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Servas cleared his throat. “Erm, guys?”

Isam dragged his eyes away. One look at Servas had him worried, but then he saw his glassy eyes and realized the truth. His mate’s heat had started.

He threw his head back and laughed, then rose as he picked his omega up and held him to his chest. “Come on, mates, let’s go have ourselves some spectacular sex.”

And so they did.

EPILOGUE

Two Years Later

Servas gave the nail a last whack, then took a step back and inspected his handiwork with a satisfied smile. There, perfect.

“It looks amazing, baby,” Mostyn said, stepping up behind Servas and wrapping his hands around him to rest them on his protruding belly.

With a happy sigh, Servas leaned back into him. Mostyn was tactile, more than Servas and Isam, and Servas had come to revel in the constant touches, as if Mostyn literally couldn’t bear not touching his mates. “I’m happy with how the baby’s room turned out.”

“You’d better be,” Mostyn said, chuckling. “It took you long enough to make up your mind.”

The beta was never one to mince words, but Servas appreciated his candor. Most of the time. “That’s my prerogative as a pregnant omega. If you have any objections, you can file them with Sivney. Pretty sure we both know how that will end.”

Sivney had only become more impressive once named second-in-command of the Hightower pack—and how proud Servas had been that a fellow omega had risen to that position.

Mostyn gave a dramatic shudder. “Yeah, no, but thanks. I’ll hold my tongue.”

“That’s too bad because I really like your tongue,” Servas quipped.

Mostyn snorted. “I noticed that earlier this morning when I was eating you out.”

Like many pregnant omegas, Servas had become horny during his pregnancy—one aspect his mates had not complained about. His nausea and tiredness had been less pleasant, but those had been mostly done by his second half. With only four more weeks to go, he’d been officially placed on leave.

Mostyn held him a little tighter. “I can’t wait for the baby to arrive,” he said, much softer now.

“Me either. And I’m so glad you’ll know what to do.”

Mostyn had started his training as a nurse practitioner, specializing in obstetrics for obvious reasons. He’d attended several births now, which gave Servas confidence that if things went fast—like they had with Vieno his first time and with Sivney when Abigail had been born—at least Mostyn would know what to do.

“Me too. It’s the most amazing thing to witness, and it’ll be even more special when it’s our son.”

Servas was carrying an alpha son, of course, as had become practically pack tradition by now. Servas would never understand how a big, imposing alpha like Isam could look so damn adorable while gazing at the ultrasound pictures of his alpha heir. Isam had been all teary-eyed, and he’d thanked Servas for days on end, as if Servas had personally ensured their baby was an alpha boy. It had been magic, like so much of what had happened.

“It makes me so happy that you consider him your son,” Servas whispered. He hadn’t taken it for granted, knowing that the baby shared no DNA with Mostyn.

“Honestly, I had expected it to take more time, to have some initial reservations, but I loved him from the first time I saw him on the monitor.”

Omegas might not have it easy, but neither did betas. Servas had gained a whole new appreciation for the complicated in-between status betas held, even more so since so much had changed.

They were in a different pack now, the Hightower pack, and even sort of in a clan. After everything they had been through, Fate had not been done throwing surprises their way and had delivered dragons. Freaking dragons, for crying out loud. Servas had thought wolf shifters were the biggest miracle ever, but Fate had said, “Hold my beer.” And now they had dragons in their pack, and a whole lot of them too.

Mostyn let go of Servas and stepped close to the picture Servas had just hung. Tracing the charcoal pencil drawing of a wolf puppy with a finger, he said, “This really is extraordinary.”

“Leon is so talented.”

Leon was a dragon, a shy, young omega who was perpetually scared to take up space. By pure accident, they had discovered he was an artist. As soon as he’d seen some of Leon’s drawings, Servas had asked him to draw a wolf puppy. Leon had seemed stunned if not shocked that Servas had asked him, and when Isam, Mostyn, and Servas had praised him to the high heavens for his drawing, he’d been close to tears. They had been through hell, those omegas, and Servas had never been prouder of his pack for taking them all in—even if it had come at a cost.

The front door opened and Servas recognized his other mate by his heavy footsteps—boots on a hardwood floor. “We’re in the baby’s room,” he called out to Isam, who walked in moments later.

Damn, the man always looked so fucking hot in his guard uniform. Something about that all-black getup just did it for Servas.