Page 37 of Mating Mia (The Alphas’ Perfect Prey #2)

twenty-three

. . .

Mia

T he lemonade is cold against my lips, a welcome relief after three days of burning heat that left my body aching and sore in the most delicious ways.

I shift on the couch, still feeling the phantom stretch of their knots inside me, my pussy tender and my ass still slightly raw from my alphas’ relentless attention.

Even now, sitting across from my parents with perfect posture and casual conversation, I can still feel their cum leaking from me.

It’s embarrassing since I took a shower this morning.

“More lemonade, Mom?” I ask, already reaching for the pitcher, the condensation cool against my palm.

“Please,” she says, extending her glass. “It’s delicious. I haven’t had proper lemonade in decades.”

I pour her another glass, trying not to wince as I lean forward.

My body feels hollowed out, used in the best possible way. All three of my alphas took their turn during my heat—sometimes together, sometimes alone, but always with a single-minded focus on breeding me.

The memory of their naughty words sends a flutter through my lower belly.

“So, how’s the new house?” I ask, settling back against the cushions. “Is it weird to live in an actual building after so long?”

“It’s... an adjustment,” my father admits, his large hands cradling the delicate glass. “Sometimes I wake up and panic because I can’t hear the waterfall. But then I remember…” He breaks off, his eyes finding my mother’s, something fierce and tender passing between them.

“We’re free,” my mother finishes for him. “Orion is gone. Really gone.”

The name still sends a chill down my spine.

Orion—the monster who hunted my family for decades, who killed two of my fathers, who nearly destroyed everything I’d just found.

The battle at the waterfall had been brutal, bloody, a nightmare of fur and fangs and screaming.

But in the end, it was my father who ripped out Orion’s throat, who ended the reign of terror that had defined their lives for so long.

“I never thought I’d say this,” my father continues, his voice rough with emotion, “but I’m actually enjoying having neighbors. People to nod at when I get the mail. Kids riding bikes past our house. It’s normal.”

“Normal is underrated,” my mother says, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “I’d forgotten what it felt like to not be afraid all the time.”

I understand that feeling all too well. Before Kane, Finn, and Jace found me, my life had been all about fear. Fear of Justin’s fists, of his words, of never being good enough. Now, I wake up each morning surrounded by love so fierce it sometimes scares me.

A soft babble from the playpen in the corner draws my attention. Ash pulls himself up on wobbly legs, his chubby hands gripping the mesh as he gives me a toothy grin that melts my heart every time.

“Someone’s awake from his nap,” I say, setting down my glass and crossing to him.

As soon as I’m close enough, Ash reaches for me, his little fingers opening and closing in that universal baby demand. I lift him into my arms, breathing in his milk and baby shampoo scent.

“My little Ash,” I coo, settling back on the couch with him in my lap. He immediately begins patting my face, his exploration gentle but insistent. “Did you have good dreams?”

Ash babbles something incomprehensible, then leans forward to press his open mouth against my cheek in what passes for a kiss at his age. My heart swells with love for my baby.

My heat had come on suddenly, triggered by the stress of the confrontation with Orion, and my parents had taken Ash to their new house across the street while my alphas took care of me.

It was the first time I’d been separated from my son for more than a few days, and even in the throes of heat-madness, I missed my baby.

“He missed you, too,” my father says, reaching over to tickle Ash’s foot. “Kept looking for you, especially at night.”

The words send a pang of guilt through me, but I push it aside. Ash is fine, healthy, happy, and loved by so many people. And maybe, he’ll soon have a brother or sister to grow up with.

My hand drifts to my lower belly, still flat beneath my sundress. It’s probably too early to tell, but I can’t help wondering if one of the alphas’ knots took.

“You look flushed,” my mother says, her keen eyes missing nothing. “Are you feeling alright?”

I nod, a little too quickly. “Just warm. The air conditioner isn’t reaching this corner very well.”

She gives me a knowing look but doesn’t press. One of the things I love about my mother is her ability to know when to push and when to let things lie. She seems to have a second sense for things.

The front door opens with a blast of summer heat, and Kane strides in, his tall frame filling the doorway.

His eyes find me immediately, that intense gaze sweeping over me and Ash with possessive satisfaction.

