The first night after John’s unexpected return, Peter looked over every inch of the beta’s body. He kissed the skin that bore only the faint echoes of bruising, swept his fingers tenderly over the broken bones that were healing, touching everywhere he could to reassure himself that John was there and whole, even if he was broken.

And the man who had broken him would pay. Peter already had people searching while John rested. People who’d been instructed to burn down every last warehouse and dock Lake had so much as thought of conducting business in. Taking John, touching him, that was an act of war and it was one Peter was now free to fight and finish.

And he would. He would smoke Lake out like the rat he was and everyone who had ever given the Alpha shelter or so much as run an errand for him would pay and know it was because of the day they’d made a deal with the devil, however trite. Peter was no avenging angel. He was a demon and he would have his revenge on the man he’d called brother, the man who would die as his enemy, but for now, making sure that Lake was chased into hiding would have to be enough.

Toppling his empire, forcing him to run and hide and scurry into the dark little hole he deserved to rot in would have to be enough, until he could make good on what he should have done from the very beginning. It would have to be enough, because John needed him. Because John’s body was healing, but his spirit was fractured in ways that Peter feared all the love in the world couldn’t heal.

And then, those three little words the beta had whispered right before he fell asleep, if his fitful bouts of unconsciousness could even be called that. Peter, I’m pregnant.

Those words. What was he supposed to do with them? They were once the only words that could have made his life more complete than it already was with his mate in his arms, but now, all he could do was see it as a complication to John’s healing. It raised more questions.

Was that why Lake had released him? Was that why he had gone from torturing John to keeping him like a fucking bird in a cage, as if treating him with anything resembling decency made up for what he’d done?

The doctors said that beta pregnancies came with risks under normal circumstances. With the stress John had been under, physically and mentally, both he and the baby were at a much greater risk of complications. John wouldn’t hear any talk of it, and Peter was humoring him so as not to cause him even more stress, but he knew the time for living in denial was fading.

If John didn’t lose the baby naturally, the stress of the pregnancy could kill him. He might have survived Lake, but Peter was still in danger of losing him.

John knew. Of course he knew. He was too smart for his own damn good, and too stubborn to hear reason.

He slept for a week and little else, and Peter let him because as worried as he was, he could tell that being awake was overwhelming him. The questions from the police who were conveniently overlooking Peter’s own involvement in matters they would otherwise be very much interested in, because of the Romans.

After this shit, the score would be permanently in Jayce’s favor, but Peter didn’t care. He’d be the bastard’s personal hitman in return for everything he’d done to help get John back, and now to find Lake.

In the beginning, Peter had wanted to get a place in the country because he thought it would be better for John’s nerves, but the beta had quickly shot it down. He needed the bustle of the city, even if it was only a small one, and he was already talking about getting back to work. The only reason Peter didn’t shoot that down was because he knew John needed the distraction.

After the first week, he was moving around, doing things, being human, but Peter could tell he was just going through the motions. The months did little to change that. He was in therapy and made it clear he resented every minute of it, but on that point, Peter refused to compromise. His mate’s body was healing, and despite his attempts to pretend like he was recovering mentally, Peter knew him too well to believe it. He heard the sounds John made at night, the things he said in his sleep, the way he shuddered at every unexpected touch.

John wasn’t healing, he was burying everything, just like he always did. Now, he was just trying to bury it with work and his concerns about the pregnancy.

Peter hated himself for resenting his own child, and he knew if John had a clue what he was really thinking, his mate would hate him as well. He would have every right to, but he couldn’t help it. That baby was a threat to John’s life, and the beta refused to hear or even acknowledge it, like if he just put off the discussion for long enough, they wouldn’t ever have to have it.

Peter already knew what it was like to lose him. It wasn’t something he was going to go through again. Not for Lake, not for this baby, not for anyone. He felt like he was at war for and against his mate, when all he wanted was to be close to John. He felt it pushing them further apart, and he was torn between his duty to protect his mate and his duty to support him.

That night, he chose a ceasefire and hoped the takeout from John’s favorite chain would be enough of a peace offering after their last circular argument about the baby. An argument that had only ended because Peter knew the stress was worse for him. He knew how John was going to be looking at him even before he walked through the door and he chose not to look back. The beta wanted this to be over, and for that, John couldn’t blame him. But he also couldn’t let Lake get away with what he’d done. He couldn’t take the risk that the Alpha would change his mind and come after them again like he’d done before.

What John didn’t understand—what he couldn’t possibly understand, because he was decent and pure, no matter how strong he was—was that they would only be safe while Lake was on the run. There was no forgiveness. There was only who lived and who lost.

It was a world Peter had tried to protect him from in vain, one that had almost killed him. One that would never touch him again.

“Hungry?” Peter asked, hoping to prevent a continuation of their argument with small talk.

