Breeding Clinic (Heatverse)

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

KAT

The real estate agent unlocks the front door by punching a code into the lock box. She has dark brown skin, and her thick curls wave around her shoulders with a curly bang that frames her pretty face. Vibrant pink lipstick brings personality to the modest gray pantsuit that hugs her figure.

“This house was built in 1882, and it’s a Queen Anne-style Victorian,” she tells us. “The house has been tastefully upgraded over the century. A lot of the original trim has been restored, and the stained glass windows over the stairs are original too.”

The entryway takes my breath away. Dark, gleaming wood makes up a grand carpeted stair. The entrance has room for a wide hall tree for hats and coats and winter boots. The front room used to be the parlor, and the octagonal turret has been fitted with benches for reading. A Victorian fireplace with cast iron and porcelain tiles makes up the focus of the room.

“Are those operational?” I ask.

“They were retired in place for safety.” The agent shows us through the house, highlighting the amenities. “The first floor has the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, and the study was renovated into a main bedroom with a modern bathroom added. The upstairs has four bedrooms, a full bath, and a sitting area that you could use as a playroom. Or the attic can be converted into a living space as your pack grows.”

The baby makes herself known, and I rub my hand over her. She’s been more active since lunch.

“What does the house use for heat?” Liam asks.

“Oil and forced air,” the agent answers. “The furnace is in the basement. You’ll see small holes in the floors where the radiators were removed. They sell wood-colored plugs that you can insert to fill the gaps if they bother you. There’s no cooling system installed, but the ductwork is present if you plan to add central air.”

“This is the bedroom?” Gabriel asks.

The main bedroom is a good size, and the ceilings on the first floor are tall. Crown molding and a picture rail interrupt the patterned wallpaper.

Matthew runs his hand along the carved wooden door trim. “It’s like a dollhouse,” he says.

We tour the first floor bedroom and note the lack of good closet space. But the clawfoot garden tub in the bathroom more than makes up for it. We move onto the kitchen.

“Oh. My. God,” Matthew says, rubbing his hands over the smooth, marble countertops. “This kitchen is huge. And the island has a range? With outlets! Wait, is that a pantry?”

He moves about the kitchen, checking out the enormous fridge and double ovens. I stand at the farmhouse style double kitchen sink. You can see the side yard where a prime patch of level grass calls to me. The perfect spot for a vegetable and herb garden. I imagine washing dishes while the children play with the family dog. My heart clenches tight in my chest with yearning and bridled excitement.

“I’d like to see the oil tank and furnace,” Liam says, keeping us on track with the important things like utilities and safety.

The agent opens the door to the basement and flicks on the light. It’s not a bad basement. A bit too damp to finish without waterproofing. And the beams need a sweeping to get rid of spiderwebs. But the basement will be good enough for storage and a workout machine and Liam’s brewing equipment.

“Your laundry machines go here,” she says.

“What’s that?” Gabriel asks, pointing at the silver thing sticking out of the ceiling.

“A chute,” she answers. “A pipe that runs from the second floor to the basement. Your laundry collects in the basket you place underneath.”

That’s going to come in handy with four kids and all the dirty clothes they make.

“Want to see the upstairs?” she asks.

We follow her up the two flights of stairs to the second landing. It’s slightly less grand, the rooms smaller and the ceilings lower. The family quarters weren’t for visitors to see, so less money was put into the trim.

The bedroom with the octagonal turret will be an amazing princess room. Perfect for our baby girl. All of the children’s bedrooms share one bathroom, but the tub makes up for that. It’s deep with claw feet. A shower curtain on a ring is suspended from the ceiling.

“The attic stairs are here,” she says, pointing out a door I didn’t notice. They’re fixed stairs rather than a pull-down ladder. “The servants lived here,” she says. “The doctor who built this house kept a cook and a maid. The ceilings are tall enough that this space could be finished but it would need to be connected to your heating system first.”

I don’t know how they withstood the heat in the summer. It’s boiling hot. But the view of the woods from the large front window is stunning. It’s hard to believe that the edge of town is only a twenty-minute drive away. Out here, this house feels like we’re in our own little world. “This view is spectacular.”

“You should see the back,” the agent says. “Let me show you the porch and backyard.”

When we step outside, Liam wraps his arms around me from behind and squeezes me. We hang back while Matthew and Gabriel pepper the real estate agent with questions. Gabriel wants to know how far back the property line goes and how much fences cost while Matthew asks about the school system.

“Do you like the house?” I ask Liam, my heart catching in my throat.

“No.”

My stomach sinks. What’s wrong with it? Is it too far away? Too remote? Too old?

