, leaning against the bench.

Red and I jump, hastily dispersing. "We weren't doing anything," Red snaps.

Thorn gives us a look. "Door's open, but their voices are too high pitch to carry. You won't hear anything from down here."

Damn Marcus and his stupid soft-spokenness.

I don't expect to see Marcus for another hour at least, but he wanders into the kitchen before Red is even finished cooking. Still in his scrubs, he frowns, looking somewhat dazed. Or maybe just exhausted.

"I thought we were doing takeout?" he says.

Red quirks a brow. "You doubting my skills?"

We're all waiting for it—a laugh, or smile, or some thing to indicate everything's back to normal—but Marcus just blinks. "Uh, no. Not at all. Is there time for me to take a shower?"

Red's too bewildered to press the argument. He grunts in vague affirmation, and Marcus disappears back upstairs.

"Christ," Red mutters, "what the hell do you think happened?"

To my surprise, it's Thorn who responds, "Nothing good." He considers. "But probably nothing bad."

"Not exactly reassuring," I murmur, already twitching to go after him.

"Leave him be," Thorn says, reading my body language.

I shoot him an uncertain look and find those dark eyes betray a hint of tenderness. He's not being cruel. More likely than not, Marcus just needs to sleep it off. Maybe we all do.

In my pocket, my phone buzzes. I check the screen.

UNKNOWN

We still on for Friday?

Well. If one thing has been made crystal clear through all of this, it's that my parents really do have remarkable timing.

I type back, for once not giving the words much thought.

Looking forward to it.