Something in my chest loosens at the sight of him, as if a part of me has been holding its breath until he returned.

“Hey, everyone. Nice to see you both,” he says, crossing to kiss my forehead before nodding respectfully to my parents.

I lean into his touch, breathing in his scent—pine and cedar and alpha male. Even after days of being thoroughly claimed by him, my body still responds with a quickening pulse, a subtle clenching between my legs. Kane notices, his nostrils flaring slightly as he detects the change in my scent.

“It’s nice to see you too,” my father says, standing. “Sarah and I should be heading back anyway. Got that fence to finish before dark.”

My mother rises as well, smoothing down her dress.

“Thank you for the lemonade, sweetheart. And for letting us watch your little one,” she says, leaning in to kiss Ash’s head, then mine.

As they gather their things, I shift Ash to my hip and follow them to the door with Kane’s hand warm at the small of my back.

We exchange goodbyes, promises to have dinner tomorrow, and then they’re gone, crossing the street to their new home—a small, neat bungalow with a garden my mother has already filled with herbs and flowers.

“They seem happy,” Kane says, closing the door behind them. “Your father was telling me about the workshop he’s building in the garage.”

I nod, bouncing Ash gently as he begins to fuss. “I think they are. It’s still new, being able to live openly, but they’re adjusting.”

Kane takes Ash from me, lifting him high above his head in a game that never fails to produce giggles. “And how about you, pup? Did you have fun with Grandma and Grandpa?”

Ash squeals, little legs kicking in delight, and I feel my heart swell all over again.

But something’s missing. Someone’s missing.

The thought hits me out of nowhere. It’s a sharp pang of longing that catches me off guard.

I suddenly want another baby. I want to feel life growing inside me again, give Ash siblings, and see my alphas’ eyes light up with excitement of another pregnancy.

“Can you watch him for a bit?” I ask, already backing toward the stairs. “I need to... freshen up.”

Kane gives me a curious look but nods, settling Ash against his chest. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” I say, too quickly. “Just need a minute.”

I turn and climb the stairs before he can question me further, my heart pounding with a mixture of hope and apprehension. In the bathroom, I rummage through the cabinet until I find what I’m looking for- a pregnancy test, purchased weeks ago in anticipation of my next heat.

The main bathroom is cool and spacious, the air conditioner humming steadily overhead.

My hands tremble as I read the instructions, though I know them by heart. Pee on the stick. Wait three minutes—two lines for pregnant, one line for not.

Simple, straightforward, but extremely life-changing.

I pull down my underwear, noting the sticky evidence of my heat still clinging to my thighs.

The sight makes me blush, remembering the way Finn had spread me wide for Kane, the way Jace had licked me clean afterward, the way they’d all taken turns filling me until I’m moaning and gasping all their names.

The plastic test is cool against my skin as I position it beneath me. I know it’s probably too early—my heat only ended yesterday, and most tests need at least a week to detect the pregnancy hormone.

But I can’t wait. I need to know.

After peeing on the stick, I throw the cap on and set it on the counter as I wash my hands.

The three-minute wait stretches into an eternity. I pace the bathroom, counting tiles, examining my reflection in the mirror—anything to distract myself from the test sitting innocently on the marble countertop.

My reflection shows a woman I’m still getting used to.

My hair is longer now, falling in waves past my shoulders. My body has softened since Ash’s birth, my hips wider, my breasts fuller. I look... healthy. Happy. Loved.

Finally, unable to wait any longer, I pick up the test with shaking hands.

One line. Not pregnant.

I stare at it, willing a second line to appear, but the test remains stubbornly negative.

Disappointment crashes through me, sharp and bitter.

Logically, I know it’s probably too early to test; I should wait a week or more before trying again.

But the sight of that single line feels like a personal failure.

Tears prick at my eyes as I turn the test in different angles of the light for that second line.

Giving up, I wrap the test in toilet paper, burying it deep in the trash can where the alphas won’t see it.

They’ve been so excited, so sure that this heat would result in another cub, talking about names and nursery colors and how Ash will be the best big brother.

I can’t bear to see the disappointment in their eyes, not when they’ve given me everything I never knew I wanted.

I splash cold water on my face, erasing the evidence of tears, and take a deep breath. It’s fine. It’s early. We can try again.

Kane