“I love the house.”

I let out my held breath and his hand drops lower, rubbing over my belly. I’m not far enough along yet for him to sense the baby moving but that doesn’t stop him from trying. I cup his hand with mine. “I love it too.”

“Are you sure about this? This is the first house we’ve looked at.”

It’s not the first house I’ve looked at. I’ve looked at twenty-seven houses. But it is the first one I’ve shown them. And that’s because I fell in love with this house the minute I saw it. This house and the life it represents is my dream come true. It makes me feel like a fairy tale princess. Like all the hardships I went through were necessary because they brought me here. To this moment right now. To this pack. And I want it all so badly it hurts.

“It’s your money so it’s your choice,” he says. “We’d be happy anywhere that we’re together.”

“Really?” I ask him, needing to be sure. Are we really going to make an offer today? This is a big choice. An enormous commitment. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t consider buying a house and moving in with someone after only a few months of knowing them. I knew Josh nearly my entire life before we decided to court. But nothing about my courtship with Liam and his pack has been normal. We’ve done everything backward.

Liam’s large callused hand rubs over my belly. “Pack isn’t a place or a home or a nest. It’s the people you love.” His voice is deep and rumbly in my ear. He kisses me on the temple. “Buy the house if you want to, Kat. We’ll follow you anywhere. You’re worth chasing after.”

My eyes mist with unshed tears, and I try to stop it but I can’t. Damn pregnancy hormones. The smallest things make me cry. I can’t watch a sad movie or an animal rescue commercial without bawling. I sniff, trying to pull back the tears, but it’s too late. I can’t stop them. They roll down my cheeks.

“Hey, shh, come here.” Liam turns me, tucking my head into his chest. He rubs his hands up and down my arms. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m… I’m so happy,” I choke out. Crying like this is frustrating. I hate the lack of control over my emotions.

“Aww, kitten.” Liam smiles, then bends down and kisses my tear-tracked cheeks. “Don’t cry. Want to go get ice cream after this?”

I’m pregnant and it’s ninety degrees outside. Of course I want ice cream. I’m growing a human. I’ve earned it. Besides, Gabriel’s gonna make me sweat it off tomorrow in the mommy-baby yoga class anyway. My thoughts are distracted long enough for the worst of the crying impulse to fade. I sniff and rub my sensitive eyes. “Yes.”

“Everything okay?” Matthew asks from across the yard, a hand raised to shield his eyes from the sun .

“Yeah!” Liam waves. “Put in the offer. Pending inspection, we’ll take the house.”

A half-hour later while I lick my melting ice cream, my mood is completely changed. Satisfied. This has been a whirlwind of a day. Anxious worrying. Elated house touring. The rush of putting in a bid on my dream house. Happy weeping. And now ice cream.

Gabriel and Matthew take turns sampling each other’s flavors. Liam steals a bite of mine when I’m not looking.

“Hey!” I jerk my ice cream away, careful not to lose the top scoop. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to steal ice cream from a pregnant woman?”

“I must have missed that day in health class.” Liam makes exaggerated movements like he’s going to steal another bite.

I twist, keeping my cone out of his reach. Ice cream melts down my hand, making a sticky mess of me. The powder-coated lattice metal seat sticks to my thighs where my dress rode up when I sat, keeping me from getting far.

“Is he bullying you?” Gabriel asks.

“He is!” I shout.

“It’s melting,” Liam says. “I was helping her finish.”

“Here.” Matthew hands me a stack of napkins to wipe the trails of chocolate off my hand before it can drip all over my dress.

“Thank you. See?” I give Liam a pointed look. “That’s how a gentleman behaves.”

Liam reaches behind me, grabs a handful of ass, and squeezes. “Must have missed that day of health class too.”

That one ass squeeze is enough to trip my mind from ice cream into dirty thoughts. It doesn’t take much to get me excited these days. And Liam likes to take advantage of that every time he can.

I glance around to see if anyone is watching. Most of the people crowded around the ice cream shop are hanging out on the shaded porch where you order. It was more crowded when we first got here. But the group of kids in baseball uniforms are gone now.

We ended up at the only table that was open, the one at the end of the gravel courtyard by the fenced-off trash. It doesn’t smell the greatest, which is probably why nobody else wants to sit back here.

Liam drops his hand onto my thigh, then drags it inward. He nudges, insistent. His fingers dig into my skin.

“Spread,” he orders.

My nipples tighten and I stiffen. “Here? Really?” Despite my protests, a wet spot forms in my panties.

Liam gets up and sits down sideways on the bench seat. His body cages me in, and his hand goes back to my thigh. Shoves his hand in between them, even though they’re clenched together. His thumb rubs my skin where my dress rides up my thighs.

