Page 9 of His Unicorn Alpha (Shifters Sanctuary #3)

I probably should have started with how many children we’re having, I thought to myself as Micah stared back at me with wide, almost terrified eyes.

His throat worked convulsively, and I felt guilty all over again for the situation I had put him in. However, I had just given in to the biological draw between us, to the incessant desire to press my body against his and taste his mouth, and I knew that to do even that much without him knowing the entire story had been wrong.

I tried to ignore the slick that threatened to leak from me at the lingering tingles on my lips. My omega railed inside me, wanting my mate’s long, elegant fingers digging into the soft flesh of my hips once more.

But to give in to those instincts without being completely honest had been a mistake. Everything I had done to this man had been a mistake.

When Micah had been an abstract stranger —a man disinterested in pack life— I had imagined that he was likely immature and vain. These past minutes talking to him had disabused me of that notion. Unfortunately, in doing so, it had only proven Beck and, to some extent, Eric to be correct.

My choice was unfair to Micah in every possible way imaginable.

“Three feels like a lot more than two,” he eventually managed, his voice sounding strained and marginally panicked.

This was the reaction I had anticipated. Still not as volatile, or as upset, but certainly more understandable than his original calm collectedness.

“I know,” I looked to my feet in a moment of weakness, needing to brace myself for the rejection which would hurt a hell of a lot more now that I knew what he tasted like. “I…I couldn’t bring myself to…to… reject even one of the embryos. They were too precious.”

“Yeah…yeah, I get that. I just… wow . Three is…” Micah chuckled again and I dared to peek up at him. He shook his head, a bewildered smile on his face. “It’s kind of unheard of for horse shifters, y’know?” Running his hand through his hair, the sandy-blonde locks fell back around his face messily.

Why was that so sexy? Courtesy of my raging hormones and whatever pull was happening due to the connection we had sparked upon physical contact, I almost asked him to do it again. In slow motion. Like a shampoo commercial.

Maybe it’s Maybelline, maybe it’s a mystical shifter connection.

“Do you think that means they’ll be dragons?” he asked, and I blinked, embarrassed at my thoughts having drifted so wildly.

“Pardon?”

“The…the babies. Because there are three of them. Do you think that means they’ll be dragons? Because horses usually only have one? On very rare occasions sometimes two?” He winced, then looked at me beseechingly. I almost got lost in his beautiful eyes. “Not that I care if they’re not horses. Because dragons are way cooler. Not that I’ve ever actually seen a dragon. I mean, a shifted dragon. I can see you just fine. I have twenty-twenty vision. Because that’s a thing doctors think about, right? What kind of medical issues might be passed down? Aside from the, um,” he gestured vaguely at his crotch, “I don’t have any issues, I don’t think. And…I’m rambling. Awesome.”

Fuck, but he was delightful, wasn’t he? Though I was beginning to get more than a little concerned about his body image issues.

“We will not know what their species is —are— until they are born, I imagine,” I answered once I wrangled my rampaging hormones back into submission again. “But, for the record, I do not care one way or the other. They’re my babies. I will love them even if they scent completely human at birth.”

“Is that a possibility?”

I shrugged. “I am not sure of anything right now. I have to assume that mixed matings between omegas and…their mates,” I was careful not to refer to him as an alpha, as our situation was completely without precedent, “are the same as mixed matings between beta males and females.” They weren’t known to happen often, but when they did, the offspring had a fifty-fifty chance of taking after their mother’s species or their father’s.

Well, it was more complicated than that, depending on whether either parent had come from a mixed-mated line themselves…but I wasn’t going to get technical.

“Right, okay,” he nodded and swallowed again. “How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks and three days.” I couldn’t contain my answering smile. “They’re all developing perfectly.”

“Yeah?” I watched as his lips curled into a gentle smile, too, and it made my heart flutter. “That’s great. If, uh, if you have photos…like, ultrasound print outs…maybe I could see them?”

Once more, he took me by surprise. I hadn’t expected him to show any interest in the children I had taken it upon myself to conceive. But there he was, asking to see their ultrasound images, as if he was a proud expectant parent and not the man who had only just learned that an omega he hadn’t even slept with was carrying three of his children.

“I do,” I answered slowly, “but you don’t have to…”

He narrowed his gaze as I trailed off. “I don’t have to what?”

“Pretend,” I finished, grimacing at the frown the world seemed to elicit. “I do not expect anything from you, Micah. I understand if you want nothing to do with me or my children. You had the right to know what I did, however you have no obligation—”

“Did you miss the part where I said I never thought I’d have kids? That I do, actually, want them?” My potential mate rose to his feet, standing in front of me so he could look me in the eye. The mirth was gone from those beautiful brown eyes. They were glinting determinedly now. “That I want you? Because I meant that. It’s taking all of my self-control not to grab you and finish what we started a few minutes ago. That doesn’t change because there are three babies instead of two.”

