Page 124 of Abel's Omega

“I’m gapping,” I told him.

“That’s good. How long do you usually take after?”

“Not long. Maybe an hour?”

Abel broke in. “Gapping?”

I took his hand and ran it over my belly until he could feel the opening.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, his eyes wide. “Is that…?”

I leaned over and whispered in his ear. “That’s that omega line that you like so much. The baby’s going to be here soon.” I leaned back just in time. Another contraction came, hard and fast, and I watched as my stomach tented up into a hard ball under the blanket. Sweat broke out at my hairline and under my arms, and I pushed the blanket away, suddenly too warm. Abel sat up and leaned toward me, encouraging me in my labor, but I could barely hear him over the clamor of my body.

It went on longer this time, and a trickle of blood seeped down between my legs. I put a hand on Abel’s cheek and kissed him, then lay back to prepare for the next one.

When it came, it opened me wide and then there was gush of fluid, the baby waters, and from that point on, it was one long contraction. Or at least it felt like one.

Cale and Abel supported me, holding my weight and wiping the sweat from my face with a damp facecloth. Holland came back with the towels, laying one over my belly, another against my gaping omega line. The heat felt good, soothing some of the ache, and then the contraction grew stronger again. I grunted and breathed when Jason reminded me to, and squeezed Abel’s fingers tightly.

All of a sudden, between one moment and the next, I felt everything move down. My belly went from round to pear-shaped and I felt a stretching sensation where my omega line stretched to make way for the baby.

“I can see the head,” Holland said, and tucked the towel down between my legs.

“You’re doing fine,” Abel told me. “You’re so brave. Come on.” He kissed the top of my head and laid his hand against the back of my neck.

I laughed breathlessly and pushed with the next one, and the one after that, and the one after that. My belly stretched and then Holland was yelling, “Here come the shoulders!” and then with a rush and slither, the baby landed in Holland’s hands.

CHAPTER NINETY

Holland laid the baby face down on my chest while we waited for the afterbirth. I stroked his head—it was a boy, I’d seen that much, and big—and whispered a soft hello to him while he wailed his distress at leaving his warm, comfortable home.

“Is he okay?” Abel asked. He leaned forward, reaching tentatively toward the baby as if he was afraid to touch him.

“Ten fingers and ten toes,” I said giddily, and spared an arm to coax my mate down for a celebratory kiss.

He laughed against my lips, then pulled away to look at our son again. “He’s gorgeous.”

“He is.” I made soothing noises at the baby and stroked him gently until his cries died off.

“Here,” Jason said. “Let’s start cleaning him up.” He perched on the edge of the bed and set a bowl of warm water on his knee. Carefully, he began wiping away all the messy signs of birth, working his way from the baby’s head to his feet.

I felt the afterbirth come out and moments later Holland had cleaned me up and was wrapping a length of bandage around my hips.

“We need to turn him over and cut the cord,” Jason said.

The baby fussed a little as we moved him and then I saw something that made my heart sink. I’d been so sure—he’d grown so fast, and been so active…

He had an omega line.

Jason’s hand paused in its gentle cleaning, and I could see him looking at the mark on the baby’s belly. He pulled himself together with an obvious effort and tied off the cord, while I tried to come to terms with this sudden change. Holland handed over a pair of scissors and as soon as the cord was cut, he gathered up the afterbirth in a towel and took it out of the room.

“Is something wrong?” Abel asked in a tense voice. He reached for the baby, this time running his fingers over the thick cap of dark hair.

I put a hand to my mouth, then reached for Abel. “I’m so sorry, Abel.”

“Sorry for what? Is he sick? He looks healthy.” Now Abel sounded truly worried.

“No, he’s healthy, but—” I hated having to say it. “He’s omega. I’m sorry.” I bowed my head and stroked my baby’s back.