Page 25 of My Omega's Baby
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I feel protective of you now.” He glanced up and his gaze was puzzled. “I always knew you were an omega and I never really thought much about it. But now… I feel our roles so clearly.”
I bristled. “If you think I’m one of those weak omegas who need an alpha to watch over me, think again.”
“It’s not like that. I don’t think you’re feeble.”
“Good, because I’m not.” I’d been on my own since I was fifteen. I sure as hell didn’t need anyone stepping in now to look out for me.
He gave a gruff laugh. “These feelings aren’t logical. This is all probably instinctual.”
“Meaning what?”
“I’m forty. I’m the last of my line. There’s a lot of pressure on me to continue my line.”
“Okay. But how does that work when we’re both guys?”
He grimaced. “I don’t know. But it’s in my blood to mate with an omega and then protect that mate. And in the past you’d have wanted that. All the omegas needed an alpha to provide and keep them safe.”
“Says who?”
“My mom. I grew up hearing her stories about alphas and omegas coupling and staying together for the protection of the omega. Male and female.”
“Well, thank goodness that nonsense is past. How archaic.”
“Just because you think you don’t need anyone doesn’t mean everyone is that way. And it also doesn’t mean your way is best.”
I squinted at him. “Since when do you give a shit about needing someone?”
He frowned. “I’m not looking for it, but I’m not against it either.”
“Well, I am.” My stomach gave a sharp jab of pain and I winced.
“You okay?”
“Right as rain,” I lied. I felt like I needed to go puke some more, but I didn’t want to look like a wuss.
He twisted his lips as if he didn’t believe me, but he dropped it. “Have you ever had a serious relationship?”
My face felt warm as I struggled to answer honestly. “Not really.”
“Then how is it you’re so against them?”
“I just don’t feel the need.” My stomach growled ominously, and I shifted uneasily. “Besides, this job isn’t easy on anyone who likes to actually see their significant other.”
“True.”
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the back of the couch as I struggled with the nausea that had returned.
“You okay? You look a little green.”
I licked my lips. “I never get sick. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“That quiche you made last night was pretty bad.”
I scowled, but I kept my eyes closed. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious. It was terrible.” He sounded like he was holding back laughter.
