Page 5 of Bitter Heat
“Pater is in the kitchen,” the omega said, not looking away as though Janus were a predator, and he or his bird, the prey. “Downstairs.”
Janus shivered. The omega’s voice was unlike anything Janus had ever heard before. It was dark and rough, and yet barely louder than a whisper. The man stared at him in silence, offering nothing more. Not even his name.
“Right. I’ll just…” Janus jerked his thumb behind him toward the stairs. “Forgive me.”
The man went on staring at him. A wisp of ripe berry scent and musk, coupled with evergreen from the trees, came to Janus on the next draft from the window.
How he wished to be the old Janus then. The one who’d had no sense of when to stop and didn’t much care if he offended. The one who’d sweet-talked and finagled his way into many an omega’s bed, if not their actual affections—and contracted omegas at that!
Not that he wanted in this man’s bed or affections. But the old Janus would have known how to make him smile. Make him offer his name. Make him shake hands like a sensible human being with manners.
But the old Janus was dead, burned up in a series of fevers and one great disappointment. Now he was too skinny, too tired, and definitely too out of his depths to try to charm a man who didn’t care to indulge in any social graces at all.
He backed away and then turned to go downstairs to the kitchen, his heart hammering wildly. He licked his lips, trying to find a taste of that tantalizing scent.
Anxiety raced through him as if he’d encountered a ghost, instead of just a young man with a pretty pet bird.
CHAPTER TWO
Trying to ignorethe strange alpha’s pheromones that had flooded into his bedroom and lingered, Kerry stroked Kiwi, so named in honor of the tropical fruit he’d first tasted during his bonding-moon trip with Wilbet. He kissed the bird’s head and sighed, memories creeping to the surface of his mind.
Not all couples took bonding-moon journeys after contracting, but Wilbet had insisted, and Kerry hadn’t argued. He’d always wanted to see the world, and he’d been eager to start. The fact that he’d landed an alpha with the means to provide the wild extravagance of traveling for a whole month to exotic destinations he’d only ever seen in pictures had puffed him with pride and exaltation. When he’d first left Hud’s Basin to attend Mont Juror in the city, he’d dreamed of leaving his mountain-bound life behind, and during the first few weeks of his bonding-moon trip with Wilbet, he’d been so proud of how very much he’d succeeded at that.
They’d sailed south toward the islands on the Monhundys’ fancy yacht, fucking and cuddling, eating and drinking, reading and napping before they docked at Saturnalie Island. The warmth of the southern sun and the blue of the vast sea had filled him with relaxation and awe. Upon seeing the green, leafy island surrounded by lacy waves and stunning views, he’d turned to Wilbet, excited and so happy that he’d counted himself almost in love. Kissing him, Kerry had said, “Thank you, Wilbet. Wolf-god, I never want to forget how I feel right now. So grateful. So full of joy.”
Wilbet had kissed him back, then taken his hand and led him onto the beach.
A few sun-soaked, happy hours later, he bought Kiwi as a gift from a local man in a hut by the edge of the sea. Again, Kerry had never been so happy. He felt sure that he’d learn to love Wilbet truly if given enough time.
It’d only been a week later when Wilbet had hurt him for the first time.
Kerry supposed, given everything that followed, Kiwi should be an awful reminder of all that he’d endured and lost, but he wasn’t. Colorful, inquisitive, and sweet, Kiwi could never be anything but pure and perfect. Kerry loved his sweet little face, and how he danced around with innocent pleasure, chirruping cheerfully, and shivering his wings. All utterly unknowing of the predicament they were in. Kerry put his hand on his still-flat stomach. The predicament all three of them were in.
Gazing out the window and looking down toward the lake with the water glittering pink and coral with the setting sun, Kerry considered the future. His pater had said nothing as the evidence mounted over the prior three weeks, indicating that the last forced visit to the prison had produced the anticipated end result.
Kerry didn’t know if Pater was in denial or if it was his infinite patience that kept him quiet. There were four more months to get through. So much could go wrong with any pregnancy for any omega; everyone knew that.
But Kerry’s inherited deformity—the same one that his birth pater, Ranz, had been born with—didn’t make the odds of a safe and healthy delivery any better. There was some speculation that the deformity was in part why Ranz hadn’t survived the delivery of Kerry’s brother. Stroking Kiwi’s feathers, he thought about the only photo he had of himself with his birth-pater. In it, he was just a bare-kneed toddler, leaning against Ranz’s side, one hand on his swelling belly. The baby hadn’t lived either, born too early. Pater had named him Jack and put him in the grave with Ranz.
