Conceivable Read online

  And he was drifting again. That wouldn’t do. “Come on,” he said decisively, slipping out of the booth and standing up. “We’ve had too much beer for a talk like this.”

  “More like not enough.”

  “Nope. We need coffee.” Jory offered Darius a friendly grin and a hand up. “Two coffees, and some fresh air. And don’t sweat it. These are on me.”

  * * *

  MacInnes’s made surprisingly good coffee for an Irish pub -- or maybe, on second consideration, it wasn’t that surprising at all. They needed something quality to put the Irish in for early customers who took their day drinking seriously. Also, something strong enough to melt spoons in to sober up the late night clientele before they poured their way home.

  Jory took a long sip, relishing the deep, dark complexity of the smoky French roast. Better enjoy it now. With any luck, he wouldn’t be able to drink caffeine for a good few months to come. He crossed his fingers and tapped his heel on the pavement three times for luck.

  Darius walked beside him, quiet and thoughtful. He did that, always had. Went me-big-tough-Alpha broody, Heathcliff-on-the-moors, whenever he had a problem to chew over inside his head, and was never more serious or reserved than when his world had tilted sideways. Jory was sorry for that, but only that part of it. Darius didn’t know he did it, as it happened. Nor did Darius realize what a big heart he had, under that distancing act. Wouldn’t have believed it if he’d been told, but Jory knew. He knew.

  “Why you?” Jory asked at last, lightly. He slipped his hand into Darius’s coat pocket, and at his curious sideways glance, said, “Cold. I have my reasons as to why you. Let me start at the beginning and explain it all. It’ll make more sense that way.”

  Darius considered that a moment, then nodded.

  Good! Jory cleared his throat as he guided them left, down a side street away from MacInnes’s to a park walk they’d taken countless times. Familiarity always soothed Alphas when they were in this kind of mood.

  “I started thinking about babies, oh… five months ago? Six?” he started, sure that Darius was listening to every word. “Casually at first. Then, more and more often. I wondered if it was that biological clock everyone seems to talk so much about. You know, the one I was pretty sure I didn’t have?”

  Darius chuffed quietly, the humor touching his eyes. Also good! “I recall.”

  “Turns out I was wrong. There’s just something in me that’s hungry for it, that’s ready for it. Maybe it’s in tune. I’m making good money, as good as a kindergarten teacher can expect. I have friends in daycares and preschools who can cut me deals on childcare, and I have a good, steady home that’s big enough for one little baby and me.”

  Darius listened, only giving the occasional nod, but that was good enough to go on with. Jory pressed forward. “So, baby. Fine. Next logical step from there is who do I want to be the father. I thought about a hookup for maybe five seconds. That’s not me.”

  Darius wrinkled his nose in agreement.

  “Then I thought about in-vitro fertilization, or donor sperm, or a volunteer Alpha, but that’s not me either. Too much of a business arrangement. It works for some, but I need more.”

  Darius cleared his throat quietly. “Why not an ex-boyfriend? There’ve been a few.”

  Because no one else could ever compare, Jory thought. Then said, “Didn’t seem fair.”

  “How so?”

  “Because all I’d want from him was a baby, and how would that make him any different than all the other options?”

  Darius gave a sideways nod, conceding the point. His fingers flexed, rosy from the cold, before he slipped his hand in his coat pocket with Jory’s and knocked their knuckles together. “But I’m different? Really?”

  “You are,” Jory said. “And I’ll tell you why.” He licked his lips. His heart beat a little faster. Now they were getting to the meat of it, the crux of it, and he had to tread carefully if he was going to have a chance at a taste of everything he’d ever wanted. He knew Darius wasn’t in love with him, and if he wasn’t by now then he probably never would be. But there was a way to still have it all, all the same.

  Darius had never gone on the hunt for an Omega to pop out cubs for him, but he knew Darius loved babies. He watched them as if their antics were endlessly fascinating, held them as if they were made of glass until they were old enough to roughhouse with, and the joy on his face when he did…

  “You’ve been in my life longer than anyone else I know, at this point,” Jory said, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think I could ever care for someone any more than I care for you. You’re brilliant, you’re kind, and you’re a good man. Who could I pick that’d be a better dad?”

