All I knew, at first, was that I'm damned tired of waking up under medical supervision. I swear, if I have another pregnancy run like this, someone will get snipped or I'll run away to become a Nun.

Amancia was in the room with me, and that upset me. Not that Nathan hasn't left me in other's care before, but usually not when I need reassurance. It's very disturbing to realize how much I craved his opinion, that what I did wasn't a problem. But I wasn't going to hide from this. "Where are the guys?"

"Alpha is tearing through those kept in the cells and Stephen's tracking some of the humans that escaped after the ceremony. I assume you're not worried about anyone else?"

I spent a few seconds muttering dark thoughts to myself. Too many things I'd never voice out loud, before settling on something I could say. "Hell, Gamma Pearson is tied up in this, too."

"Resting a room over. That mess was worse on him than a first shift." Amancia took a deep breath. "And you've been out for 2 days, missed most of the continuing fights between the 3 of them."

"What in the world are they fighting over?" I mean, that smacks of being territorial over me, but what kind of territory am I?

"Well...Nathan wants to be there when you talk to either, purely from a possessive streak and both the others called him out on that. Neither one of them wants that because if anything is misconstrued, it's a fight."

"And you believe Nate has no reason to worry?"

She was silent for far too long. Even she had doubts.

"If..." Her mouth started to move before the rest of her mind caught up. "If it was up to your temper, there is nothing to worry about. But I was there, and I could feel what you pulled on both men and...I don't know. Pearson has a mate at home, and he doesn't even flirt like some mated wolves would, so I'd like to think that he's dependable even now. But..."

"Yeah, Stephen's alone except for a bitter father. He's facing this with history breathing down his back. Besides, he told me..." I quieted for a second. Did I want to drag her into my every thought this casually? "He said I would have to endure Nathaniel giving up on me before he'd step in. And he had absolute confidence that I wouldn't be let down."

I chose that moment to scoot up higher, to sit up—blast this tummy band. "Besides, I don't care what all stupid things are going on. I'm going to be holding this child very soon. They all can go fuck themselves sideways if they aren't placing her first."

That didn't lighten the look on our Gamma's face—and it shouldn't. I wasn't claiming my mate over two other men because I placed the next generation as more important than the territorial behavior. I was being a rebellious Luna in the best way.

~~~

I wasn't surprised that Gamma Pearson was the first to walk in. More geriatric than prime of life in stride, it made my lips twitch to think that for a brief moment, this was the man I wanted so badly...well, for anything.

For my sanity, I started to think of it as an extrasensory drive, not quite a part of my sexuality because it is unnatural. I would have never thought to go after this wolf.

Not that any were is ugly, and he was fit and well-kept, but I've never been a fan of the DILF category to be into going after older men. The few kind of sexually charged confrontations I've had with them has been a major source of anxiety in my childhood.

Forget childhood. It's been a thorn in my side this whole time, come to think of it.

Even having a bad surrogate father wasn't enough to make me seek out a replacement like a lot of girls do. After that strange memory/hallucination, I suspect it's because I knew what a loving father looks like.

But I mean, look at him—hot as sin, would be sin, and I'm over here dry as the Sahara. He doesn't even make me humid.

Well, currently.

And he's been far more circumspect than his coworker. Mrs. Longfish wants Aldane's babies.

He gingerly sat down on the nearest chair—no hesitation about how close or far he was from me. I suspect that this is what self-secure looks like during extremely awkward. "I am relieved to feel nothing but amusement in your presence, young Luna."

"You look more smug like you expected this outcome."

"I did." His face shifted to something a tad more serious before changing the subject. "I've been through complex ascendancies, first in my pack, then my wife's. Yours has been remarkably without conflict between the head couple. That is despite things that cause conflict—this much fooling around gets people killed. It would be a shame to throw away all that you two have built, to implode at this point."

"And why would you think that's a possibility?"

"You do know that you and your mother will be hunted for the rest of your lives, as creatures to be caged and displayed as symbols of power."

I wanted to pull my knees up under my chin, a pose I couldn't do for several months now. "I'm aware."

"I don't think you understand the severity of the issue."

Well, I wasn't going anywhere, and he was here to aid us. "Lay it on me."

He smirked and shook his head—hearing the double entendre I didn't intend, but continued forward anyway. This man is a master of ignoring what he doesn't want to hear—which means he wanted to acknowledge it but saw it didn't serve a purpose. Sexy DILF joke.

"There are 7 million tracked werewolves in a world of 7 billion-plus. There are a further estimated 1-2 million lost descendants that shift, not knowing what they or we are. Further out, we believe that about 2.3 billion are descendants who may carry traits that don't express themselves. These are divided into roughly 20,000 packs across the globe. Out of 7 million, or 9 million, 2.3 billion, there is only you and your mother.

"You are alone, a treasure." He paused to rub his face. "There are those who will outlive you 2x over out in Asia, Merchant Kings of various cities who think that everything has a price, the plain desperate, and best of their era. In any given year, almost a thousand young Alphas are coming into power. At least 200 of them will never find a Goddess-chosen or genetic mate during the years they lead their pack. I doubt that there will be a single year of your leadership where you live in peace."

He took a breath, having rushed through his recitation, but I knew this wasn't the end. "Ok..."

"Your mate has great natural instincts in a fight, exceptional conversion of the pack's might, but there's always better out there. He needs to leave and take a crash course in combat, 6 weeks minimum, to stand a chance of making it as word gets out. That's as much time as I can give him before transfers start speaking about what they've seen and heard under you."

That was a bit of a blow. I was already anxious to see him, and I could not fight to keep him with me. Much later, I would find out that on top of everything I was starting to enter the earliest nesting phase of pregnancy. It's early, with wolves. It would only get worse the closer to birth we got. But in the moment, it felt like another betrayal—just wasn't sure whose it was. I kept an even face, I'm sure. I croaked a little when I spoke, though. "What else?"

"I need to know what you did to wield this gift you gave me. I need to see it like I did with that death...that is, after your doctor clears you."

