“Um, no. I…I was just wondering.” Asher hitched his backpack onto his shoulder. “It doesn’t seem fair, though, right? Like, the omega is the one giving birth, so he should be the one to decide. He’s still a father, even if he’s not twenty-five. His feelings should be considered at least.”
“And perhaps the baby’s alpha father too,” Wes added gently.
“I guess.” Asher scowled.
Wes was curious about Asher’s motivations. As a beta, it was impossible that he had gotten an omega pregnant, but he certainly seemed invested in this conversation. Did he have a friend? Or maybe it was something else.
“Are you asking because you’re interested in becoming a father?”
Asher reeled back. “What?! I’m twenty-one.”
Wes shrugged. “Some betas get the urge early. I thought maybe you were gathering information because an opportunity had arisen.”
“No. It’s not that. I just know someone. He might not be able to…keep his baby. I wish I could help.”
“Ah. It’s commendable that you care, but the decision lies with his family. So hopefully he has supportive parents.”
Asher grimaced but offered nothing further.
Wes attempted to reassure him. “If they go the adoption route, those situations usually turn out great. Agencies are very meticulous in their screening. My husband and I are currently going through the process, so I can attest to that.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Most babies who are adopted end up with beta couples.”
Asher was a Parkenson, so the struggles of trying to start a family as a beta had likely never entered his mind. It would not be hard for him, thanks to his family’s wealth and connections.
“Thank you for answering my questions, Professor Pashuk.” Asher shook his hand.
“No problem. I hope everything goes okay for your friend.”
“Me too. And I hope you and your husband are successful. I’m sure you’ll make great fathers.”
A contemplative look crossed Asher’s face before he headed up the stairs and out the upper exit of the lecture hall.
The heavy door had not fully closed behind him before it creaked open again.
Wes looked up and frowned at the man at the top of the auditorium. “Lux,” he said flatly. “What can I do for you?”
Lux, another beta professor in the history department, sauntered down the stairs.
“I was meeting with an adjunct in the biology building,” he said. “And your husband was coming out of the lab.”
“Okay?”
Lux shrugged. “Nothing. He just looked good. Like he always does. That red hair is such an unusual shade, so dark it’s practically brown. But today I noticed the gold flecks in it, like the sun was making it glitter.” He cocked his head before adding, “I bet it’s soft when you touch it.”
Although Wes agreed that Assa’s hair was spectacular, Lux’s praise sounded more skeevy than admiring.
Wes took a deep breath, not giving the other man the satisfaction of an indignant response. “Did you come here just to tell me you saw Assa, or was there some other reason?”
Lux’s leer faded. “I was hoping to get your outline on last century’s alpha labor strikes. So we can avoid redundancies, since we’re sharing half our students this semester.”
Some of the tension released from Wes’s shoulders. He wished Lux would behave this way all the time—like a normal work colleague, asking about normal work colleague things.
But ever since five months ago, when one of Wes and Assa’s hookups turned out to be an acquaintance of Lux’s, their professional relationship had soured.
The Pashuks’ one-night stand had not intended harm, but his vague story about havinga fantastic night with a married couple who worked at the universitywas enough of a breadcrumb for Lux to figure out their identities.
