Page 123 of Slow Heat

“He just screams,” Jason said, tears running down his face. “There’s so much blood.” He motioned to the soaked towels and the mess on the floor.

“Wolf-god, did you call his doctor?” Father asked, eyes wide.

“I tried, but—”

Father leapt up, turning toward the study door. “There’s no ‘but’. We need a doctor, Jason!”

Jason grabbed his arm. “Father, wait! There’s a doctor coming. He’ll be here any minute. I couldn’t get through to Dr. Ruke, so I had to call someone else.”

“Who?”

“Urho Chase.”

“The alpha friend of Vale’s?” Father sounded suspicious.

“Yes, remember? He was a doctor in the military and he’s handled omega deliveries and miscarriages.”

Father frowned. “I’d prefer Ruke. I know he’s trustworthy at least.” Pater screamed and blood seeped from him. Father went so pale Jason thought he might pass out. “We don’t have time to be particular right now. How much longer until he arrives?”

“I don’t know. I called him right after I called for you. I don’t know where he lives.”

Father lifted the towel Jason had used to cover Pater and swore. He reached down, trying to make some kind of adjustment, but that just made Pater scream again. Father fell over his back, soothing him and sobbing.

The doorbell rang and Jason left his parents, shoes slapping on the wood floor, as he ran to answer it.

Urho pushed him aside immediately and took off his ridiculous beret. “I assume it’s bad if you called me. Where is he?”

Another cry from the conservatory turned Jason inside out, and he grabbed Urho’s arm, tugging him in the right direction. Words were gone. Blind panic held him now.

“This isn’t good,” Urho said, as he entered the conservatory and took in the bloody spectacle.

Father snarled as Urho approached, the defensive instinct of any alpha with an omega in distress.

“Back off,” Urho barked. Then he turned to Jason. “I need to wash my hands, but I shouldn’t leave him. Bring hot water, and a lot of it.” He gripped Father by the arm. “Get it together and move away so I can see what’s happening.”

Jason stuck around only long enough to make sure Father would allow Urho to help and then took off for the kitchen. He ran hot water and put a pot on to boil, too. Then he raced back to the study with the water, soap, and clean towels.

Urho looked grim but thanked Jason and quickly washed his hands. “He needs to be in the hospital. Call for an ambulance.”

“No hospital,” Jason whispered.

Urho lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”

Father draped himself over Pater again, soothing him.

“There are illegal abortion drugs in his system. He uses them every heat.”

Urho grimaced but said nothing more about the hospital. “All right. From what I can tell, the babe is caught, possibly ensnared by some scar tissue from prior miscarriages. But he’s small. It shouldn’t be a problem to get him out. The real issue is the punctured colon. That’s where the blood is coming from. He’s probably gone septic.” He frowned and shook his head. “Bring more hot water.”

The next hour passed like a million years. Jason paced the room, his heart hammering and his mind racing. His father worked beside Urho, but Jason turned his back and stared out the window onto his pater’s garden, tears streaming down his face, as his father and Urho did what needed to be done.

The sound of Father’s sobs and Pater’s screams of agony broke him.

“He needs a transfusion,” Urho said eventually, once the screaming had stopped because Pater had, blessedly, passed out. “I don’t have any bags of blood, but I have the equipment to go person to person. What’s his blood type?”

“Wolf 3,” Father said, his voice a dry husk. “I’m Wolf 2 and Jason is as well. What are you?”

Urho grunted. “Wolf 1.”