Page 20 of Red River (Eden’s Omegaverse #4)

Labor pains had never been particularly difficult for me. This time, they barely showed up at all. After five births, I was a veteran.

Dad sat nearby on a pouffe, watching me closely. His beautiful face was glowing like the sun.

"You're handling this like a pro, River! I used to cling to your father so he could take some of my pain!"

"But I don’t feel any pain, just mild contractions," I replied with a smile, preening a bit.

Archer was sitting on the bed, observing me, while I paced back and forth between him and the pouffe. My large belly had dropped very low now—the time was close.

Dad glanced at Archer, his expression a bit shy.

"So… excited to welcome your first son?"

"More like a calm confidence. I know River’s going to handle it like a pro."

"I believe that too. And I’m glad you chose a home birth. It’s just like how River was born."

"True Mates’ births are 100% safe," I said, beaming.

Dad sighed with deep satisfaction. "That’s yet another thing I’ll never get tired of appreciating…"

"Your family really tipped the scales of fate in your favor," Archer admitted.

"I even know who did it," Dad added with a wink.

"Uh!" I grunted, placing a hand on my back.

"Maybe it's time to sit down," he suggested with a gentle smile.

"Alright, perhaps this is a good moment. I'll let you talk me into it—" I started, but right at that moment, there was a quiet knock at the door.

Dad got up and opened it just a crack, peeking outside. Standing there was his namesake—little Lake.

"What’s up, sweetheart?"

Lake lifted his big green eyes to him and said, "I’d like to sit with my dad for a bit…"

Dad glanced back at me, and I nodded. My little son stepped inside, taking in the room with curious eyes.

I was already in the nest, still wrapped in my robe.

"Is the baby here yet?"

The baby didn’t have a name yet because the boys still couldn’t agree on one. The debates and arguments were ongoing. Some of them were pretty hilarious, like Spider-Man or Matterhorn.

"Not yet, Lake, but it won’t be long now!"

"Can I watch?"

Dad shot me an amused look.

"Uhhh," I hesitated, "maybe don’t, like, watch too closely, but you can hang out and soak up the vibe. Just sit over there by the window—there’s a comfy chair," I grinned, a little embarrassed.

Lake curled up in the chair, hugging his knees, while my dad walked over to him with a smile.

"Are you really interested in this kind of thing? My boys ran out of the room when I was giving birth…"

"I'm interested! I’m gonna have babies one day too," Lake announced confidently.

Dad had gotten to know Lake’s interesting personality well over the past few months—he was practically living with us—so he just chuckled softly.

"You know, when I was a kid, I knew I was an omega too," he remarked.

Lake nodded solemnly. "People say that’s silly, that you can’t just know…"

"Well, sometimes you can’t," I chimed in. "Look at how wrong Igor was when he insisted Van would be a beta!"

For the past nine months, Van—who was now thirteen and a half—had been going through some serious changes. He had shot up in height, his frame shifting into that classic alpha build—broad shoulders, narrow hips. Even Van himself had been surprised, almost in shock. And Igor had to come to terms with the fact that there was another alpha in the house he'd have to learn to balance with. But they were actually doing pretty well—especially since Van was really into martial arts, just like Aiden. Aiden, by the way, had suddenly decided he was going to be an alpha too, despite everyone telling him to slow his roll.

But Lake? Lake had never wavered—he insisted he was an omega, and he stuck to that belief like glue.

"A lot of people do have a gut feeling about it," I admitted. "I did too, from the start. And Archer did as well. But it’s good to stay open-minded, just in case. Uncle Sam was sure he’d be a beta, and, well—he wasn’t."

"I know what I am," Lake said, pursing his lips. "That’s why I wanna watch… if it’s okay, of course," he added quickly, glancing cautiously at his granddad.

My dad studied him with a small smile. He had long since noticed that Lake was the type of kid who had strong opinions and never hesitated to share them.

