Page 273 of Alpha Mates

My irritation evaporates. Of all the things—“K-kids?” I stutter in disbelief.

“We know you’re both male,” he says evenly, “but you are alsobothalphas. You need to start looking into your options. It’s the last step.”

“The last step of what?”

“Solidifying your status as alphas,” he says this simply, without any discomfort or awkwardness, as though he’s just stating a matter of absolutely no consequence.

“We’re only eighteen,” I protest, and he scoffs.

“Do not try that. If Aiden were a girl, he’d already have a pup in him. You know how it works,” he says, his tone taking on a sharper edge now. “Kids are next, and you must plan the course.”

“Please stop,” I groan, shaking my head to try and clear the mental image of a pregnant female Aiden. “This is … ludicrous.”

My father’s eyes harden as draws his shoulders back. “It is the way of things.”

“The way of thingschanged the moment Aiden and I stood on that stage.”

“Not this,” he hisses through his teeth. “You need a child—someone to come after you. Someone to carry on our line. Aiden will be thinking the same, but it should be your babe first—”

“What?” I rasp, feeling as if the wind has been knocked out of me.

I heard him, loud and clear, but I want to believe that I haven’t.

“We’ve spoken about this, Julian,” he grits with frustration, and now he looks much more like the father who raised me. “You know why.”

A few months ago, the wholeluna-alphathing terrified me, but that was before Aiden and I marked each other, joined our two ancient packs, and still found our way back to each other after we fell apart. Before Aiden told me his story.

I’m his equal, I know that without a doubt in my mind, so this doesn’t touch me.

When I don’t answer, my father begins listing all the things that I “must” do, barely leaving room for himself to breathe. He talksatme, nottome, slipping so easily back into the skin of the man who kept me up all night as a boy, drilling me on everything an alpha should know, even when I was so tired.

The respectful tone slips away, taking with it any other masquerade. He rambles and he does it all with this palpable frustration, like he wishes he could just shake me—or take over my body and do it all himself.

It’s routine. Painfully so. And I don’t know why at first until I realise it’s because I’m viewing it from another perspective.

Yes. Before, I’d be standing off to the side somewhere, at the top of the stairs or behind some door. He’d been much the same, but he wouldn’t be talking to me. No, he’d be talking to Oliver.

Oliver, who always tried his best. Oliver, who was perfect on his own. Oliver, who always looked so tired.

How could I only now remember this? I’d seen it so many times, and yet … I’d forgotten. In my memories, they were always proud of him. Beaming. But now, in his place, I can so easily recall what it was like when they slipped from pride to disappointment.

They’d drained him just like this, and now they’re doing it to me.

“Okay,” I say, cutting off his rant.

He pauses, looking momentarily stunned. It resonates in his voice when he echoes, “Okay?”

I nod. “Okay. I’ll talk to Aiden about it.”

And there he is. The man in my memories. The one who smiled so brightly at Oliver, and only Oliver. He rises to the surface now, so quickly that I almost stagger back from the chill it sends down my spine.

“That’s my boy!” he praises, clapping a hand on my shoulder as he grins at me with… pride.

He’d done this to Oliver too, but I thought it’d been gifted freely. No, apparently, it’d come with a price.

Pleased, he leaves me with a smile on his face and an extra skip in his step. He’s likely racing home to tell Mother that he spoke to me and I, against all odds, saw reason.

He doesn’t realise that I only agreed to shut him up. He doesn’t know that it’s likely what Oliver did, too.