Page 101 of The Feral Alpha

“Bad?” Olson asked sympathetically.

“He said I’m fat and ugly,” Aaren mumbled, looking at his feet.

Olson narrowed his eyes. “You should leave him.”

“It—It isn’t that easy.” Aaren sagged. “I’m trying. I don’t know.”

“I can have Varrick go over for a ‘friendly’ visit,” Olson offered.

Aaren shook his head quickly. “No!”

Olson scowled. “Aaren. It’s not safe for you there. Damn it! We should’ve vetted that alpha before you went and moved in with him. We should’ve at least met him first.”

“I’ll go punch,” Rex growled.

Aaren grimaced. “No, just... stay out of it. I can handle it.”

Neither Rex nor Olson thought he could. But Aaren hadn’t shown any signs of being beaten. Olson had tried to examine him discreetly; he’d shared with Rex that he’d found no bruises.

Olson was on the verge of doing something, though. Rex could feel it in his bones.

It didn’t seem fair that Aaren had gotten tangled up with some jerkface alpha. Rex liked Aaren; Aaren was friendly and patient when Rex asked with broken sentences to modify his lunch order. But Rex also remembered Jag telling him—if an omega said no, then he wasn’t allowed to proceed.

He wondered if Jag knew about Aaren’s circumstances.

Olson sighed heavily. “Well, you know who to talk to if you need an ear. I have resources, Aaren. All you have to do is ask.”

Aaren nodded miserably, shooting a longing look at Rex’s hand on Olson’s waist.

Rex felt sorry for him. He left Olson briefly, ducking behind the bar to where Emmy kept a stash of his butt blessings—One for $5, Three for $10. Guaranteed to bring your butt many blessings!

Rex plucked one from the pile and returned to the kitchen, handing it to Aaren.

Aaren sighed. “I don’t think those work.”

Rex shook his head. “This one work.”

Aaren wrinkled his nose, but he slipped it into his apron pocket. “Thanks.”

Rex squirmed in the waiting room of the prenatal clinic. It was their first time here; the walls were filled with rainbow murals and happy animals in pastel colors, and one other couple shared the room with them. In the background, a lullaby played softly.

“Hey,” Olson murmured, squeezing Rex’s hand. “It’s okay.”

Maybe it was the scent of disinfectant—different from the one that haunted Rex’s nightmares, but it smelled similar enough that the hairs on his neck stood on end.

Or maybe it was the way the receptionist had been all cheerful, speaking slightly too fast for Rex to catch everything she said.

He felt clumsy with his words today, more than other days. “I... I not... speaking good.”

Would the doctor hear the first sentence out of Rex’s mouth, and say he was going to be a terrible dad? Gods knew Rex had been trying to put more words together. He’d practiced.

But words were slippery sometimes, worse when he was nervous. More than once, Rex had spoken to someone at the grocery store, or at the park, only for them to frown and ask him to repeat himself.

He knew he didn’t fit in; he knew he wasn’t like other alphas, other more capable alphas. And places like the clinic, where no one knew him, made speaking even more difficult.

“You don’t have to speak if you don’t feel like it,” Olson said firmly. “And if they can’t respect your words, we’ll go somewhere else.”

Rex sighed. “I don’t want... be bur—burden.”