Page 14 of His Unicorn Alpha
And Micah.
“…a beach?” Damon was saying, clearly still offering ideas for the vacation he had suggested. “Or what about a ski chalet somewhere? What kind of places do you find relaxing?”
“My lab,” I grumbled, and he snorted and pushed off the bench, shaking his head.
“Just think about it,” he told me as he walked out the door. “A break might do you some good.”
No, I thought to myself, absently running my hand over my tiny bump,facing the inevitable will.
I just needed to confirm that there was something worthy of confessing first.
“Hello, my beautiful babies,” I murmured to the monitor, amazed at how much my children had grown.
At just over twelve weeks gestation, they were no longer amorphous blobs, but proper human-shaped fetuses. They had defined fingers and toes, rounded heads and curved spines, and perfectly beating hearts. I could see them all flickering away, anda quick check had them averaging around one-hundred and fifty beats per minute, which was well within the expected range.
Swallowing, I flicked the switch on the ultrasound machine that would produce the sound, and I sat back on the bed to bring the wand to the first of my children. The rapidwhoosh-whoosh-whooshbrought tears to my eyes.
Performing my own ultrasounds was an awkward affair, but I managed. I knew that the rounder I became, the more difficult doing so would be. But I would be telling Eric soon —once I worked out exactly how I was going to tell him— and I was certain that he would assist me, even if he was disappointed in my actions.
But, until I gathered the courage, I was going to enjoy my private joy on my own.
I moved the wand to the next baby, my eyesight blurring as morewhooshingplayed over the speaker. I listened in rapture, losing myself in the steady, strong rhythm.
It was an addictive sound.
Finally, I shifted my hand, seeking out my third baby. But, at that moment, the exam room door swung open with Eric’s voice speaking mid-way through a sentence.
“…there soon, I just forgot to grab—what the fuck?”
I whipped my head around to face him, watching as his phone slipped from his hand to the floor, and I winced as it clattered on impact.
He scooped it up, his blue eyes never leaving mine as he spoke into it. “Beck, change of plans. Something’s come up. No, no, it’s fine. I’m sure I’ll be there soon.” Then he terminated the call and stared at me with shock and hurt plain on his face. “Please tell me I’m hallucinating.”
I swallowed, and I didn’t very much feel like I was the eldest in that moment. I shook my head.
Eric stepped further into the room, shifting his gaze from mine to the monitor, then to my exposed belly —covered in gel and with the transducer wand held awkwardly to my skin— then back to my face. “You’re pregnant.”
It wasn’t a question. I nodded anyway.
He took another step forward, running his hand through his blonde curls in agitation. “What…how…Brandt.” He looked at the screen, at the still images I had managed to capture for my records, and then frowned. “You’re at least twelve weeks.”
I nodded again, trying to find my voice. Almost five centuries old (I’d lost count of the specific years at that point) and I felt like a chastened toddler.
I deserve his ire, I reminded myself, though I was still trying to avoid it.
“Twelve weeks and three days,” I managed to croak. But it had only been ten weeks and three days since they had been implanted. It was frustrating that we were measuring omega pregnancies by human and beta female standards, but considering our young appeared to gestate at the same rate, it made sense to include the standard two weeks for ovulation.
Eric sat heavily on the rolling stool and took the wand from my hand, pushing me back to complete the check-up himself. He took measurements —likely more accurate than my own, seeing as he didn’t have to contort his body to do so— and studied my children’s organs and development with a practiced eye.
Once he was done, he set the wand aside, handed me a wad of paper towels to wipe myself off, and sat back, watching me in silence as I hurriedly slipped my shirt back on.
Eventually, he folded his arms and stared me down. “Start. Talking.”
So, with no other choice, I did.
Chapter Six
Green grass flattened beneath my hooves as I cantered across the lush field behind Beck and Ollie’s home. The air here was fresh and free of smog or exhaust fumes or the body odor of thousands of tourists and city residents alike. It felt good to be stretching my long, golden-colored limbs, to be feeling the sunshine on my coat. To shake out my mane and my tail and run free and uninhibited.
