Page 63 of The Pregnant Wolf Omega Next Door

Emre was licking blood off his snout.

Zenith froze mid-step. “Are you hurt?”

“Not hurt,” Emre said, looking awkward. “Just cleaning up?”

Zenith eyed the suspicious stains on the towel that hadn’t been there before.

“I ate my placenta,” Emre said very quickly and very quietly. “It has nutrients that my body needs anyway. It’s what we do when we’re out in the open, so no one comes sniffing.”

“That makes sense,” Zenith said, setting Abbie down. He laid out the bowls next to Emre’s snout and poured water into the empty bowl, so Emre didn’t have to move too far to drink. “I heated up some chicken broth for you. What kind of food should I make for Abbie? And for you?”

Emre wagged his tail. “A boiled egg and small pieces of meat for Abbie. Rare is fine. If there isn’t enough, I’ll pass. You need food too, right?”

Zenith sighed. “Sweetheart, you just gave birth. You need food.”

“I just ate my you-know-what,” Emre mumbled. “And you brought me broth.”

“I’ll make a double portion of whatever I’m eating, so you can have some too,” Zenith decided. “Steak, rare?”

“Yes please.” Emre made a soft, pleased sound at the back of his throat. Zenith kissed his cold nose, and carried Abbie out of the bedroom. Abbie whined and squirmed, looking back like she was trying to seek out Emre.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Zenith said, cuddling her close to his chest. “I’ll take you back to your dad after we’ve made him some food.”

This time, he didn’t set her on the floor. Zenith had practice cooking one-handed, having broken his wrist a decade ago. With Abbie tucked in one arm, he filled a pot with water, and heated up a large frying pan. He dropped the steaks into the pan to sear.Then he cracked a few eggs into the simmering water, scooping them out when they were done poaching.

He over-poached one of the eggs for Abbie just to be safe. Then he sliced up part of a steak into smaller pieces, making up a bowl for Abbie.

When the eggs and steaks were all done, Zenith collected his toast, arranging all the plates on a tray.

“Thanks for stocking up the fridge, Hux,” he said.

“You can pay me back by reading a pickup line or two!” Huxton said from somewhere faraway.

“Oh yeah, you mentioned pickup lines,” Emre said upstairs.

Zenith winced. “You really don’t want any from the pink book.”

“No, you should read Emreallthe lines from the pink book,” Huxton crowed. Then he cleared his throat. “‘When sunlight spills over the horizon like my bodily fluids spill over your rosebud—’”

“Gods, no, please,” Zenith said, wishing he could see Emre’s face.

“Uh,” Emre said.

“‘—my love blooms like an asshole being stretched from the inside by alien horrors from the deep—’”

“Huxton, please,” Zenith groaned. “Please stop. No one courts with those lines.”

“Wow,” Emre said. “That might be worse than me eating my you-know-what.”

Zenith closed his eyes and hoped this wasn’t enough to drive Emre away. Maybe his food might salvage the situation.

He pushed his way into the bedroom, tray balanced carefully in one hand, Abbie cradled safely in the other.

Emre perked up. “That smells so good.”

Zenith tried not to burst with pride. He set down the tray and removed Emre’s empty broth bowl, showing the omega what he had cooked. Then he picked up the little bowl of steak pieces and extra-cooked egg. “Is this okay for Abbie?”

Emre nodded, wagging his tail. “That looks great. Thanks. Set it in front of her and she’ll inhale it.”