  He watched Darius chew that over a bit, coming to a meditative stop as he did. His fingers toyed with Jory’s in the coat pocket, absentmindedly twining around Jory’s and lacing together with his. Finally, he looked up at Jory, searching his face. “And is that it?” he asked. “Is that all?”

  Ah. “No,” Jory said, bold and simple. He gently untangled their fingers and moved so that he stood in front of Darius, right there on the street corner in sight of God and man and who-knew-who else, because that didn’t matter and Darius did. “No,” he said again, taking his coffee and Darius’s and tossing them in a handy trash bin. “There’s this.” The biggest risk of all.

  He stood on his tiptoes and pressed his mouth to Darius’s in a kiss.

  Their first.

  Chapter Two

  What do you do with a drunken sailor? Kiss him on a corner with your eyes wide open…

  Jory’s were. Open, that was. Darius couldn’t have shut his if he’d tried, and he didn’t. He needed to see this. Jory, sweet-smelling, gentle-hearted Omega Jory, was in front of him, chest pressed to his, arms around his neck, and his mouth against Darius’s, moving slow and careful, but his lips so warm Darius thought they’d both burst into flames.

  What. The. Omega. Fuck, Darius thought, dazed -- but somehow not at all willing to move. This was absolutely everything he’d fought against for years, and here he was crumbling like a pillar of salt. But he couldn’t stop. Not even when Jory nuzzled against his mouth as he ended the kiss and took a step back, staring up at him, waiting for him to react.

  Darius licked his lips, tasting coffee and bitter hops and Omega, and… lost his mind, just a little. He blinked, and Jory was back in his arms, staring up at him in surprise.

  Another blink, and Darius’s mouth was against Jory’s again, moving hot and insistent this time, coaxing his pretty pink lips apart and tasting anew the flavors that clung to his palate. Feeling the ripple of firm Omega muscle pressed tight against him, the flex of Jory’s arms and the way Jory knotted his fingers into the back of Darius’s sweater. The heat of his breath on Darius’s chin when the kiss broke for half a second, the sound of his small moan.

  Darius looked, listened, felt, and went a little crazier still.

  Bending Jory backward, arms at his waist to keep him from falling, Darius pressed his mouth to the soft, sweet spot where neck met shoulders and nibbled lightly. Then not so lightly, driven by something he couldn’t put a name to. Not a bite, but not far off, and something that would leave just a shadow of a bruise. Maybe for the sake of Jory’s Omega scent, which sprang up rich and heady as molasses in a distillery, burnt-sugar-sweet. One of Jory’s legs came up, knee digging into Darius’s hip in the very first hint of offering the crux of his legs to Darius, and that made Darius groan, clutch him tighter, almost break skin with his teeth.

  There’s this, Jory had said. Good lord. He hadn’t been kidding. This. How long had this been bubbling under the surface without his even knowing it was there?

  Darius let go, wondering if he looked half as stunned as Jory. Probably more so. What did you do with a drunken sailor? Kiss him till he took the Omega to his home and to bed. But… he sniffed the air, tasting Jory’s Omega scent. There was something different.

  Oh. Yes. The lessening of
suppressants. Faint disappointment tempered his lust. No wonder, then. Jory’s hormones were out of control, poor man. He’d probably have humped a light post if he thought it’d given him the come-hither. He needed help, didn’t he? And of course he’d ask his best friend for it. What else were friends for?

  “You’ll do it?” Jory asked, his arms still around Darius’s neck. “Say you’ll do it. Please. There’s no one else I’d want to ask. No one but you.”

  And there was only one answer Darius could give. “I will,” he said, his voice rough from kissing. He cleared his throat. “But not because of this.” Not just because of this, he meant, and hoped Jory understood what he meant. “Because you’re my best friend, man. And I’d do anything you asked of me. So. When? Where?”

  * * *

  “When? Where?”

  “Not now. Not here. Friday night. Your place. I’ll be there at eight.”