Kerry shuddered and closed his eyes. That’s when his father had left, too. Off to find another omega to make a family with, happily leaving Kerry behind. According to the argument Kerry had overheard, his father had no use for an omega son. Truth be told, if his parents hadn’t met when an unmatched Ranz was on the verge of being heat-struck and made Kerry in the aftermath, he wasn’t sure his parents would have even been friends. Such had been the sorry state of their relationship. Anger, yelling, the occasional punch thrown from both sides. That had been his earliest impression of the alpha and omega dynamics, which was perhaps why he hadn’t seen the red flags waving all over the place before contracting with Wilbet.
He touched his sunken chest. Had it really played a part in Jack coming early and Ranz’s death? Pater thought so, but who knew for sure? Those were all issues Pater had brought up before they signed the breeding contracts with Wilbet. Pater had given all his warnings in advance, and now, wolf-god bless him, he seemed ready to accept whatever came next. Just like he’d already accepted everything else—Kerry as his adopted son, Kerry’s rejection of Hud’s Basin, and his move to the city. And then Kerry’s contract with the Monhundys, Wilbet’s arrest, and Kerry’s shameful return home. And now…this. His fingers caressed his stomach again.
Kerry chewed on his bottom lip, letting Kiwi prance from his palm to his forearm, then over his bicep to his shoulder. The setting sun burst between a ridge and mountain, making the lake shine like a flashlight, stunning Kerry’s eyes. He squinted them shut, purple and blue dots dancing on the black beneath his lids.
No matter what happened, his pater was always there with open arms, never uttering so much as a single “I told you so” or word of disapproval. Kerry didn’t know if he’d personally be able to hold back the same way if his child made so many mistakes. He clenched his fist against his stomach, nausea welling up as a shudder of loathing wracked him. If this child was his chance to see how unconditionally he could love someone, he had already failed. He couldn’t even forgive this baby for being of Wilbet Monhundy’s seed. Loving him seemed an impossibility.
The fact was, if he lost this child or his own life in the process of delivering him, Kerry wouldn’t mind as much as he should. His deformity and fears about what it might mean for his chances had made him less than discriminating when courted at Philia soirees, but it could still be his salvation now.
The scent of pot pie drifted up the stairs, hearty and filling. The delicious, creamy scent reminded Kerry of the winter months just past. The boarding house had hosted twoÉrosgápesets of wealthy city dwellers trying to outrun the latest flu epidemic. Zeke had put them in the upstairs rooms with adjoining baths. Single betas—cousins vacationing together—had occupied the three downstairs rooms and shared the bath on the hall. Monk’s House hadn’t reached its capacity, but they’d been busy enough, and Kerry hadn’t minded it. The work had kept his mind off his then-impending heat, and he’d enjoyed the readings and performances put on by two of the beta boarders for everyone’s post-supper entertainment.
Summer, though, loomed ahead with no guest booked at all. Aside from this annoying alpha who smelled like sweet roses and lemon with a hint of pine. The lack of boarders was likely his pater’s subtle way of acknowledging the upcoming months of rapid physical expansion, along with the frustrating arousal and vulnerability that often came along with it.
Not to mention the inevitable birth due at the end of the summer. If it was Pater’s way of giving Kerry the peace and quiet to accept and cope with his fate, it was lucky that Wilbet’s parents, the Monhundys, made sure there was plenty of money to make ends meet whenever Kerry stayed at Hud’s Basin. Additional boarders weren’t necessary for their survival. It was one of the only good things Kerry still found in his contract.
Kerry’s only unselfish motivation when leaving Hud’s Basin for “something better,” had been the hope of contracting with an alpha of enough wealth to back his pater’s future. He’d been arrogant and young enough at the time to think that escape was his only option for a good life. He hadn’t wanted to end up tied to any of the local young alphas, rutting out of desperation when his heats began, and forced into a hard life on the mountainside, bearing children from a young age and never having more than a pot to piss in.
So, he’d gone to the city, started heat suppressants, and attended Mont Juror. It was only after failing to match with anÉrosgápemate that he’d gone on to the Philia soirees, determined to contract with an alpha of means to further distance himself from the life he was ashamed of in his backwoods home. He’d met Wilbet at one such party.
