Page 34 of Flight of the Omega

William arched a brow. “What’s wrong with Burr? Isn’t he your mate?”

“No.” JP shook his head, then realized he’d started digging again. Now his father looked furious.

“No? Then who the hell did you let stick you?”

JP winced. “I … uh. My mate … left me.”

William stared at him for a moment. Then he shook his head. “Don’t blame them,” he muttered, and JP let his shoulders slump.

His father was right. Who would blame Jack for dumping him the second he could? JP was nothing—broken, useless. Damaged parts, a total write-off. He felt like a car wreck.

Dr. Vogel was giving him a concerned look. “We might have a case of lovebird syndrome,” she said.

“Lovebird syndrome!” William cried. He sounded affronted by the very idea.

“Yes, it happens when an omega is abandoned by their mate.”

“I know what it is, doctor. He’s never had it before. He’s had three previous mates and all of them were uninvolved after the mating was complete.”

“Oh,” Dr. Vogel said, “that puts him at higher risk for it.”

“Hmph!” William stubbed out his cigar. “Don’t see why—he’s been fine all this time.”

“Yes, well—”

“He’s fine, doctor.” William met and held her gaze.

There was a moment where the doctor looked like she wanted to argue. Then she nodded and said, “Yes, of course.”

With that, she was gone, and JP was once more at the mercy of his father.

Silence pervaded the room for a moment or two. Then William heaved a heavy sigh and reached into his pocket for another cigar. He pulled it out and lit it, then clamped his lips around the end. He took a couple of puffs, then exhaled smoke like a dragon before he finally turned to JP. “Let’s hope these chicks of yours are good runners.”

JP glanced away. He didn’t know if they would be. Jack was shapelocked, and JP himself was a shifter. That meant any chicks might end up being shapelocked in a humanoid form, like their sire. JP didn’t know how much influence his own genetics would have.

William peered at the nest JP had been building on the bed before he went. He said nothing, just looked at it and then left in a halo of smoke. He closed the door behind him, which was how JP knew that he wasn’t meant to follow.

Burr grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt and slammed him into the wall the next morning. JP guessed that his father had broken the news to Burr, that JP wasn’t meant to go running or do anything strenuous.

Burr gave him a little shake, and JP whimpered. He couldn’t help the way he put a hand over his belly, as though he could shield the eggs. Burr shook him again, and his head went back into the wall.

“Little bitch,” Burr snarled at him, then let him down. He slumped to the floor, crouching, then clutched at the back of his head. “You think you’re getting out of this? I should be your mate, and you know it.”

JP felt something warm and sticky over his fingers. He wanted to throw up when he saw blood all over his hands.

Burr kicked at him and he cringed as the other angelic’s boot collided with the wall above JP’s head. Burr crouched down so they were at eye level. “I’m not done with you. You might have gotten out of this, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Hey-o,” called a familiar voice, “what’s going on here?”

They both turned to see Jack standing in the doorframe of one of the rooms down the hall, a frown on his face. JP’s heart leaped into his throat; he wanted to run to the alpha so badly.

Burr got to his feet, then offered JP his hand. “Nothing,” he said. “JP slipped and fell. He’s pregnant, you know.”

JP glanced at Burr, who seemed to be impassively waiting for Jack’s reaction to that.

Jack feigned surprise well. “Is he?” the ranch hand asked, glancing to JP. JP curled a hand protectively over his swollen belly, glancing away. “Well, congrats, I guess.”

JP bit his lip to keep from saying anything.