Wyatt paused with his lips parted, his gaze darting between Raph’s eyes. “I can’t have your name on its birth certificate.”
Briefly, Raph pictured Raphael Fleming and Wyatt Fleming on the official document, his gut curdling. Maybe it would’ve been fine elsewhere. In Meadowfall, people would recognize their names. “Yeah, no. We can’t. But I’m not gonna let you ruin your rep with another bastard child.”
“I don’t have much of a reputation left, if you’ve noticed.” Wyatt gave a wry smile. He leaned back into his seat, the plastic squeaking. “I had to build everything from scratch after I left home.”
Raph winced—that had been a failure on his part. “I know.”
But Wyatt had his own business now, had his loyal customer base, and Raph could only imagine how much blood, sweat, and tears Wyatt had put into his drive-in. For someone Raph had grown used to protecting, Wyatt had come a long ways.
“So I’ll raise the baby myself. If—If you want to help, that’s fine, I guess.” Wyatt shrugged, glancing at the pregnancy test. “I just... don’t know how to tell everyone else about it. Like Hazel. Or Penny.”
“Are you telling your boyfriend?” Raph asked, so he could convince himself that Wyatt didn’t need him anymore. “The chef in the kitchen.”
“Sam? He’s my best friend. Omega.” Wyatt smiled crookedly. “Last week wouldn’t have happened if I had a boyfriend.”
A hopeful flutter rose in Raph’s chest. “So that means—”
“Do you have a family?” Wyatt asked, his smile falling away. “If you do, you really shouldn’t be here—”
“No, I don’t.”
“—and we should stop seeing each...” Wyatt trailed off, meeting his eyes.
“You wanna keep seeing me?” Raph asked, holding his breath. He shouldn’t. But they were stepbrothers, and maybe they should patch the relationship they used to have. Maybe he was just making excuses, because he wanted to hold Wyatt again. “I’m not going to abandon you or the baby.”
Wyatt relaxed then, his smile warm and soft. “Promise?”
“Yeah. I promise.”
All he’d intended was to squeeze Wyatt’s shoulder. Or touch his hair. But as Raph rounded the desk, his gut said Yes. And he couldn’t help running the backs of his fingers along Wyatt’s jaw, his knuckles catching on newly-shaved skin. Wyatt tipped his cheek into Raph’s touch.
“You’re not...” You’re not put off by this? Raph’s voice died in his throat when Wyatt purred, nuzzling the back of his hand. “Wy—”
“Shh.” Wyatt’s eyes fluttered shut, the fluorescent light glinting on his lashes.
“Gods, we can’t do this.” Raph drew his hand back, his heart pounding too hard. Touching Wyatt felt good. Felt right. And Wyatt’s daughter was out there; she knew who Raph was. “We’re brothers, Wy. You have a family.”
“I don’t have an alpha,” Wyatt murmured, so quietly that Raph thought he might’ve heard wrong. “I haven’t found one who fits just right.”
And now Raph couldn’t breathe, too. “You’re doing this with me.”
“Because you feel right.”
Raph closed his eyes, his breath staggering. This couldn’t be happening, Wyatt wanting him. Wyatt needing an alpha. “Fuck. I’ll just—Just let me lock the door.”
They shouldn’t be locked up in a room together.
“Fine,” Wyatt breathed. When he opened his eyes, his irises were a dark green-brown, his pupils dilated.
Raph strode the three steps to the door, locked it, and returned to his side, glancing at the test kit.
Two blue lines.
“What does that mean?” he asked, nodding at the stick, even if he already knew.
Wyatt’s breath shuddered out of him. “I’m pregnant.”
Raph swallowed hard. “And that—that means...”
Wyatt stood in a smooth motion, the chair rolling away, his eyes clouded. “It means I need comforting,” he whispered, stepping closer to Raph. The magnolia of his scent welled up around them, laced with honey and musk, and Raph was moving before he could think, his arms sliding around Wyatt, his lips grazing Wyatt’s cheek.
“Gods, this is wrong,” he whispered, even as Wyatt leaned into him, his body slender, his hair smelling like broth and sweat and omega.
“We’ll talk about right and wrong later,” Wyatt said, his thin fingers threading into Raph’s hair, pulling him forward. “Kiss me.”
It should feel wrong, and it should feel like the gates of hell were opening, swallowing him down. Instead, Wyatt’s lips parted for him, damp and soft. Raph groaned, sealing their mouths together, swallowing Wyatt’s moan. He backed them up against a wall, smoothing his hand down Wyatt’s spine, holding him close. Wyatt arched against him, his tongue sliding hot against Raph’s.
In his arms, Wyatt didn’t feel like a stepbrother. He felt like an omega, like someone who desired Raph, who needed him. Blood pooled between Raph’s legs; his pants grew tight. And Wyatt dragged him closer, his breath heavy on Raph’s cheek, his hand easing past the waistband of Raph’s pants.
“Fuck,” Raph hissed, rutting into his soft, warm palm. This was wrong. And he wanted to pin Wyatt up against the wall, grind into his hips, make their cocks touch. Wyatt slipped into his mouth. Raph jerked his head away, leaving Wyatt panting, his lips kiss-swollen. “Damn it, Wy. We’re fucking stepbrothers!”
Wyatt panted damply, his own cock a hard line against Raph’s thigh. His lips quirked in a smile. “We’re fucking, aren’t we?”
Raph’s cock throbbed. It was where they were headed, if they didn’t stop this right now. Wyatt’s fingers swirled around his tip, sending a jolt of pleasure down his nerves. Raph’s breath rushed out of his lungs. He pressed his forehead against Wyatt’s shoulder, nuzzling where Wyatt’s shoulder met his neck, and he smelled most strongly of magnolia.
A silvery scar lay right over Wyatt’s scent gland, thin and slightly curved—a bite mark. The sight of it made Raph’s instincts snarl.
“Whose mark is that?” he growled, baring his teeth. He shouldn’t be asking; Wyatt wasn’t his omega.
Wyatt glanced away. “Max left it.”
How dare that slimeball bond with Wyatt, and then throw