  Darius blinked his way out of the memory and back into reality. His lips still tingled with the ghost of Jory’s kisses, but there was nothing quite so grounding as the smell of a lakefront work trailer. Nothing in the world smelled exactly like that. Spilled diesel, the ghost of shitty corned beef sandwiches from a thousand lunches, and rubber from boots, slickers, Sou’Wester hats. And maybe -- was that a hint of illicit nookie lingering in the corners? Someone’s lunchtime delight?

  “Contemplating, or just constipated?” A tenor, faintly Southern, too-smartass-for-its-own-good voice.

  Darius lifted one hand to wave without looking. He didn’t need to. He knew that voice. He and Grant had been friends since he’d moved into Grant’s neighborhood when he'd first arrived in Roanoke Rapids. Upstairs/downstairs neighbors. They’d fought like cats and dogs over parking spaces and rooftop access, joined forces when they realized they did better on the same side, and dished out as much shit as they could shovel in each other’s direction. An Alpha, same as him, Grant loved raising a middle finger to anything that tweaked his sense of right and wrong.

  Grant sauntered over to poke at Darius’s shoulder and get his attention. A cinnamon redhead with a spray of nutmeg freckles, he didn’t look Alpha, but one word out of his mouth and everyone knew. “Something’s up. Spill it.”

  “Something has to be?”

  “That’s the best you can do?” He cocked his head at Darius. “I can tell when there’s something on your mind. Not that I’ll push too hard. Oh, no. I’ll wait and ask you again later when you least expect it. Which is a comforting thought, I know, so I’d go ahead and tell me now.”

  Darius laughed despite himself. “God, you’re a pain.”

  “I know,” Grant said with a grin and without a drop of shame. “Come on. What’s up?”

  Darius chewed it over for a moment. Grant would get it out of him one way or the other, and it wouldn’t hurt to have a sympathetic -- or at least willing -- ear on his side. He might need one.

  And it’d be fun as hell to surprise Grant for once.

  “Jory wants to have my baby. We’re going to have sex on Friday,” he said baldly. “Your turn. What’s up with you?”

  Silence. When Darius turned to look, Grant’s jaw had dropped and stayed there, and his eyes gone perfectly round.

  “Now that’s interesting,” he said. “Jory tells me that’s almost exactly how I looked when he asked me if I’d be up for the job.”

  Grant carefully put a finger under his chin and pushed up, closing his mouth with a faint click of the jaw. He did not, however, blink for another ten seconds or so. “I -- what? Come again?”

  “Haven’t even come once, yet.”

  Grant made a lemon face and popped him one on the bicep. Yep, just like having a brother, in arms or no. “You’ve already got the dad jokes down. No, seriously. Back up. Jory asked you, and you said yes?” When Darius nodded, Grant blew out a breath. “Wow. No wonder you were staring off into space. Me, I’d be running for Mexico so fast I’d kick dust trails up behind me.” A moment’s pause. “You’re almost as good as married to Jory. But still.”

  Darius arched an eyebrow. “Are you done, or should I wait for another salvo of snark?”

  “I think that’s about all I’ve got for now.” Grant coughed once, and managed to make it sound more on the empathetic side of brotherliness. His leaned light against Darius, offering comfort if he needed any. “Could get complicated, you know.”

  Darius leaned back. “Trust me, I know. We spent hours talking last night, working out the details. Assuming everything goes the way it should, that he does get pregnant -- we don’t know if we’ll be compatible that way yet --”

  Grant coughed behind one hand, but when Darius frowned Grant gave him an innocent look and waved for him to go on.

  Weird. Well, whatever. “If he gets pregnant, then we’ll share custody,” Darius said. “Weekends, as soon as the cub’s old enough to walk, and the Omega hormones die down enough for Jory to let him out of his sight. A year or so. I’ll be there as much as I can until then, taking care of them, lending a hand where I can. I’ll make it work.”

  “Hmm,” Grant said cryptically. “That wasn’t quite what I asked, so let me try again. Do you want this? Not just the sex part. The being a dad part. That’s fucking huge, friend, and as for me I’m never getting tied down to that particular stake, so let me ask again and with all the emphasis I can bring to bear. Are you sure?”

  Zing. Straight to the heart, but that was Grant for you. Darius rubbed at his breastbone, but he’d stayed up all night, long after saying goodnight to Jory, thinking this over, and he knew his answer. “Yes.”