“Not really,” John murmured. He’d been sick a lot, which wasn’t a good sign, according to the doctor. Minimizing stress was supposed to help, but how were they supposed to do that when the biggest cause of stress was the pregnancy itself?

“The meds aren’t helping?”

“Not so much,” John answered, reaching for plates in the cabinet. His stiff tone was customary those days. Their relationship was the only good thing in Peter’s life, but it had always been more tension than romance, and for that, he had only himself to blame. In the beginning, even his cover job had caused friction, but he’d never been able to justify pretending that he was just some schmuck working a decent nine-to-five. Then, it had been the “affair.” Now, it was the baby. There was always something.

Peter always found a way to fuck something up. To hurt John in an attempt to keep him safe. If he stopped trying, he’d lose him. If things kept going the way they were, he’d lose him in a different way. There was no winning, there was only struggling day to day, getting by with fragile tolerance. The happy moments seemed to exist only as punctuation to the fighting, and the silence, which was even worse. Every kiss was a comma, a pause just long enough to catch his breath before the fighting started again. The rare occasion they made love was a full stop, but the tension always began again. Peter’s life was starting to feel like a run-on sentence, words rushing forward off the cliff of an abrupt end that would leave them both unsatisfied.

At least when John was yelling at him, he could feel the fire he needed to melt the solid ice of his soul. He’d been so close to changing, for John, and the beta’s love had made him certain he could actually do it. Now, he wasn’t sure he could be anything other than angry. If he didn’t kill for the job, he was going to kill because he fucking had to. Because every heart he stopped was a piss poor substitute for Lake’s, but it was enough to keep him sane.

Just barely enough, but enough.

They ate in silence, which had become the evening routine. John seemed to want to say something. Every time Peter looked up, which was often, the beta looked away.

He finally spoke, his words softer than Peter had expected. “I finally got the website up.”

“Yeah?” Peter asked, eager to talk about anything other than one of the usual triggers. “That’s great. Any traffic yet?”

“Not yet, but I still haven’t put the listing up,” he said, picking through his pork fried rice. “I figure I can just take remote jobs for a while, until…” He trailed off, like he knew adding on “until the baby’s born” was going to start another fight. “There’s a lot I don’t have to do in person. People who need help researching, reporting an online stalker, that kind of thing.”

“That’s good,” Peter said, combing through every word and planning his tone before he spoke. He wasn’t cut out for this. Being a partner. A mate. He always had been better at killing people than talking to them, and while John was a emotionally stalwart as any Alpha, it was still so easy to say the wrong thing. To hurt him without meaning to. “I know you’re eager to get back to it.”

“I’m not cut out for sitting around and not doing anything. Especially after…” He trailed off again. “It’ll just be good to get back to work.”

Peter took a drink, then another. He didn’t trust himself to get drunk, because the last thing John needed was dealing with a lush on top of everything else, but God, he wished his soda was whiskey. “I’m sure. You know, if you want, I’m sure Jayce’s mate could help out with the whole web thing.”

John swallowed, and Peter could tell he was chewing on his words. “I appreciate everything Jayce did, but I’d rather limit my involvement with the Romans.”

“Yeah. I get it.” Peter cleared his throat. When had every conversation become a landmine?

Oh, right. When he’d blurted out to John that he didn’t want their baby. It had pretty much all been downhill from there, but he couldn’t bring himself to take back those words. He couldn’t force himself to want something that was killing his mate, even if it was once all he’d ever dreamed of.

“Peter,” John began and seemed to regret it as soon as the Alpha’s name crossed his lips. He winced. “Nothing.”

“What is it?” Peter pleaded, reaching to take John’s hand. To his surprise, the beta didn’t pull it away. “Talk to me, baby. Please.”

John frowned, staring down at their hands and holding Peter’s a little tighter, like he was afraid if he said the words out loud, he was going to lose it. “I have an appointment tomorrow. I just…I was hoping you would come.”

The fear in John’s voice was a punch in the gut. Like he thought he was bothering Peter by asking. Like there was any place the Alpha could ever want to be more, if this was a normal pregnancy and he wasn’t watching it drain what little energy his recovering mate had day by day. He swallowed hard, but the hatred he felt for himself wouldn’t go down easy.

“Of course I’ll go,” he said stiffly, holding John’s hand just as tight. He had to choose his words carefully. So carefully. Every one was a bomb that would ignite with the wrong tone, the wrong intonation, putting even more rubble in between them. “You know I would want this if…”

He couldn’t. There was no way to finish that sentence without hurting John, because it was fucked from the very beginning. I would want this.

And he did. He wanted it so fucking bad his soul felt like it was being ripped in half, but he wanted John alive and safe and well more than he wanted the perfect family he had never even allowed himself to believe was a possibility.

“I know.” To his surprise, the beta’s words were sad, not angry. It was so much worse.

Why couldn’t he just be angry?

