Page 196 of Broken Bonds

Damn, if that isn’t the most powerful feeling in the world, I don’t know what is.

Chapter Seventy-Five

Mal

Anticipation

With the orgasm restriction lifted, my libido finally levels out after a week or two. Although one of my favorite things becomes talking Todd into bending me over my office desk and fucking me. Whether it’s because he really does have a magick dick, or my hormones are causing it, he fucks an orgasm out of me almost every time without even touching my dick.

He spends plenty of time touching my dick, though, and swallowing it, and having me fuck him—pretty much the entire sexual menu. Although as busy as he is helping with the refugees and running the ranch, we haven’t found time to have our sexy run.

Almost ten weeks in, and I suffer barely any nausea, thank the Goddess.

Except I increasingly wonder if Bad Timing—or BeetleBug, as Todd’s dubbed her—might not be an elk shifter because I’m already showing.

Like, I’m obviously showing.

If I wear one of my normal T-shirts and I’m standing, you can’t miss my baby bump, mostly because it’s incongruous to my build. If I wear one of Todd’s shirts, which hangs off me, it’s almost disguised.

It’s disorienting standing sideways in front of the mirror and resting my hand on the swell of my belly.

Any time Todd catches me doing that he slides in behind me and wraps his arms around me, laying his hands over mine while wearing the goofiest damned grin ever.

It’s fricking adorable.

Shawn’s already showing, too, far more than I am, but he’s carrying twins, so that’s understandable.

The poor guy’s also having daily morning sickness, which I do not envy.

If BT is this large now, I can’t imagine what I’ll look like by the time she’s full term.

Pavin—who says it’s okay if I want to call him Dad, too—has been a wealth of information about all of…this. Maybe even more than Dr. Williams, since Pavin’s actually given birth six times.

Pavin also confirmed I’ll probably become so unbearably horny the last couple of weeks before the baby’s ready to be born that I’ll do anything for relief, and Todd will likely want to prepare to take a couple of weeks off from work to help me through that. In addition to the time off he planned to take after she arrives.

Despite my low-key terror, it’s also fascinating because Shawn and I are the first two pregnant male omegas I’ve ever seen in person.

And because of the ongoing and as of yet unresolved security situation, I rarely leave the ranch, except for doctor appointments, spending time at Shawn and Jax’s, visiting with Mike and Pavin, Alizée, and going to the store or out to eat with Todd. I darn sure don’t want to drive anywhere by myself outside the compound. The main reason being, Goddess forbid, something happens and I get pulled over. No telling where I might end up. If my father used his pull to have something put into the system like a missing person report or pressed fake charges against me, then I’m dead.

And so is my baby.

Meaning Todd likely would be dead, too, because I know he’d fight to the death to save me and our baby.

The larger I get, the less likely I’ll want to leave the safety of the ranch and compound. I don’t give a shit what others think about me being pregnant in public, but until my father’s dead, I know I have to lay low.

The refugees are still in residence. Except as detailed information about what happened to them makes the rounds of the pack, more people have stepped up to help with sentry duty, babysitting to give the familiars and mates a chance to take time for themselves, and there’s a huge security fence now surrounding the entire rec center property so the kids can go outside and use the pool and playground, day or night, and not be stuck inside all the time. They also hold movie nights outside every couple of days as long as the weather’s nice, using the rec center wall for the screen.

The adults also get to take trips—with security—to town, the store, and other “normal” activities to try to help them. Iris is there helping nearly every day, one of the increasingly growing list of pack volunteers allowed to freely come and go from the rec center.

Alizée is in charge of the on-site operations from a logistics standpoint, working closely with Chaz and Kennedy for security. Three weeks ago, they started allowing small groups of the kids to take hikes in the pack compound’s park, usually at night. But they take no more than five at a time, and there’s at least one armed sentry per child, if not more. Sometimes, familiars or parents accompany them as well.

It sucks to have the restrictions, but at least the kids are starting to feel safer knowing the pack is dedicated to their safety. And Alizée trailered two horses to the pack compound. She’d moved them to a friend’s property in north Florida for their safety. She’s boarding them here in a pasture close to the house and frequently takes the kids out one at a time for trail rides, with armed escorts. One of the horses, a bay quarter horse gelding named Costco, is a cattle cutting horse. She gives lessons to the older kids who want to learn. She has three more horses, and Todd welcomed her to transport them here because we have plenty of room. Someone’s bringing them next week.

I won’t lie and say I’m not glad about that, because I’m hoping it means she’ll stay after all…this. I’m not allowed to ride, unfortunately, but I have fun petting them, grooming them, watching her give lessons, and being able to enjoy my life. We never had pets growing up. I was never allowed to go riding because my father doesn’t like horses.

Then again, maybe it’s more horses don’t like him. That wouldn’t shock me.

In fact, I remember one incident when I was seven or eight. Mom took me to one of those small pop-up carnivals that make the rounds. They had a pony ride, and Mom paid for me to take several turns. I was in heaven.