  Grant made a thoughtful noise.

  “Yes,” Darius said again, taking a deep breath. He dug his heels down hard against the trailer’s rust-and-oil-covered steel flooring. “I want this. I’m -- excited. Wild. Buck wild. Never had this happen before, but I like it. I’m glad. Fiercely so. And a little terrified. And horny as hell.”

  “Alphas,” he and Grant said together.

  Darius drew a freer breath. “It’s Jory,” he said, simple and true. “I’d do anything for him. This is just part of that.”

  Grant nodded again, still thoughtful, but then surprised Darius by standing on tiptoe to knuckle the top of his head almost affectionately. As if that’d satisfied him, as if it’d explained everything.

  But then again, Darius guessed it kind of did.

  * * *

  “We could go shopping,” Kit said. “Not even for baby things, I know it’s too early for that. You need protein. We could grab some tapas, go for a run along the shore, maybe see what’s playing at the theatre. Something to distract you.”

  “I can’t. Darius will be here any time. You know that,” Jory said. He technically had almost an hour and a half before Darius showed up, but Darius had never been late in his life if he could be deeply, unfashionably early. That cut it down to forty-five minutes at best.

  Kit, Jory’s closest Omega friend and neighbor -- as Darius had that dickhead Grant, Jory had Kit -- sat curled up in a chair, chin in hand, watching Jory with a frown. “It’s just that you’ve never made a nest before, and you’re already wound tighter than a cheap watch spring,” he said frankly. Sweet as sugar and romantic to the bone, he was also paradoxically practical and had a stubborn streak fit to match Jory’s. “You’re going to spiral out and go sproing when you should be going oh God, harder, harder.”

  Jory gave Kit a long, level look.

  Kit laughed, his cheeks pink. “I know, I know. Deacon was in town last night. I’ve got sex on my mind.”

  “Deacon, hmm?” Kit’s long-term honey was an ex-Marine who’d turned trucker. He spent more time out of town than otherwise, but whenever he came around he and Kit kept each other plenty busy. “How long’s he staying this time?”

  “He’s not.” Kit turned glum. “It was just a one-night thing, a detour on his way south. He’s headed for Texarkana next, and he’ll be gone for ages doing runs through there.”

  “Sucks,” Jory said, sympathetic. Deacon
and Kit didn’t have the most conventional relationship, but it sure as hell worked for them. Kit liked his independence, and Deacon loved his work. They made up for the interim loneliness with sex. Simple.

  “Ah well, he’ll be back.” Kit stood up and stretched. “Are you sure you don’t want to get out of here before taking another crack at building a nest? Breeding nests aren’t even that much of a thing anymore.”

  “But they help fertility,” Jory insisted. “They do. You’ve heard the stories.”

  Kit looked doubtful. “Mm-hmm. I’ve also heard the stories about Omegas getting pregnant on the first time, or up against a wall in a bathhouse backroom, so I don’t think it matters that much.”

  “I know, I just -- I still want to do it, and I want to do it right,” Jory insisted. He gave Kit a helpless shrug. “I feel driven. I can’t explain it. All I can do is try and satisfy the urge.”

  “Then do your best, and your worst, and try to chill out just a little, okay?” Kit kissed Jory on the cheek. “And keep the noise to a rock concert level. Some of us are sleeping alone tonight.”

  Jory kissed his cheek in turn. “Bitch much?”

  Kit laughed, tousled Jory’s hair, and was out the door in a twinkling, leaving him behind with forty-odd minutes to go and… one hell of a mess to deal with.

  When he’d rented this apartment, one of the deciding factors had been its big bay window with a seat broad enough to curl up in. He sat down now with a heavy thump. The armload of soft bedding he’d been carrying around with him for half an hour overflowed his arms and slithered down to pool uselessly at his feet. Omegas were supposed to know how to nest properly, weren’t they? So why wasn’t it coming naturally to him? The best he’d managed was a tangle in the middle of his living room floor that looked like a collapsed pillow fort after an entire slumber party’s worth of preteens had kicked it over like Godzilla on a rampage.