Breeding Clinic (Heatverse)

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

MATTHEW

I pull the oven open for the eighth time in twenty minutes to make sure the cheese is melting properly. As if it’s possible that cheese won’t melt in a hot oven. I’m nervous. I want this dinner to go well.

This woman is carrying my baby, and while Liam says he’s reasonably sure it’s all a done deal, I’m not so convinced. Seven months is a long time. Long enough for her to change her mind. And while my dad says we have a good legal leg to stand on thanks to Liam’s smooth-brained rutting alpha idiocy, this is our baby. I don’t want to spend months or years locked in a legal custody battle.

When the lust and pheromones fade, will she resent us? Regret this? This woman will be in our lives for the next eighteen years at a minimum. What if we’re not the pack she always dreamed of? I read that alphas and omegas form attachment through touch and sex and the exchange of fluids. Some evolutionary heat-rut byproduct from the ancient days when they bonded before they knew one another. But I don’t think I could force myself to fuck her if I don’t like her. That’ s not how I’m wired.

“You’re letting the heat out,” Gabriel says with a knowing glance. “It’ll cook faster if you close the door.”

I close the oven and make myself busy with the broccolini. I blanched it in advance, and now I’m drying it off so it’ll get a nice char. “I want everything to be perfect.”

“It will, meu amor .” Gabriel bends down and kisses my cheek. “She’ll love dinner. And she’ll love you.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re… you.” I wave a hand up and down his torso.

“What does that mean?” Gabriel puts his palm on his chest like he’s actually confused.

I sigh with exasperation. “You understand exactly what I’m talking about. You’re tall, fit, good looking, and you’re exaggerating your accent on purpose because you know people love that shit. You immigrated here when you were five. You don’t have an accent when you speak English unless you want to.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Gabriel pulls a bottle of white wine from the rack. “What wine should we pair with macaroni and cheese?”

I snatch the wine from his hands and put it back. “She’s pregnant, remember? She can’t have wine.”

He looks offended. “A small taste is okay. It’s not like I’d encourage her to get drunk.”

I shake my head and check on the mac and cheese again. It’s bubbling nicely. When it’s done, I’ll broil a cracker topping with some butter. “Didn’t you read any of the books Liam bought?”

Gabriel pours himself a glass of water instead. “I did. It was very dirty. I loved it.”

“What? No. Not that book. The pregnancy ones. Didn’t you do an OB rotation in school?”

He leans against the counter, drinking his water. He shudders. “I try not to remember that rotation.” Gabriel grabs me by my shirt, wrinkling it as he tugs me against him. He kisses me, then stares into my eyes. “She’ll love you. Like I do. Just be yourself.”

That’s what I’m worried about. I’m not flirty like Liam and Gabriel are. I have to spend a lot of time with someone and like them before I grow those sort of feelings or interest. That’s never bothered me until now. Because we’re in a time crunch.

What if platonic isn’t good enough? Omegas and alphas usually have high sex drives. That’s why more often than not, they end up in packs. Gabriel is happy to help out, but me? I don’t know. I don’t know her . I’ve never even seen her.

There’s a knock on the door, and Gabriel goes to answer it while I panic and hide in the kitchen.

“Come in. Dinner’s almost ready,” Gabriel says, playing host. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Water is fine,” she says.

Gabriel comes into the kitchen to get her a glass of ice water, and Kat follows him, looking around. She spots me and gives me an awkward smile.

I knew it. I told them this was weird. I said we should have gone to a restaurant. Somewhere neutral.

“Hi,” she says, pulling her long hair to one side. “I’m Kat. You must be Matthew.”

“I am. It’s nice to meet you.” I try to shake her hand, but realize that I left my oven mitt on. Embarrassed, I pull it off and try again. “Oh, sorry. I was cooking.”

“Well, it smells great, so thank you.” She shakes my hand once and lets it drop.

“Thank you. I was happy for the excuse to try a new recipe.”

Her smile becomes more genuine and some of my worry eases. They were right. She’s nice .

“It still needs about twenty minutes before it’s ready,” I tell her.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asks.

I don’t particularly want her in my kitchen. It’s small. But I can’t say no. “Want to help me cook the broccolini? I blanched them, but they still have to cook in the cast iron pan.”

She steps up beside me and watches my movements. I put our heavy cast iron skillet onto a burner, then turn it up on high and heat up some grapeseed oil. Once it’s hot, I add the broccolini and give her a spatula. “Spread them out so they’re not clumped together. Let them get a good sear until they blacken. I’ll grab the salt and pepper for you.”

