“It’s actually true,” Wesley whispered. He blinked and then stared at Jobe. “I’m pregnant?”
Jobe smiled at the sweet picture Wesley made. A tall, broad, muscular wolf shifter with an attitude that screamed “I’m in charge” suddenly looking like a small kitten. “We’ll call the doctor and get you checked out, but you can’t actually think this is the flu.” Unable to stay away from the evidence of their future, Jobe reached under the blanket and caressed Wesley’s belly. “Your birthing skin is already stretching and thinning. Have you felt how hot it is?”
“I always thought that was a scar or a defect of some sort. You’re saying it’s meant to be there?”
Jobe reared back in shock. “You thought your birthing skin was a defect?”
“I didn’t know that’s what it was.” Wesley stared up at the ceiling. “Nobody knew. That skin is the reason Purple Sky didn’t want me as their Alpha. They think it means I’m not whole, not strong.”
“You’re not only an Alpha but you’re also a Psi. Your birthing skin absorbs my seed so a pup can grow inside you and then, when it’s time, that same skin becomes translucent enough for the pup to come out.” Jobe shook with fury. “You can lead a pack and grow it, Wes. That’s more than whole. It’s incredible. There’s no wolf stronger than you.”
Wesley stayed quiet for a few minutes, and Jobe welcomed the opportunity to find his center again. Hearing that his mate had been rejected tested Jobe’s emotional control but Wesley needed him to be calm and supportive so he refused to wallow in anger.
“How does it work?” Wesley said quietly. “I’m not a female, but if I’m pregnant, that means I’m not a male either, right? Males don’t give birth.”
“Psi males give birth. In ancient times, there were more Psis than there are now. We think that’s because Psis have a gestational period like our wolf halves—nine weeks—and females have a gestational period like our human halves—forty weeks. Shorter pregnancies mean more pups, so when Mother Nature wanted to increase the shifter population, Psis were the key. Our numbers are strong now so Psis are rarer, but Mother Nature still blesses us with them when they’re needed.” Jobe lay down, draped his leg over Wesley’s, and rubbed his palm up and down Wesley’s arm. “Like say, when a pack has to be led by a mated Alpha pair from a very specific family line and that Alpha is gay.”
“Huh,” Wesley huffed.
“What?”
“I’m completely oblivious.” Wesley shook his head. “I didn’t notice you were an Alpha, didn’t consider the possibility that you were actually my mate, and didn’t stop to think that if neither of us could give birth, then in one generation, Red River would be left without a Root to lead.”
Jobe was willing to admit that he had been at fault for Wesley not knowing he was an Alpha because he didn’t have a scent and Wesley hadn’t seen him in shifted form. He was also willing to take responsibility for Wesley’s confusion about them being mates, even though it had seemed reasonable to assume that telling Wesley he was coming to Red River as Jobe’s mate would have been enough for Wesley to understand that fact. But no matter how he considered the Psi confusion, Jobe couldn’t see how he was to blame for a grown man not knowing something so fundamental about himself.
Regardless, he was driven to do anything possible to comfort his mate so he said, “We could have used a surrogate to carry a baby.”
“That’s true.” Wesley nodded. “But I didn’t think about that. I didn’t consider succession at all.”
“You had a lot on your mind.”
“A good Alpha would have put the pieces together sooner.” Wesley sounded despondent. “Purple Sky was right to turn me away. Thankfully you’re here to stop me from doing too much damage in Red River.”
“Hey.” Jobe cupped his mate’s chin and looked into his eyes. “You’re an Alpha, not a god. You put your pack above yourself and did anything you could to help them, even when you didn’t understand it and it could have been at your own peril. Any pack would be lucky to call you Alpha, and this pack knows it.”
Wesley’s eyes glistened. “There’s nothing I can do that’ll make you admit I’ve been screwing this up from day one, is there?”
“You haven’t screwed anything up.” Jobe pulled Wesley closer to him.
“Maybe it’s good Purple Sky didn’t want me.” Wesley reached for Jobe’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “Because I’m supposed to be here with you.”
“That you are.” Jobe squeezed his hand.
“Try to remember that when my vomiting wakes you up again tomorrow.”
Wesley’s voice shook, his skin was still paler than usual, and his forehead was creased with worry, but despite all of that, he was making a joke. Jobe’s admiration for his mate grew.