"The more I look at you, the more I can’t believe how much you remind me of myself," Dad murmured, tilting his head slightly. "Your looks!"

"That’s probably a good thing—you’re really pretty," Lake mumbled, then immediately flushed red.

Dad laughed into his fist. "Well, thank you for the lovely compliment!"

"If you knew how old Granddad actually is, you’d be even more surprised," I muttered. "The magic of True Mates!"

I was about to say something else when suddenly, my contractions strengthened—shifting in a way I knew meant things were progressing fast. I spread my legs a little, and Archer immediately slid behind me, wrapping his arms around me. The moment he did, all the discomfort, all that stretching feeling—it just vanished.

"Ohhh, that’s so much better," I sighed, leaning back against his broad chest.

Dad smiled softly.

When I introduced my parents to Archer, they were pretty shocked. They had first seen him in Igor’s video, but they weren’t sure what our relationship was. Skye was the only one who had guessed, piecing together things Archer had mentioned to him back in college. But he hadn’t said a word to our parents—since he wasn’t sure if I even wanted to reconnect with them. He didn’t want to give them false hope, especially without knowing whether Thomas was still in the picture.

So they knew nothing about Archer at first, but interestingly, from the very beginning, their approach to him was completely different from how they had treated Thomas—almost like they could sense his energy.

My dad had a peculiar way of interacting with Archer—almost shy, rarely addressing him directly, avoiding looking directly into his eyes.

For some reason, Archer’s energy somehow intimidated him, which made me realize that perhaps my father’s softer, more relaxed temperament had always been the perfect match for my dad, allowing his delicate personality to bloom and thrive.

In the presence of such a strong, dominant alpha like Archer, my dad seemed kinda… smaller, more timid.

But my own energy was way more nervous and erratic than my dad’s. That’s why Archer’s steady, unwavering presence was the perfect match for my turbulent emotions.

Dad perched on the edge of the bed, watching me carefully.

Then, another wave of contractions hit—stronger, pushing the baby downward. A deep sound escaped my throat, and Dad quickly moved closer, slightly parting my robe.

"I can see the head! This is it, River, just a little more!" He flashed me an encouraging grin.

I focused, feeling another contraction building inside me. I knew this would go fast—this was my sixth birth, and each one had been shorter than the last. In just a moment, I would be holding my son in my arms.

"Almost there," Dad whispered. "You’re doing amazing."

He leaned forward, looking between my legs—and suddenly, his brow furrowed, like something had caught him off guard.

"One more push. Just one more."

I concentrated, and moments later, I felt that unmistakable, incomparable sensation—the moment my son’s body slipped free.

But the look on my dad’s face told me something was different. Feeling a wave of unease, I leaned forward, pulling my robe aside, and my eyes landed on my baby’s slippery body.

"A… purple… alpha?"

I blinked in disbelief as Archer let out a low, approving rumble.

Dad lifted the newborn slightly, and that’s when I saw them—thin, crimson-red lines tracing along his limbs and down his back. Just like my brother Storm’s purple ones… except these were red!

I stared in shock as Dad placed the baby on my chest. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his warm body, gazing at his tiny face.

"Is there such a thing as a red alpha? Or is he the same as purple, just with a different color?" I glanced around, but their faces were clueless. Well, that wasn’t important anyway—the baby was healthy, and that was what mattered.

"My son," I whispered. "Our son."

Archer reached out, gently touching the baby’s head, then took his tiny hand and gave it a little shake, as if greeting him.

"Hey there, little guy."

Lake edged closer, peering at the baby with wide eyes.

"I thought all purple alphas had purple lines."

"I thought so too," I murmured, still in disbelief. "I’ve never seen lines like this before."

"Maybe it’s ‘cause you have red hair, Dad," Lake offered, his tone serious, though his eyes sparkled with curiosity. "But what’s important is that he’s cute and healthy, right?"