Kat uses the spatula to move the broccolini around while I set the salt and pepper grinder out for her to season them. “Liam said you were a good cook.”

He did? I wonder what else he’s told her about us. “I like it so long as someone else does the dishes.”

“Do you do most of the cooking?” she asks.

“Don’t let him lie to you,” Gabriel says, coming back to the kitchen. “I cook too. You have to try my p?o de queijo .”

“What’s that?” she asks.

Gabriel joins us in the kitchen and leans against the sink, out of the way. “A chewy Brazilian bread made from tapioca flour and cheese.”

“That sounds really good,” she agrees.

“I told you she would like Brazilian food.” Gabriel looks her up and down, then winks. “I had a feeling she had good taste.”

A light blush stains her cheeks and she focuses on turning the broccolini over to sear the other side. “I can’t stomach anything but carbs right now,” she says. “Eating every couple of hours helps. Big meals make me sick. But I can’t complain too much. The nausea is a good sign, and it’ll get better in the second trimester.”

“Do you like wine?” Gabriel asks. He ignores my subtle expression telling him to stop .

“Normally, yeah,” she answers. “Every once in a while.”

“What sort of wine would you pair with mac and cheese?” Gabriel asks.

“I guess it would depend on the cheese?” She looks to me for help.

“There are six,” I answer. “Sharp and mild cheddar, monterey jack, shaved provolone, parmesan, and cubes of gouda.” The cheese alone was a hundred dollars from the bougie grocer down the street. But I like shopping locally when I can. And it was too short notice to go to a farmer’s market. Also, if I’m honest, I wanted to impress her.

“Maybe a chardonnay,” she says.

“Excellent.” Gabriel finds a bottle of chardonnay from our rack and searches through the junk drawer for our bottle opener.

The oven beeps and I ask her to step aside for a moment so I can pull the mac and cheese out to do the topping. I crushed the cracker and herb mixture in advance. While the butter melts, I sprinkle the topping on. When that’s done, I pour the melted butter all over and put it under the broiler to crisp. I glance at the broccolini and decide it’s cooked enough to start the plating.

“That looks done to me. Let’s get it off the heat,” I tell her.

“Okay.” She reaches for the handle, and I realize too late that she doesn’t expect it to be hot. She must be used to nonstick pans where the handles don’t heat up. “Fuck! Oww.”

“Are you okay?” I grab her wrist to look at her hand. There’s a red mark, but it’s not bad. Not yet. “We should put some ice on that.”

“Not ice,” Gabriel says, intervening to peer at her burn. “It’ll make it blister. Let’s stick your hand under cool water.” He brings her over to the sink and puts her hand under the cool tap.

“I’m ruining dinner. I’m sorry,” she says while I take over the food prep and Gabriel tends to her injury.

“This little thing?” he says, pulling her hand out of the cool water to inspect it. “Hmm. No, you’re right. We might have to amputate,” he deadpans.

I glance over my shoulder at him, horrified, but she laughs. “You’re kind of ridiculous.”

“See?” Gabriel says, putting her hand back under the water. “You get us so well already.” He winks at her. “I’ll set the table.”

He grabs a stack of plates from the cabinet and goes to set the dining table. We cleared it off and I put a tablecloth and fresh flowers on it this morning before work.

The front door closes and Liam calls out that he’s home. “In here,” I answer.

He comes into the kitchen. “Well, this is a pretty sight. And that’s a lovely smell. Hello, handsome,” he says, prowling toward me and pulling me in for a kiss. “Hello, beautiful.” He does the same to Kat.

After he pulls away and says he’s going to change out of his work clothes for dinner, she glances at me shyly. As if checking to make sure that everything’s okay. I like that.

I smile at her and nod to the drawer to her left. “The silverware is in there if you don’t mind taking to the dining room.”

“Of course.” She turns the tap off, dries her hand, then gathers up four sets of knives, forks, and spoons. Kat takes them to the dining table, and I hear her and Gabriel talk in low voices.

I take the macaroni and cheese out of the oven, turn it off, and transfer the broccolini to a nicer dish. Carefully I take both out to the table and set them on two wooden trivets next to a basket of fresh sliced bread. I got it from the bakery down the street. I get the crock of butter from the fridge and put that next to the bread.

“Are you sure?” Gabriel asks, holding the bottle of wine and a wine glass up.

Kat waves him away from her seat. “No, I’m fine with water. But don’t let me stop you.”

I like that too. She’s easygoing.

