November Heat

6

She could protect herself—and him—from anyone. Of that, Kate had no doubt.

But something warm and unfamiliar stirred in her chest. She nodded and, just for a second, rested her forehead against his sternum.

“Just don’t be long, okay?” she muttered—and immediately growled at herself. She sounded pathetic.

Ben chuckled, but didn’t comment. He nudged her gently toward the bedroom, giving her ass a light smack.

“Consider them already gone.”

Kate shot him what she hoped was a promising look and sauntered off toward the bedroom, trying her best to put some seductive sway into her hips. She pulled the door mostly closed, but not all the way—she was dying to know what this “second alpha” was like.

“Ben, what the f**k!” As soon as the front door creaked open, the familiar voice of the cop filled the hallway. He was almost snarling. “I said this was on your head, and you two nearly burn the place down? I had to bail in the middle of dinner with my mate and rush over here—”

His indignation could’ve fueled its own fire, but Ben cut him off, calm and smooth.

“Po, it was just the wiring. And everything’s fine with Kate now. She was just a little… nervous.” Ben hesitated, and Kate could feel the smile in his voice. “Kate, sweetheart, come here, please.”

Sweetheart. Kate snorted at the ridiculous pet name, but still stepped out of the bedroom—smiling like an i***t.

At that exact moment, from the stairwell, came a whiny, squeaky voice she would recognize in any universe:

“Po, baby, are you done up there?”

Kate’s smile flipped into a snarl. A real, guttural growl ripped from her chest, loud enough that both Po and Ben jolted half a meter in the air.

Then she launched herself at the door.

“Claude, you little s**t, I’ll kill you!”

Ben caught her mid-charge, twisting her arms behind her with professional efficiency and pinning her to the wall with his whole body—knee jammed firmly between her thighs. But the Claude in question—adorable, big-eyed, black, and very much alive—had already stuck his head through the barely open door to see what was going on.

What happened next they shouted simultaneously:

“You’re alive?!”

“What are you doing here?!”

“I thought you were dead! I went to the police! They laughed at me—”

“I decided it’d be better for everyone this way!”

“Is that—do you have a belly? Why do you look pregnant?!”

“I am pregnant!”

“You two know each other?” Po cut in, completely stunned. “Kitten, why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

Claude flushed and stammered something unintelligible.

“Let me go!” Kate snapped, biting Ben’s hand—viciously, but still not drawing blood. Barely.

“No, she’ll hurt Claude. And our baby!” Po started pacing in panic.

“She’s not an omega. She can control herself!” Ben barked, his voice booming over the chaos. “Everyone into the living room. Sit. We’ll talk there.”

He didn’t release Kate until Claude, under Po’s anxious escort, waddled into the apartment belly-first, groaning and rubbing his lower back. Po kept casting nervous glances between Kate and Ben as if they were live grenades.

Once the pair disappeared into the living room, Ben grabbed Kate by the wrist and hauled her along behind him without another word.

In the bright, spacious living room, where Claude had already settled at the table and Po stood beside him, Ben steered Kate toward a black leather couch and sat down, pulling her onto his lap and locking an arm around her waist.

“Talk,” he ordered. “How do you know him?”

Kate sighed deeply and shut her eyes. It all felt like a fever dream: knotted c***s, pregnant men… But she wasn’t waking up, so she leaned back and began talking.

“Claude worked at our gym for about a year,” she said. “Showed up out of nowhere, and Charlie took him in.” She gave a crooked smile. “Charlie loved strays. Claude ran the fitness classes. Girls melted for him. Guys too.”

She cracked an eye open and snorted, remembering the time she’d rescued cute Claude from a couple of meathead bodybuilders and unofficially appointed herself his protector.

“And then he disappeared,” Kate continued, closing her eyes again. “Right when Charlie… you know. And Claude just vanished. No calls, no shows at his apartment. Turned out he wasn’t even in the system. Like he’d never worked there. Like he’d never existed.”

Her jaw tightened.

“I went to the police. They laughed at me and threatened to report an ‘unregistered employee.’ I told them to file their complaints in the heavenly office for all I cared.”

She sighed, remembering the hell after Charlie’s death—searching for Claude, dealing with the inheritance, covering Claude’s classes for a while until all his fitness fangirls fled her sessions.

“At his apartment, the cops found nothing but a giant dildo and porn mags. No clues. One minute there was a guy, next minute—gone. They closed the case.”

Kate felt the exhaustion hit her all at once.

“I don’t even want to see you,” she spat at Claude, opening her eyes to glare. “Ungrateful bastard.” She tugged hard, frustrated. “Let me go. I’m not going to touch him.”

Ben released her.

Kate stood, grabbed her poor, battered bag of cognac, and left the room without another look at the two by the table. She slammed the bedroom door so hard it echoed outside and slid down to sit by the bed.

She fought with the bag, trying to get the bottle out, then ripped it open in a series of furious jerks.

Pads, tampons, chocolate, snacks—everything scattered across the floor.

Kate unscrewed the bottle, took a massive gulp, choked as the alcohol burned all the way down, coughed until tears stung her eyes—and drank again.

By the time Ben opened the bedroom door, a good quarter liter was sloshing inside her.

“All men are assholes,” Kate declared hoarsely, taking another swig.

“They’re gone,” Ben said. He hovered awkwardly at the threshold, then stepped inside and added quietly, “I asked them to leave.”