Page 122 of Slow Heat
Jason remembered times when he was younger that Pater went to the hospital during miscarriages. But then, as time passed, he stopped. Now he knew why. The drugs in his system would give them away and prison would be the best they could hope for. He sat tormented by his pater’s side, watching as he writhed and moaned, sweat dampening his hair and his limbs twisting up. “Is there something you can take for the pain?”
“Already took it. You don’t have to sit here, Jason. I’m okay.”
But Pater didn’t look okay. He was gray and occasionally let out a muffled scream that twisted Jason’s heart. He didn’t know what to do, but he suspected his Father would lose hismindif he came home to find them here and Jason hadn’t called him.
“I’ll be right back,” Jason whispered.
Pater thrashed on the sofa but didn’t respond.
He left the door open in case Pater needed to call for him and ran for the phone in his father’s study. When the call connected to the shipyards, it was hard to talk over the shouting and activity in the background, but he finally made it known to the beta who’d answered that he needed to find Father and send him home. “Let him know hisÉrosgápeneeds him. He’s…sick. Very sick. He’s in pain. Please. Tell him to hurry.”
Replacing the handset in the cradle, Jason took some slow, calming breaths, and tried to think. Pater was probably dehydrated. In the kitchen, Jason drew a cool glass of water and dampened a clean hand towel for Pater’s forehead.
Halfway down the hall, Jason jolted as a scream tore through the house. The water glass shattered on the hardwood floor, sending water and shards of glass everywhere, but Jason left it, running toward the conservatory and Pater’s cries.
Jason’s heart filled his throat to find Pater with his knees on the floor, his torso on the sofa, and his hands gripping the cushions. The ashtrays all around him had been kicked over, sending dust into the air and scattering it over the floor. Jason flushed with cold dread as he took in the rest: blood stained the back of Pater’s soft pants, the red growing larger and larger as Pater threw his head back, screamed, and pushed.
“No,” Jason whimpered. “No, no, no.” He rushed over and knelt by his pater, wrapping an arm around him. “Pater, what do I do?”
But Pater was too lost in pain to answer. The tendons of his neck stood out as he strained, pushed, and writhed, his body flexing and tensing. His formerly white face was almost purple from effort, and dark blood flowed from him below, staining his pants, and dripping to the carpet beneath his knees.
Jason soothed a hand over Pater’s sweaty neck. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere. It’s going to be okay.”
Don’t go anywhere?He chastised himself as he raced back to the phone.
He didn’t know what to do, or who to call. He flipped open Father’s address book and found a number for a doctor Pater had seen in the past, the one who sometimes came to the house after a rough heat or when Pater was sick, but the number wouldn’t connect. He called the operator and asked to be put through to the doctor’s office, but the line was busy and he couldn’t get through. He skimmed through Father’s address book for any other doctor’s name and number. He found nothing.
Desperate and short on ideas, he dialed Vale’s house and there was no answer. He tried again. Still no answer. From the conservatory, his Pater’s screams raised goosebumps on his arms, as he pressed zero with shaking fingers. When another operator picked up, he asked for the only other doctor he knew for sure had ever dealt with this sort of thing before.
“I need the number for Urho Chase, please. Actually, just put me through. Ring until someone answers. It’s an emergency.”
Vale sweated inagony, tossing on the basement floor. He’d managed to drink some water from the deep sink’s tap before the second wave started up, but he was still thirsty, and now he was too tired to crawl over and get his head under the spigot. That was part of what alphas were good for—taking care of their omega’s basic needs in the throes of heat.
He heard footsteps upstairs. Two pairs of feet from the sound of it. He hoped it was only Rosen and Yosef, but, for all he knew, Rosen had disregarded him entirely and called Urho or, worse, Jason for help. If the door opened right now and either alpha descended the stairs, Vale knew he’d be helpless to refuse them.
The heat was too much. The endless need overwhelming. How had he thought he’d be able to suffer through this alone?
The alpha dildo he’d brought down barely took the edge off without alpha pheromones to soothe his need, but at least it pressed against his aching prostate and pushed against the slick-swollen omega glands that encouraged his womb to descend and open. It wasn’t enough, but it might keep him sane.
It hadn’t even been a day. How was he going to get through four more?
Voices rose and fell above him, echoing in the pipes and vibrating through the floorboards, but he couldn’t make out the words or tell from the timbre just who was speaking. The phone rang upstairs and he shuddered as the shrill tone seemed to vibrate irritatingly over his overheated, oversensitive skin. It went on and on and he wondered why Rosen didn’t answer it.
But then it didn’t matter anymore because the next wave was coming. He desperately fucked the alpha dildo in and out of his ass, wishing Jason was here to do it for him, to lick his nipples, and suck his cock while soothing him on the dildo. Then Jason would throw the dildo aside, take his ass hard—
Oh, wolf-god!
He cried out, coming on the dildo and shooting a small load from his dick. It wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough. Not without an alpha’s sweet pheromones and their even sweeter knot to dilate against the glands and stop the shrieking need completely. He rolled onto his hands and knees and shook, shouting, arching his back, shoving his ass out, and senselessly seeking what wasn’t there. Needing it.
And then the mind-numbing pain descended, crashing down on him like a fiery wave, sucking him under, reducing him to sweat and tears. Making him submit.
“Miner!” Father’s voiceechoed through the front hallway and Jason nearly wept with relief.
“We’re in the conservatory!” Jason yelled. His arms never left his pater’s writhing body, trying to hold him together as he bucked and fought whatever was happening inside.
Earlier, the blood had become too great and Jason had stripped his pater of pants, covered him with towels, and tried not to scream in helplessness. He’d considered running into the street or banging on neighbors doors for help, but Urho was on his way and he couldn’t bring himself to leave his pater, and what could the neighbors do for him anyway?
Father’s face was pale as snow and his blue eyes burned as he entered the room and raced to Miner, shoving Jason aside to wrap his arms around him. “Miner? Can you hear me?”