~~~

I didn't think about the consequences of this one. I should have.

I would see it if I had ever been into housewife porn—I mean, romance novels, smut variety.

You read something sensual, shocked to see intimacy hanging out in the open. You read it, again and again until the shock wears off. You learn to enjoy it, even crave it, mentally getting off long before your body ever finds release. One day, you can't wait for a partner anymore. The chemical and mechanical release is a biological necessity. The danger is in giving that most intimate part of you to a man that doesn't exist. Then you start obsessing with a particular writer's style of sexcapades, and you're given the most homoerotic gift 2 straight women could ever share.

Disturbing? Yeah, it should be, a little. We like to hide under the barriers of imagination over who and what we are. We want to believe in the man and the woman between the covers. Well, this was definitely similar.

Me, reliving memory-Stephen and memory-Pearson with Pearson, a man I trust. I felt strung out on wanting to bite him all over again. My teeth itched, my mouth was wet, but I sat there only reliving the experience, not imitating it. He was repeating sexual tension of a magnitude that I've never experienced before or since.

Until it clicked.

He managed to unlock that part of himself in that moment—perhaps even further, since I've never asked anyone on the receiving end how it feels. I don't want to know what I do to people—that would only make me crave it. I could feel metaphorical fingers entering me.

It was likely my gasp that alerted him to the fact that things had gone too far. We'd been sitting there, forehead to forehead. It was supposed to be a mental exercise, like any other time he's done this.

He reared back with a startled squeak, practically flipping the chair as he ran out of that room. You could hear his mental bellow, Alpha Hall, get your ass to your mate!

Jeez, that man is loud!

Of course, there was a small part of me that wanted to chase him down. I've been told I'm an ecstatically easy lay. I had created another one just like me, with twice the life experiences I then held. Desire doesn't start and end with one person.

But come on, it's Pearson. Happily married Pearson who wanted to be sure he never did this accidentally to a woman who was under-prepared.

For all my faults, I was the only woman with experience currently around.

I had to laugh at that, frustrated by the vague equivalent of friendzoning the potential best lay of my life.

Hysterical.

Nathaniel must have made it back from the land of interrogation early and had time to take a shower when he came bursting into the hospital room. His hair wasn't even dry when I pushed him against the door and pulled his face down towards me.

You could see the rage of Ryder lurking in his eyes. Nathan wouldn't allow that forward, not if he didn't want a recounting of every damn visit to a school closet.

I took his lips, stole his breath, and fought his tongue with my own. So enthusiastic. My mouth was so aggressive that I cut my lower lip on his teeth, the barest nick.

Well with a wolf and former siren? I hope they sterilize the room.

I was frustrated as he jacked the height up to be able to stand while I'd have slid off the bed onto him. Anger, hurt, whatever lurked in his psyche had no bearing on the amount of control he used to minimize touch. Not that he wasn't thrusting like mad, it's just that I wanted to rub myself all over him, over every ridge and valley. I needed to have the whole of him. Not that I could do that, this pregnant.

And shit, I was still struggling to get out of my shirt.

"Need help?" Nate so rarely spoke, I jerked at the sound of his voice before giving the barest nod. He was still throbbing from my yanking his shaft around when he reached over and shredded the poor thing with his nails. Then he jerked me up curving himself around my belly to place a kiss on my lips. A swift yank and I fell out the bottom of my bra, taking my nipples across his chest.

That climax caught me by surprise. That fast a release from barely any nipple play. I must not be as big around as I thought.

He took his time massaging my breasts and he rocked me against his shaft. As tense as the first one was, this was about the most relaxed I've ever been as I clenched down on him.

Nate growled softly, kissing my forehead—not the sign of a climax, but that he got what he was looking for out of this. We need to go.

I had to laugh at him, a bit. Me, no shirt unless he gave me his, him a pole a mile wide trying to walk out of here like he wasn't as hard as a rock. "Get up on this mattress and I'll finish you off."

He lowered the bed back down and draped himself across it like he was an artist's muse. Of course, this was more like a rather graphic pagan idol. Thankfully I was still capable of crawling across him, but he had to lift me up on his shaft—I had a hard time balancing anymore.

The act of slowly sliding down on that huge thing got us so wet. I am too forward-heavy, so he had to guide me through the ride, giving him no free hands to torment me with, which was fine. We could finish anything more we wanted later, but the stiffie had to go.

The tension in Nathan's forearms (what little I could see past my own chest) matched the burgeoning vein peeking out from his hair. His breath became a hard, living thing, harsh in its raspiness. For simply getting off, he rode the edge of this high for stroke after stroke, having to dig his fingers into my hips as the slick sweat despite the chill made me all the harder to grasp.

That little swish of an 8 with the hips—easier to control the lateral while he stroked me along his vertical, and his eyes finally rolled back. This was going to be far easier than I expected.

I was so pleased with myself that my lip curled up in a delicate smirk.

But Ryder didn't want to cum peacefully.

I was pushed back off him and into the mattress and wolf-man exercised his extensive size to pound my delicate writhing dance into submission.

I came, screaming at the top of my lungs in the middle of the freaking hospital. Highly embarrassing, but so damn good.

Then he started his.

And pulled out, spraying himself across my abdomen.

"What the fuck, Ryder!?"

That fricken prick just massaged his load into my skin. "There, now you can see Stephen alone."

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate werewolves?