Page 27 of Truth or Lie

Alex sat hunched in her broken seat, panting rapidly. Her curtain of dark hair obscured her expression, but low snarls still emerged from her lips every few seconds. Beckett approached her slowly, his posture open.Look at me, it said.I’m totally harmless. Just a defenseless pregnant omega, no threat to you at all.

In Beckett’s case, that body language was deeply misleading—but it worked well enough to keep Alex from erupting into fresh violence as he moved closer.

“Alex,” he said—a beloved carrier soothing a distraught pup.

My throat tightened, long-buried memories of family and loving arms holding me bubbling to the surface. Alex peeked out from the shelter of her hair. She snarled again, baring her teeth, but the sound choked off in a whimper. I held my breath as Beckett closed the final distance separating them, half-expecting the metal seat arm to go flying toward his head.

It didn’t, although it did clatter as she raised her freed hand, reaching for him. A terrible, keening moan rose from her throat—the weak cry of an injured animal caught in a trap. Beckett angled his unwieldy belly into the cramped space in front of her and let her clutch at him.

“All right,” he said, wrapping an arm around her heaving shoulders and placing a steadying hand on the nape of her neck. “We’ve got you now. You’re going to be okay, you hear me? Kam’s here, too. He’s going to give you a shot in your left shoulder that will make you sleep. And when you wake up, things will be better.”

Beckett met my eyes and gave a beckoning jerk of his chin.

“We’re all safe now,” I said, approaching with the same unthreatening omega body language Beckett had used. “We’re back at Nikolayev’s compound, so it’s fine to rest for a bit. Everything’s okay, but I do need to give you this injection. I’d say something about a little prick, but that would be crass since there are two male omegas present.”

Beckett snorted in dark amusement.

I slipped into the space behind Alex’s seat, giving the syringe a final check and popping the protective cap off the needle. “Don’t laugh. You probably haven’t seen your own prick in months, Mr. Preggo,” I said, and slid the needle in, depressing the plunger.

I’d been on high alert, prepared to duck an attack and praying Beckett could also move quickly if he needed to. Alex only jerked—letting out a low warning growl, but not moving from his protective hold.

“There, now,” he said, stroking her hair. “Let’s give that a minute or two to kick in, shall we?”

I capped the spent needle and moved into the aisle, ready to retreat again. To my surprise, Alex reached for me with her freed arm, her fingers outstretched and grasping. Caught out, I sent Beckett a questioning look. He nodded. After setting the syringe safely out of the way, I took Alex’s hand and pressed it between both of mine.

Her wrist was horribly bruised from the cuff, and the broken seat arm clanked against the chair frame as we stood there in the deserted private jet—me in the aisle, and Beckett still jammed awkwardly into the gap between seat rows. Alex rocked restlessly in our grips, her body quieting by gradual degrees until a long sigh escaped her lungs and she slumped forward.

Beckett, looking decidedly pasty, eased her back and half-collapsed into the seat next to her. His jaw clenched, and his arm returned to clutch at his belly.

“We need to discuss what will happen if I’m not in a position to stay with her until she’s better,” he said tightly.

And...balls. I’d been right. He was going into labor.

“I haven’t spoken with Leo yet, but I’m open to helping Alex with this,” I said, ignoring the elephant-sized baby belly in the room—at least for now.

Beckett looked up at me. Sweat beaded his brow. “And you understand what that will mean? Truly?”

“Yes,” I said.

His pain-filled gaze didn’t let up. “She’ll try to bite you. But in her right mind, she wouldn’t want that.”

“I know,” I snapped. It wasn’t as though the implications had escaped me. All I’d have to do was get my neck near Alex’s teeth, and I’d have that third mating bite I’d craved so badly. All it would take was compromising my morals and taking advantage of a helpless sex partner trapped in a chemical rut.

“Right. Of course you do.” Beckett sounded apologetic. “God, what a fucking mess.”

He went suddenly very still, and looked down at his lap. I followed his gaze to find his loose cotton pajama pants soaked along the inner thighs. The smell of blood hit me an instant later. The fabric was tinged red where his water had broken.

“Damn and blast,” Beckett said. “I suppose you’d better go and get the doctor in here now.”

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