He leans down close to my ear and makes a hungry sound. “I finished my ice cream and now I’m in the mood for a different kind of sweet treat. I’ve always liked cookies better anyway.”

I swallow. The wet spot in my panties gets bigger. “There are people here.”

“There are,” he agrees. “But they’re not paying attention to us. You’ll want to be quiet then. And fast. Can you do that for me, kitten?”

After a moment of hesitation, I give in. “I guess that depends on you.”

His grin shows a hint of alpha fang. “Is that a challenge?”

“It might be.”

I let my knees fall apart. He runs his fingers up my inner thighs. Ghosts them over my panties. Rubbing lightly. Then firmer. Tracing the seam of my sex through the thin excuse of fabric. My pussy’s wet and they stick to me, a damp spot growing until they’re slick. The way he rubs my mound leaves me aching.

“I’m always up for a challenge,” he says, stroking my clit again. “Let’s see how fast you can come and how quiet you can be.”

My ice cream melts, forgotten. He hooks my panties aside and touches me, finally. Skin to skin. I’m so wet. There’s no resistance as he presses the tip of his finger between my lips and strokes my clit.

“Mmm.” I bite off my moan and mash my lips together. It’s nearly impossible to stifle the sounds I want to make when he rubs my clit like that. With practiced, firm circles.

“What was that?” Liam asks, taunting me. “Did you say something?”

Matthew and Gabriel chuckle softly, still licking their ice cream while they watch and keep an eye on our surroundings. I glare at Liam, but all he does is smile with amusement and stroke my clit faster. Firmer. Adds another finger for wider coverage.

My breath comes out as a pant and my pussy throbs. I’m always close these days. Because of all the blood flow and pressure in my pelvis. I’ve never had such easy orgasms before. Pregnancy agrees with me.

Liam dips two fingers into my hole. Teasing me. Gathering up slick and spreading it over my clit. “Do you still have issues with my behavior?” he asks.

My hips itch to rock against his hand. I stifle the impulse. Stay still and quiet so we don’t get caught. The round metal picnic table isn’t opaque. There’s nothing to hide that his hand is under my dress if someone walks by and looks. “No.” He needs to hurry up and let me come. Before we get banned from my favorite ice cream shop or arrested for lewd behavior.

Gabriel and Matthew watch with amusement while they trade ice creams and Liam fingers me underneath the picnic table. There are people oblivious to what we’re doing fifty feet away. But they won’t be for long if I don’t stop moaning. I bite my lower lip to stifle the unruly sounds he finger fucks out of me. I can’t help it. He knows exactly how to touch me. How to work me up. How to make me come. And how to keep me on that edge, balanced without toppling over. Edging me.

“Liam,” I whine, trying so hard to be good. To be still and quiet. The need to come is unbearable. My fears of getting caught are gone. I don’t care who sees so long as he doesn’t stop. If he stops, I might die.

“That’s a good girl making all that sweet slick for me,” he says, his voice low.

The pressure building in my pelvis tightens. Close. Nearly there. Stay quiet.

He rubs me faster, making firm circles around my clit. Working quickly. Dipping his fingers down to curl them inside me. My soaked pussy makes sloppy wet sounds.

“Say please,” he orders.

My obedience is instantaneous. I would get on all fours with my ass in the air right now and let him mount me if he told me to. “Please.” The word comes out breathy. A slutty word moaned with desire.

He stops fingering my hole and focuses on my clit again. I’m so close.

My toes curl in my sandals and my thighs tense with the restrained urge to fuck myself on his hand. I can’t. We’ll get caught. People murmur, their conversations faint background noise as they move about. Talking and laughing. Car doors open and shut as more park. Oblivious to what Liam’s doing underneath my skirt around the corner.

“Are you gonna be good for your alpha and come?” he asks.

I nod. A whimper escapes me, and everything pulls tight. There’s a second of nothing. Of sheer torture. The calm before the storm. And then an orgasm rips through me. My cunt pulses against his hand, spasming on nothing. Empty and hungry for more. Always needy.

My hand tightens and the waffle cone crunches while I ride through the waves of aftershock. Cold ice cream smears down my hand, drips down my arm. The cone breaks completely, my ice cream dropping onto the picnic table. It’s nothing compared to the small river of slick coating his hand and my inner thighs. Soaking into the back of my dress. Dripping onto the bench.

I abandon my ruined waffle cone and curl my fingers through the metal lattice table while I ride his hand and the aftershocks of my orgasm, oblivious to our surroundings. All I care about are the pulses and tingles rippling through me. About my alpha’s hand wedged between my thighs and the pleasure he gives me.