Then, he smelled the tears. Fresh salt, filling John’s brown eyes but not brimming over them. He could tell John was trying to keep them from falling. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He put his hand up against John’s cheek. He was always flushed, always slightly feverish.

“I just miss you,” he whispered, like he wasn’t sure of his voice. He leaned into Peter’s touch and the Alpha’s heart ripped that last bit.

Peter was on his feet, pulling John into his arms the next instant. He took care not to crush him the way he wanted to. He’d never wanted to let John go. If it wasn’t for some bullshit called life, he never would.

“I fucking miss you, too,” Peter said, his teeth gritted and his heart pounding. He cradled John’s head in the crook of his neck, his arms wrapped around the beta’s lean body, less so now that his belly was a little soft. The changes that should have filled Peter’s heart with joy just seemed to mark another step toward the thing he feared most. The only thing he had ever truly feared at all. “So much.”

John pulled away and the way the beta was looking at him, his gaze full of the same hesitation and love and doubt Peter felt on a daily basis, made it clear he wasn’t the only one trying to navigate the minefield. When John kissed him, he felt right in a way he hadn’t in months.

He knew it wouldn’t last. The fighting wasn’t over, and the danger was far from passed, but he was going to drag this pause out for as long as he possibly could. John’s mouth opened for his access, and the beta tasted like every good memory and sweet thing he’d ever known. He felt like home under Peter’s fingertips, a state of knowing and belonging and goodness beyond any physical destination. John was his home, and as he unwrapped the other man’s body, unpacking every discarded memory he’d stowed away under the beta’s skin, he swore he was never going to leave again.

John’s nails scraped his skin, pulling his shirt down, peeling it off his back. His abs ground up against the beta’s softness, his hips pinning John’s back against the counter. The beta’s belt jingled as he tore it open, tugged the zipper down, and slipped his hands under the waistband of John’s boxers just to watch the look on his face as he was touched. His pupils widened like a black hole in a dark chocolate galaxy flecked with golden stars and his lips parted ever so slightly as Peter gripped him.

The Alpha’s hand wrapped around the back of his lover’s head, needing to hold him and observe every expression and movement as he tugged John’s boxers down and started stroking him fast. Fast, then slow, then hard, just the way he liked. John tried to look away from him, his face flushed with embarrassment, but Peter’s hand softly fisted his hair to keep him looking straight ahead. “I want to see your face when you come for me,” he whispered.

Those dark eyes widened even more with understanding, with lust as he unfastened Peter’s jeans. His lashes lowered as he looked down, freeing the Alpha’s shaft, pushing the hard, pulsing length of it up against his own. Peter pushed up against him, grinding their sex together and hardening at the way it made John’s eyes flutter shut. The moan on his lips, the sweat on his brow, the way he gripped Peter’s shoulders as the Alpha’s thrusts bent him back over the counter.

All of a sudden, the thirst took over and Peter pulled away just to drop to his knees. He took John into his mouth and felt the beta’s cock throb against his tongue. He was so ready, so close, and Peter wanted to taste him.

Taste him, fuck him, grind up against him until there was no separation. John was his, and in the struggle to keep him, he’d forgotten just what it felt like. How good it felt to know this man moaned and shook and came for him, only for him.

John gasped, his whole body trembling and quaking as he filled Peter’s throat with his pleasure and the Alpha drank him up greedily. The beta was still catching his breath and still hard as Peter pinned him again, kissing him hard, making him taste how sweet he was.

When John pushed him away, the look in his eyes made it clear it wasn’t because he was done. He took Peter’s hand, pulled him toward the bedroom, and dragged the Alpha down on him. Peter was already locked and loaded as he drove into his mate’s body, pushing in until his knot was up against John’s entrance, stretching him, and the beta’s thighs were pressed tightly against his hips.

He wanted to be gentle, but John was challenging him with every touch, every scratch of his nails and every nip of his teeth against the Alpha’s neck, as if reminding him he wasn’t so fragile after all. Peter’s hips jutted forward, hitting that spot that made John produce the most incredible sounds. Cries, moans, desperate pleas for more.

He wanted to give it to him. Everything. His seed, his heart, his frustration, his love, all the things he’d held back for so long, all the things that had piled up between them. The distance was gone now, and while John’s own frustration with his mate’s stubbornness showed in the way he clawed Peter’s back for more, his love showed in his gaze and bled through his kiss.

Peter’s knot drove in and John came again, clenching and tightening around him. Peter fucked him deep and hard until he was breathless, until he was wrapped around the Alpha’s body like a coil. As Peter’s orgasm drew another scream of ecstasy from his mate, they collapsed in one breathless heap, but neither of them loosened their grip on the other.

Nothing had changed. None of their problems had gone away, and yet as Peter held him that night, knowing the bittersweet pain the morning would bring, he actually felt like he could face it. He had John now.

He was here. He was safe. He was his.

He was home.