“In alphas,” he continued, “it increases possessiveness, and in omegas,” he added, watching my face closely, “it encourages compliance. Nesting. The urge to care for others. Emotional dependence. The clinic isveryinterested in that response.”
Of course they were.
“They offered me a deal,” Logan went on, as if he were talking about a business lunch. “They promised to help me get you pregnant and keep you pregnant as many times as I wanted.”
My chest tightened.
“But only if I allowed them to test a new compound,” he said. “The one that exaggerates visible pregnancy markers.”
He gestured openly at my body.
“They need real-world data,” he said. “Not simulations. And no one wanted to volunteer for their program.”
His fingers tightened around mine in my lap.
“But, I couldn’t see it going badly.” Logan continued. “It doesn’t touch the babies. It only amplifies outward presentation. You know, tissue growth, fluid retention, abdominal expansion. And all I can think about is how much harder that would make it for you to run from me.”
I looked down at my stomach again, suddenly way more repulsed than I had been.
“The doctor advised me to keep you under for the first few days, something about the initial growth potentially being painful, and they were right.”
The pressure inside me shifted again and a sharp wave of nausea climbed up my throat. I made a small, broken sound before I could stop it.
Logan’s grip on my hands tightened.
“Easy,” he murmured, pleased more than concerned. “I know. I know it's uncomfortable, but you look so beautiful right now, Violet.”
Beautiful.I gagged so violently I curled in on myself.
“Ahhht, no slouching, it will make it worse,” Logan coached.
He slid his hands under my arms and forced me straighter before I could curl in on myself again. The movement stretched my abdomen tight as a drum. Tears steamed down my face as I tried to grip my teeth through the discomfort.
“That’s it,” he murmured, misreading everything. “Deep breaths.”
I tried, I really did. But it felt like there wasn’t enough room inside me for my lungs to properly expand.
My hands shook as they hovered uselessly between us.
And that’s when I saw it on top of a shelf, way up high. Far too high for me to reach.
My bunny. The one that smelled like Vinny and always made me feel better.
My chest seized and I lifted one trembling hand to point before mouthingplease.
Logan followed my line of sight. His mouth curved faintly.
“Oh,” he said softly. “You want that?”
I nodded desperately.
The motion made the room spin again. I just wanted to feel better and I knew Vinny’s scent always did just that. Benji covered her in his scent, I needed my rabbit.
“Violet,” he sighed, almost indulgent. “You’re not a child. You don’t need stuffed toys.”
But I did. I needed her. I couldn’t remember exactly everything I read about bond rot, just that Vinny's pheromones would lessen the symptoms. I needed that.
I pointed at the stuffed animal again, but Logan didn’t even look. Instead he got out of bed before slipping his hands under my arms and pulling.