Once I’m settled and panting, Liam pulls his hand free, scooping up as much slick as he can. He shoves his fingers past his lips and hums around his mouthful. “So sweet.” He purrs while he licks himself clean.

I press my knees together and fidget in damp panties on my seat. By the time my breathing is back under control, Matthew has my spilled ice cream cleaned up.

“Damn. I really wanted that,” I say.

“I’ll get you another one,” Gabriel says, getting out of his seat.

“In a cup,” Matthew suggests.

“Are you happy now?” I ask Liam. Grumpy now over my ruined ice cream .

Liam grins. “I’m not sorry that cookies are my favorite dessert. Wait until you try Matthew’s Christmas cookies. It’s a family recipe. They’re almost as good as your pussy.”

I mull over his comment the entire car ride home while I eat my ice cream in thoughtful silence. The pub is busy, and I say hi to the regulars who’ve come to know me. Liam pauses to answer someone’s question while we head upstairs. I clean up and change into fresh underwear. I go through them at an alarming rate around these men. Matthew pulls out his laptop to check his emails while Gabriel changes into his workout clothes.

“Going to the gym?” I ask him.

“I’m gonna get a run in before dinner. Work off that ice cream.” Gabriel leans over me on the couch and kisses me, then Matthew. He grabs his earbuds and heads out.

I drag a knitted throw over my legs and get cozy, then turn the TV on and flip channels, but nothing catches my attention. I’m still stuck on what Liam said.

Christmas… It’s only August. But December isn’t that far away now. Only a few months. The baby’s due mid-January. It hits me that this is my last Christmas before my life completely changes. Before all of ours do.

“What are we doing for Christmas?” I ask Matthew. With my old pack, we rotated whose family we spent the holidays with.

“Hmm? Oh. We usually rent a big ski chalet up in the mountains. Everyone comes, although Gabriel’s family don’t fly in from Brazil every single year. They’re saving their airfare for after the baby’s born. What about you? What does your family do?”

I turn down the volume on the TV while a home improvement show plays in the background. “They’d probably like a ski chalet, although I don’t think they’d actually want to go skiing. We always did a small dinner the night before, then presents in the morning, then a big family dinner with the rest of the family. Josh’s parents live next door to my parents so I got to see them half the time when the pack wasn’t visiting the other families.”

Matthew looks up from his typing. “Josh was your old alpha?”

“Yeah. We grew up next door to each other.” He was my first kiss. My first everything. And then he threw away all of our history when things got hard. My inability to move on was holding the pack back. Keeping them from moving on.

And he was right.

After I left, Josh had his best string of games. For the first time ever, I don’t have an emotional reaction when I remember it. No anger or hurt or resentment. Only the facts. It didn’t work out. That happens sometimes. Scent matches aren’t a guarantee you’ll live happily ever after.

The baby moves. As if reminding me that I have more important things to fixate on than old regrets. Tiny repeated pokes make a pattern on my right hip from the inside. It’s a strange sensation. What is she doing in there? I rub the spot.

“Is it the baby?” Matthew asks, looking at where I’m rubbing. “Can I feel?”

“Of course.”

Matthew puts his laptop aside and slides across the couch. I grab his hand and bring it to my belly. His touch is tentative and light. I push his hand down harder, right over the spot where she was moving .

“It might be too early still,” I warn him. The baby app on my phone says our baby girl is the size of a carrot.

The baby goes still, as if she’s shy. “Try talking to her,” I suggest.

“I could read a book to her. I downloaded some.”

The suggestion makes me smile. He looked up baby books? That’s so sweet. “Okay. Let’s get comfortable.” I put a pillow behind my head and slouch down, reclining. Matthew sprawls out between my legs, his head propped on my belly. He pulls out his phone and opens his reading app while I turn the subtitles on for the TV show I’m barely watching.

“Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do,” Matthew reads. “Once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, and what is the use of a book, thought Alice without pictures or conversations? ”

“Are you reading Alice in Wonderland ?” I ask, surprised.

“Yeah.” He tips his face up to look at me. “It’s my favorite book.”

I chuckle, my belly bouncing and his face along with it. “I thought you meant a baby book.”

Matthew frowns. “It is a kid’s book.”

“It took me by surprise, that’s all.”

He’s so earnest. It’s cute. I brush a curl out of his eyes. His hair’s getting long. He usually gets it trimmed by now. But we’ve been rather busy lately. He doesn’t seem to mind my affectionate petting. It’s the omega in me. I crave the exchange of scents. His weak beta scent gland in his neck has the highest concentration, but there are pheromones in our hair too.