More at ease now, I slide into my seat and give into Gabriel’s insistence that he pours me a glass. He sets down filled wine glasses for him and Liam too. Liam joins us. He’s changed into slacks and a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up. He takes his position at the head, then takes the first scoop of dinner, loading up his plate.

“How was work?” he asks me.

I tell him about the new person they hired at the bank. They start next week for training. Gabriel catches us up on some of the latest drama at the hospital. One of the overnight staff got caught sleeping in a supply closet.

Liam passes the serving spoon to Gabriel. We all take turns filling our plates. Once we’ve all been served, Kat looks between us. “Did you want to say grace?” she asks.

“Hmm?” Liam looks up from his forkful of mac and cheese. “Do you want to?”

“Didn’t you say you’re Catholic?” she asks.

Gabriel snorts and raises his glass of wine to his lips. “He goes to church twice a year. On Easter and Christmas.”

Liam gives him an unamused expression. “And weddings and funerals. I don’t have to kneel in a church to believe in God.”

“He’s a lapsed Catholic,” I explain, seeing her confusion. “His parents were very religious. We don’t see them very often. They moved far away and… well, they had a hard time with the mated to men thing.”

“Oh.” Her brow furrows. “I’m sorry.”

Liam shrugs it off and chews his food. “It took time for them to come around, but they’re fine now. Especially with…”

With the baby on the way.

The mood in the room shifts a little as Liam puts his foot in his mouth.

“Mmm.” Kat stabs her fork into her mac and cheese and takes a bite, chewing slowly. “This is amazing.”

I give her a smile and hand her the bread basket. “I’m glad you like it. Thank you for helping.”

She pushes her broccolini around on her plate. “I’m not sure I helped much, but thanks for letting me. I like to bake more than cook.”

“Oh?” I arch a brow in interest and lean toward her. “What do you like to make?”

“We’ve lost them,” Gabriel says to Liam, trying to steal the attention. “They’ll be talking about yeast for hours.”

“Ignore him,” I say. “He’s jealous because he burns everything that’s not breakfast or Brazilian food his mom taught him to make.”

“That shepherd’s pie was delicious, thank you,” he says, acting offended.

I rise to the bait. This is a familiar old squabble. “There were eggshells in it. There aren’t even supposed to be any eggs in shepherd’s pie.”

“The egg yolk in the mashed potatoes makes it brown better,” he argues.

“Ignore him,” I tell her. “Just talk over him. It’s the only way you get a word in sometimes.”

“Normal things, I guess,” she says. “Cookies, cakes, brownies, that sort of thing. Although I did go through a bad spell and got really into making bread after my… after I went through a tough time. I even tried to make my own sourdough starter, but it’s a lot harder than it seems.”

“See?” Gabriel says, talking to Liam. “Yeast.”

“Shh. I want to hear this,” Liam says.

“Bread is really difficult to get right,” I say. “There’s a lot of chemistry and science involved. Cooking is generally easier than baking,” I agree with her.

We spend the rest of the dinner chatting and eating. Once we’re done, Liam suggests a movie. It’s a tactical move we talked about in advance. Our couch is big enough for three people, but not as comfortable for four. That means we’ll get to touch her. He says that’s really important for omegas who like small, enclosed spaces and pack piles.

“What kind of movies do you like?” he asks, bringing up one of our streaming services.

“I’m not picky,” she says. “I’ll watch almost anything.”

“How about this one?” Liam pulls up a thriller. It’s the psychological kind, not the gory chainsaw kind. “I heard the reviews were good and it’s new.”

“Sure.”

We sit on the couch. Liam takes an end seat, putting her between him and Gabriel. He knows I don’t always like to be touched by people I don’t know well. I take the chaise portion, settling myself against Gabriel’s leg.

Ten minutes into the movie, Liam’s omega seduction plan falls apart. Kat falls asleep, her head on his shoulder and her sock-covered feet tucked under Gabriel’s thigh. It’s cute. And then Kat begins to softly snore. The cuteness factor drops a smidge.

We sit through the movie anyway, scared to move or turn the movie off and wake her. The pregnancy must make her tired. I read that fatigue is really common in the beginning .

The movie is good, but I predict the twist about halfway through and lose interest. Instead, I turn on my side and study her. The mother of my child. She’s pretty. Liam’s gorgeous. Our baby is going to be adorable.

Liam plays with her hair, moving it out of her face. It’s an excuse to touch her, really. He’s already feeling possessive.

And because I’m staring up at her, I see what they don’t.

Old healed pack marks bitten into the side of her neck.

Our omega’s been claimed before.