My dad nodded enthusiastically. "That’s right, Lake! Health is the most important thing. And… um, cuteness. There’s a lot of that flying around in this room." He winked. "And the color of a baby’s markings might not mean much at all. It could be just a variation of purple alphas. Who knows? With alien genes like ours, there are bound to be surprises!"

"He’s incredible," Archer said, his voice full of quiet awe. "Absolutely perfect. Beautiful just as he is."

He pressed a kiss to my cheek. "Thank you, River. You brought us a beautiful son."

We both gazed down at our newborn, completely enchanted.

A tiny tuft of hair sat on his head, rich and deep red—no doubt whose genes had won out there.

"I think my name suggestion fits best!" Lake announced, raising his tiny finger.

"Phoenix!"

I laughed. "That fiery, huh? Maybe it really is the best one!"

***

An hour later, the room had filled with a small crowd—all my sons, including Riley, who had traveled here for the birth. Everyone wanted to see their little new brother.

And there was someone else here—Sam, who had come to meet his first nephew.

He was kinda sheepish and sweet, doing everything he could to make up for what had happened.

But I wasn’t angry anymore—and hadn’t been for a long time. I was just way too happy for that and glad I had my friend back. And not just my friend—he was family now.

This time, when the guests came in, Archer was the one holding the baby, making sure each of them got a chance to come closer—but one at a time and carefully. I chuckled under my breath, remembering how it felt to be a first-time parent when that protective instinct kicked in so hard.

I felt great—nothing like I had just been through labor. And I couldn’t get enough of my dad being here for this moment in my life.

When I gave birth to Riley eighteen years ago, it was just me and Thomas. I had felt so alone, tired, and clueless, and I had missed Dad so much.

Every now and then, my gaze drifted toward him, and he would respond with a warm little wink.

"You’ve got so many grandkids now," I said with a smile. "This can’t even be that exciting for you anymore. In the past year and a half alone, a whole little crowd of them has been born!"

It was true—several of my brothers had already had their first children, and our family gatherings had basically turned into baby-care discussion centers.

Dad laughed. "Every one of my grandkids is important to me, and I cherish each of them. Your father and I—we started as just two people. And now look—an entire little army, born from us!"

Then, he shifted closer and wrapped an arm around me.

"But this little one is special to me," he murmured. "Because he's the first of yours that I get to see come into the world. My eldest son's child." His eyes glistened. "This means… so much to me, River."

I looked at him for a moment.

"And it means a lot to me that you're here. My life… feels complete now."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

Since our reunion, my dad and I had talked a lot. I had told him that I had let fear and pride rule me—that shame, believing I had made a mistake, had kept me from standing before him and admitting Thomas wasn’t the best choice for me. But my ego had kept me from listening. For years.

I had spoken with my father too, but not as much. The most honest conversation was still waiting to happen. But in the ones we had already had, they both admitted they regretted trying so hard to stop me. Looking back, they thought it would have been better to accept my choice and just support me through the consequences. They had been caught in a dilemma—should they keep pushing, trying to show me the truth? Or should they let me believe the illusion, just to keep me in their lives?

They thought they had made the wrong choice—because they lost me. And I knew I had made the wrong choice—because I lost them.

It had been a true stalemate.

About a month later, after getting to know Archer a bit more, Dad said something unexpected to me that revealed a bit more about their initial reluctance:

"Your father and I always thought you’d end up disappointed with a dominant alpha. But seeing that Archer is your True Mate… we’ve come to realize maybe you knew something about yourself that we missed. Omegas are very different—some want a more equal partner, some want a strong leader. I guess we just had trouble accepting that you were one of those who wanted to submit."

"I guess you see submission differently than I do. There’s a negative undertone to that word for so many people. But the way Archer understands it… that’s a whole different world."

"I see that now. And I can appreciate the wisdom of Fate, who set you both on the same path. I’m happy you found exactly what you need."

My conversations with my father had been much shorter and… less clarifying. So I guess there was still something left to explain.

***