“Okay,” I tell him. “I’m sorry I interrupted. Carry on.”

After a brief pause, he does. He reads the whole first chapter to our baby so she can learn his voice. And I half-watch the home design show. It’s a nest makeover show. When I notice that Matthew is glancing at it too, his attention to his book waning, I turn the volume up.

“Are you ready to see your dream nest?” the host asks the anxious blindfolded omega.

“Yes. I’m ready,” the omega answers.

“Then take your blindfold off in three… two… one!”

“Oh! Wow. How did you do that?” the omega says, excited.

They show a montage of the before and after. Before, the room was beige and bland. With big box store furniture that has to be put together with an allen wrench. Now it’s a mermaid lagoon.

Someone painted a mural on the walls and ceiling to make it look like an ocean at sunset. The carpet’s been pulled up and hardwood floors installed. The nest is half of a pirate ship, made to look like it’s been broken and drifted into a lagoon. It takes up nearly the entire bedroom. Mountains of soft, cozy blankets and jeweled pillows make the surface soft. Fake flowers and pillows that look like moss covered stones decorate the base of the ship nest. Netting decorates one of the walls. Seashells and a starfish are stuck in it haphazardly.

“Wow,” Matthew says. “That’s… something.”

“Horrible?” I suggest.

“Yeah, it’s bad. It’s like a teenage girl’s mood board threw up on a room.”

“I don’t know why anyone still goes on these shows. Their makeovers are obviously rage bait.”

“What kind of nest do you want?” he asks.

I blush. Because I have a mood board dream nest. I’ve made several over the years as my tastes change. But once I saw the house, I knew exactly what I wanted it to look like.

“I’ll show you.” I pull out my phone, somewhat nervous. What if they hate it? I haven’t had to share a space with someone and compromise on decor in years. Their house is traditional and cozy. My dream nest is… well, different.

I pull up the mood board I made and hand it to him so he can scroll. My heart thumps in my chest while I wait for his verdict.

“Wow. That’s not what I expected.”

“Too much?” I ask. It’s my nest, but I still want them to be comfortable in it.

“It’s darker than I assumed it would be. I like it.”

He hands the phone back to me, and I scroll through my saved images again. The mood board is full of dark, gleaming wood. Deep green or teal or sometimes black walls. Dark floral wallpapers. Big beds draped in rich velvets and satin, with four posters and a canopy to enclose it and make it cozy. Gallery walls covered in gilded framed paintings and one wall that’s nothing but shelves covered in books. Dark oriental rugs cover hardwood floors. When I saw our house’s dark wood trim and red chestnut-stained hardwood floors, I knew I wanted to highlight those. It would be criminal to paint all that gorgeous trim white.

“You don’t think the nest will be too dark?” he asks.

“The ceiling’s so tall and there are a lot of windows. And we’ll add accent lamps, of course. Maybe some fairy lights. Do you think they’ll like it?”

“It’s surprisingly not too feminine.”

The tension coiled in my body relaxes. “What, you expected a pink and glitter unicorn dreamland nest?”

His cheeks blush pink. “Something like that. I like it,” he adds. “You did a good job.”

His praise is nice. And I’m glad he likes my ideas. That eases some of my worries.

“We should go to Nested,” Matthew offers. “We can pick out most of our furniture somewhere else, but Nested has the best nests from what I read. They’ll probably have something like this.”

I raise my eyebrows. “We should probably close on the house first before picking out furniture.”

Matthew shrugs. “You’re paying cash so unless the inspection comes back with big red flags, you won’t have problems closing. Besides, there might be back orders.”

That’s a good point. And I’m excited to start furnishing our house. There’s going to be so much to do. Paint, hang up curtains, buy furniture, pack and then unpack, then set up a nursery. Moving is so much work. I’m already exhausted simply by planning it. And I’m grateful that this time I’ll have a pack to help.

Moving into my single omega house was bitter sweet. Moving into my dream pack house is already completely different. Exciting. Like the future is full of wonderful surprises.

Matthew sucks in a breath. His hand skims over my baby bump. “I think I felt her.”

“Really?”

The baby kicks again, and his eyes light up with wonder. He moves his hand around my belly, keeping track of her.

“Hi, baby,” he says, talking to my belly. “I can’t wait to tell Liam I was the first to feel you. He’s gonna be sooooo jealous.”

I smile and pet his curls while he talks to our baby, then goes back to reading to her from his book. Trying to get her to move again. We lie there like that, with me half-watching the nest makeover show, half-watching Matthew. It’s comfortable and intimate.