My heart began to race as hope welled up inside me.

I had never dared to even dream that Micah might want these children. That he would feel even slightly the same way as I had. That he would be willing to overlook my morally gray behavior.

That he would want me.

It seemed ludicrous that a young beta would be at all interested in a middle-aged omega like myself, but I had no cause to believe he was lying. Of the two of us, I was the one who had lied and kept secrets, not him.

“What might it take to break your self-control?” I asked lowly. “Because, if you are amenable, I would like to explore this… connection between us. This pull. For…science.”

His gaze shifted to my lips and his own quirked as he looked into my eyes once more. “For science?” he asked with amusement.

I believed we both knew I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about science right then. Still, I nodded. “Science, yes. The others all unlocked their alpha abilities…”

Some of the lust cleared from his expression as he shook his head sadly. “They all thought they were human, though. I was born a shifter. I’m able to shift.”

“Hence exploring for science,” I insisted, though I did not reach for him. I wanted him to close the space between us willingly. I wanted some part of this to be his choice.

“I see,” his little smirk was back, and seeing it made my belly tighten with anticipation. “And what’s your hypothesis, Doctor Weldman?”

Shivers raced down my spine at the sultry question, and slick pooled in my underwear. Unable to tear my gaze from his, I answered, “I suspect you will be able to knot me.” Even just thinking it made my heart race and my cock stir. Licking my lips, I continued, “I believe your scent will change to that of an alpha. Beyond that…I am unsure. I doubt you are secretly a dragon, or that either of our species will change to match the other. But…this…this need to be with you…it’s too strong for this to not be the same thing that the others experienced. By their descriptions, this urge matches.”

“What about the urge to bite? To bond?” He asked, his darkening gaze dropping to the juncture where my neck and shoulder met. “We…we shouldn’t do that, right?”

I shrugged. “That is up to you. I have lived a long time, and the prospect of having a bondmate is…comforting, though I am still unsure how that might even work with our lifespans being so drastically different.”

It took all of my willpower to not mention that precedent had shown that delaying a bonding bite would only delay the inevitable. I wanted a decision of that magnitude to be his choice, too.

Micah nodded, then stepped into the remaining space between our bodies. His long-fingers threaded into the hair at the back of my head as he initiated our second kiss, this one just as intense as the first. While we no longer seemed to create sizzling, crackling energy when we touched, I could feel it bubbling in my veins. It was under my skin and inside my ribcage, making my heart dance and my soul sing.

Mate , my omega wanted to throw his head back and roar. Mine.

Whether my hypothesis was correct or not —whether we’d be able to enact a bond like the other couples or not— this man was most certainly my mate. I knew that better than I knew my own name.

I grew slicker with my omega body’s natural lubrication. It trickled out of me and dampened the seat of my underwear. My cock swelled and pushed at its confines as well, while desperation to lie back and allow my mate to take me and knot me had a ball of tension forming in the pit of my belly.

Micah’s lips tore away from mine, but only enough to trail open-mouthed kisses over my cheek and jaw and down the column of my neck. I trembled, overwhelmed with joy and relief that my mate wasn’t rejecting me for what I had done.

“You’re so hot,” he whispered, smoothing his hands over my shoulders and down my arms. “So insanely sexy.”

I chuckled. “I could say the same about you. You are exquisite, Micah. Prettier than the models you doll up.” He was even more attractive to me now that I was aware of how kind he was.

Kindness was an incredibly attractive quality.

“Fuck, I love your accent,” he muttered, moving his head to my other side and repeating his exploration of my skin with his mouth, “and your beard, and your body…”

“I haven’t been this slick for anyone in…fuck…in my entire life,” I admitted, squirming under the attentions of his hands and his mouth. I whined as he dropped to his knees in front of me and popped the button over the fly of my jeans. I swore I was going to create a puddle when he looked up at me from beneath long, surprisingly dark eyelashes, his hands braced on my thighs.

“Is this okay?” he asked. “You sure we’re not going too fast? We’ve only just met.”

“You are my mate. I can feel it in my soul. If anything, this is not progressing quickly enough. Though that could be the hormones talking…”

His pretty, plump pink lips lifted into another one of those lazy smirks. “Horniness is a better pregnancy symptom than nausea.”

“Except for the fact that I feel as though I might combust if you do not do something immediately.”

Sitting on his haunches, he shuffled around the floor on his knees and gestured towards the table. “Lean against that, sugar. Let’s make sure you’re nice and stable before I take care of you.”

Sugar.

The endearment made me feel weak in the knees and I was glad for his instruction to brace myself on the strong slab of timber.

He unzipped my fly and pulled my jeans and underwear down. I had taken to wearing a size larger than I required, disliking tight waistbands around my growing stomach, and they slid to my ankles with very little effort.

“Gods,” he breathed, staring at my cock as it strained to greet him. He wrapped his hand around its base and stroked slowly, looking up at me as he said, “I can’t wait to ride this.”