Page 50 of Flight of the Omega

JP hummed. “Maybe,” he conceded. “Feeling a little empty now that our eggs are in the nest.”

“Could fix that,” Jack said. The fact he was cradling an egg while he said it had nothing to do with how turned on JP was. Nothing at all.

“You said you wanted to see how many chicks we got first,” JP said, then stuffed his mouth full of salad.

Jack spent the night on the nest. He didn’t look very well-rested, so JP supposed he’d have to take the night shift. He could sleep on the nest no problem.

“Gonna switch with me so I can get breakfast?” Jack asked from the pit of the nest.

“Maybe,” JP said, rubbing a hand absently over his belly. He sat up abruptly. “Or maybe I could stay off the nest for a couple of days.”

“Golly,” Jack said, “you reallyarea breeder, aren’t you?”

JP flushed head to toe. “Guess I am,” he muttered.

“Let’s think about it,” Jack said. JP shifted and took over incubation.

It was easy to forget about a second brood while he was sitting on his first. It was much more difficult when he shifted back to humanoid form and watched Jack keep their clutch warm. Much more difficult when he thought about how empty he was, how much he wanted to be round and full again.

On the third morning, he shifted back into humanoid skin and said, “I want a second clutch.”

Jack’s brows went up. “You sure about that?”

JP nodded. He put a hand over his stomach hesitantly. “I, um …”

Jack smirked and looked away. “Birdie,” he said, “how’s about we wait? This is our first clutch. Maybe we should see how we handle it before anything else.”

“But you said,” JP whined.

Jack clapped him on the shoulder, then delved into the nest. “It’s only a couple of months until you have a couple of chicks to take care of, JP.”

“Fine,” JP muttered, huffing. He went back to breakfast, already pondering how he could get more eggs in him. Part of him despaired at his thoughts—his father was right. And part of him—the bird part, likely—didn’t care.

JP finally stayed off the nest for two whole days, simply by running off and spending the day in the woods. He returned at nightfall—he wasn’t entirely brainless—but he refused to switch with Jack. He stayed well out of reach, and Jack frowned, but he knew he couldn’t leave the nest. JP crowed victory in the morning when he darted off again, leaving Jack cursing a blue streak after him.

He began to wonder if it had been such a grand plan when, by early afternoon, he was sweating and panting and nearly hallucinating. He wandered very close to the cliff edge, peering over, watching the river tumble into the ravine below, white and frothing and frigid.

He hauled himself back just before he lost his balance. He sat in the snow for a long time after that, huffing and puffing, watching the clouds swirl above the waving boughs of the pine trees, the hints of bright blue behind them.

He clawed his way home, realizing he’d made a mistake. Rebound heat was worse than regular heat. He’d be lucky if he made it back. He should have stayed home, home with his mate and his nest and his existing eggs, but he’d been so high on the thought of more eggs …

He paused when he saw a snowmobile near the cabin. He frowned when he realized the door was wide open, that there were two, then three sets of boot tracks everywhere. He felt sick.

Then he smelled it—Midlothian. The hay, the soil. Burr. His father and cigar smoke. Panic bubbled up in his throat. They were going to drag him back to Midlothian, force him to mate with whomever.

He’d never see his chicks. He’d never get to sit on his nest again.

He sank to his knees in the snow. He should have sat on the nest while he could have. He should have run away, so far away no one could ever find him.

His eggs. Oh, his poor chicks. He cried out, then screeched as he rushed the door, grabbing hold of the frame and yanking himself to a stop.

Dr. Vogel, Jack, and someone else looked back at him. “There you are,” Jack said, and JP glanced around, confused.

He was so sure he’d smelled cigar smoke and Midlothian’s soil. He looked back into the cabin, half-expecting to see Burr and his father materialize from the walls.

They didn’t. He’d been hallucinating again.

Dr. Vogel took a hesitant step toward him, hand extended. “Jack said you were acting a bit strange,” she said. “Hank and I were on our way up with some supplies. I wanted to see how you were doing with minding the nest.”