The brave front he's putting up breaks my heart a little.
Luther sits directly beside us, close enough that his presence envelops both Blake and me in the comforting scent of leather and musk. Maceo settles across from us at the kitchen table,Luca immediately moving over to crawl into the Gamma’s lap, seeking the comfort and security that physical contact provides.
"Quentin gave us some preliminary results that might explain what you've been feeling," Luther begins. "However, it's not as simple as taking some medication like we've done for your heart issues in the past. This is something different entirely."
Blake frowns, his body tensing against mine as he prepares himself for bad news.
"As much as I wanted to wait and discuss this with you," Luther continues, "Quentin said that the fluctuations in your health don't give us the luxury of time. Your biology is changing, Blake, morphing between Omega and Beta designations."
Blake's breathing shortens, becoming a little shallower as he processes the information. The trembling in his body intensifies, and I run my hands up and down his arms in an attempt to soothe him.
"Quentin mentioned a designation called Delta," Luther explains. "While he assured us that there's nothing inherently wrong with that designation, your body is being pulled in multiple directions right now. You're susceptible to Luca's pregnancy pheromones, which are trying to push you into a heat cycle, while simultaneously your biology is attempting to complete the transition to Delta."
Blake's voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, "What does that mean for me?"
Luther's expression grows even more serious, and I can see how much he hates having to deliver this news. "It means you might not be able to have children, Blake. If the Delta transition completes fully, you'll lose the ability to conceive or father biological children."
"Okay," Blake says simply, but his voice falls flat in a way that tells me he's not really processing the full implications of what he's just been told.
Luther leans forward, his eyes studying Blake's face. "Baby, look at me. I know you better than you know yourself sometimes. You are with your pack now. You are allowed to fall apart, to scream, to let me see what you're really thinking and feeling. You don't have to be strong all the time."
Blake just sits there in my arms, his body rigid with suppressed emotion. I can feel the war going on inside him, the part that wants to break down fighting against the part that's been trained to handle everything on his own.
"There's more, isn't there?" Blake finally asks.
Luther nods reluctantly. "You'll need us more than you have been - our knots, our biological support. But honestly, Blake, that's the easy part of this situation." His voice grows more urgent as he tries to break through Blake's emotional walls. "Baby, please talk to me. Tell me what's going on in your head right now."
8
Blake
I slip off Grayson's lap, my body feeling like it's simultaneously too hot and too cold all at once as I try to process the overwhelming scents filling the kitchen.
I can't have babies. I won't be able to have children.I’m not an Omega.
I blink back the tears that are threatening to spill over, trying to maintain some semblance of control even though I feel like I'm falling apart from the inside out. "What else did Quentin say?" My voice sounds strange to my own ears but I push past it.
Luther shakes his head. "He didn't say much during his visit, but he sent some comprehensive materials for us to read about Delta designations. I waded through a little bit of the information this morning, and if you really are presenting late like this, it seems like what you're experiencing now might be your last heat cycle. Blake, love, I know you don't like it when Ibeat around the bush, so I wanted to be completely honest with you."
I look over at Luca, who's curled in Maceo's lap watching this conversation with wide, concerned eyes. I spent years building a company, creating things that would last, trying to make my mark on the world in ways that I thought would matter. But the one thing I've always quietly wanted, the chance to create life with my pack, to raise children who would carry part of me into the future, is being taken away by my own biology.
I bite down on my bottom lip hard enough to taste copper, using the sharp pain to keep the tears from spilling over. "I'm okay," I mumble. "Do you have the materials Quentin sent? I want to read them myself. I just... I need a minute to process this."
Luther's eyes study my face as a small smile spreads across his lips, understanding blooming in his expression. "I'm not letting you go upstairs alone to spiral, but we don't have to talk about it right now if you're not ready. Come on, love."
I start marching up the stairs without waiting for the others, needing movement and space to breathe even though I know Luther is right behind me. Luca's sweet scent follows us up the staircase, mixing with Luther's leather and musk in a combination that should be comforting but feels overwhelming instead.
We pile back into the nest we hastily constructed yesterday, the blankets and pillows still holding the mingled scents of our pack from the night before. I settle in the middle, Luca sitting up in front of me and Luther lying behind me before handing me his phone, already having pulled up the article about Deltas.
I start reading, speeding through the basic definitional material about designations and diving straight into the sections about physiological changes. My eyes scan the clinical language, cataloging each piece of information like I'm reading a technicalmanual rather than a description of what's happening to my own body.
Inability to conceive or father children. Dimmer scent production compared to traditional Omegas. Increased possessiveness toward pack mates. More intuitive emotional processing. Reduced neediness and slick production during arousal cycles.
Each bullet point feels like another small death, another piece of who I thought I was being stripped away and replaced with something unfamiliar. I knew I probably wouldn't be able to have children because of my stress-related heart condition and the medications I've been taking for years. But this feels different, like my body is giving me a huge fuck you by taking away even the theoretical possibility.
Reading about myself like this feels surreal, like I'm studying someone else's medical case rather than my own transformation.
Luther wraps his arms tight around my stomach from behind, his larger frame curving protectively around mine as I continue reading. His nose traces along my neck, following the path to the claiming bite he placed there years ago.
