The Omega Complication

By: Wolf Specter

(M_M Gay Shifter Mpreg Romance)



“I find it dangerous to think when it comes to you,” he said. He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. The movement drew my attention to a quick fluttering at the base of his neck. His quickening pulse was the only thing that gave him away.

I took another step to him. “And why is that?”

The fiery anger in me shifted and was replaced with a different kind of heat in the pit of my stomach. Hayes’ eyes darkened in response. He closed the remaining distance between us, and we stood toe-to-toe. Every moment he stood there, my self-control fractured, and the thoughts that told me we shouldn’t be together quieted in the crushing reality of his presence.

“Because…” he trailed off. His fingers twitched like he didn’t quite know what to do with them, and I knew he felt this, too. Hayes left his thought unfinished.

“Hayes Kensington at a loss for words,” I said with a soft laugh. “Mark the date.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking then, asshole, if it’s so goddamned easy.” His tongue snaked out and traced his lower lip.

I groaned. “I think—I think if you lick your fucking lip one more time, I’m going to ignore every glaring red flag telling me I shouldn’t do what I’ve wanted to do since just about the first moment we met. And what I’m this close to doing now.”

“What’s that?” Hayes said, his voice soft. The ghost of the smirk returned, and with his eyes locked on mine, he slowly traced his lower lip with his tongue.

“This.” I hooked my arm around the base of his neck and crushed him to me, my lips seizing his.

Hayes didn’t start or pull away. He leaned into the kiss like he had been waiting for it all along. His fingers twined in my hair, yanking me closer to him so he could press harder against my lips. The resulting burn at my scalp from his insistent tugging heightened the heat radiating between us.

There was no longer any safe or smart, right or wrong, logical or irrational. There was only Hayes and me, here and now, with the feel of his nose digging into my cheek in his haste to crush his lips to mine or the electricity that crackled on the pads of my fingertips when I touched him.





1





Charles





Sorry for your loss. The four simple words had lost all meaning in the past three hours that I stood here. A persistent little spasm had settled somewhere in the vicinity of my lower back close to an hour ago and had refused to leave. Formality demanded I ignore it, and I shook the next hand, letting the words wash over me.

Nearly every shifter in the pack had turned out to offer personal condolences. It was an empty gesture which did more to comfort them than it did to console me, but I had to suffer their good intentions all the same. The line continued to stretch out the door with no end in sight.

According to the funeral director, high-profile families typically did this sort of thing in shifts, as he had told me in a display of sympathy so over-the-top it could almost be mistaken for superiority. Maybe that wouldn’t have been so awful, but he neglected to mention what happened in the case of only one surviving family member. There was no way to split up shifts if there was no one else to share a shift with, leaving me a party of one for the wake receiving line.

“Oh, they look so natural, don’t they just, Carol dear?” an elderly woman whispered to her friend as they stood in front of the twin caskets. Carol clasped her hands in supplication and bobbed her head in agreement.

Natural. Like there was anything natural about a car crash. Especially when it came to shifters. Being pack alpha meant a sometimes violent, often chaotic existence. I had seen Dad, bruised and battered, in more than his fair share of fights. I still remembered him coming home after putting down Wade Hunter all those years ago. The war with Blue Mountain Pack had come to an end and Dad had brought back peace to the pack for the first time in living memory. It had been a victory like no other, but that was when I knew—his life would end short and bloody. I just hadn’t counted on a car crash.

Meanwhile some drunk human who hadn’t even known that he had taken out both the alpha and heir to the Silvertooth Harbor Pack in one unfortunate swerve walked free. Jameson was dead on impact, and Dad had succumbed days later in the hospital. My eyebrow twitched and my fist clenched at the thought. No, there was nothing natural about their deaths.

Top Books