Chapter 2: Doctors Orders

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The crew on the vessel were roughly two days into their voyage across storm-tossed waters when everything went to hell. Between scrambling to repair one of their ripped sails, the sheer strength of the waves tossing them around, and the fact, they were a day off-course. They were borderline exhausted.

If that wasn't bad enough, the physician knocked on his cabin door and informed him there'd been an unforeseen development with the prisoner. "Uh...Captain? I think we might have a small problem."

"How bad is it?" Miguel asked worriedly.

"I think you should see for yourself."

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Perplexed by the doctor's choice of words, Miguel headed down to the brig and peered into the cell where they were holding their commander's unruly son for the time being.

The captain's face drained of color.

Robby was lying curled up on the small mattress, arms around his midsection and shaking like a leaf. They could see the sweat droplets on his forehead, which didn't bode well for the rest of the crew, even from a distance.

"Is it the fever?" Miguel asked solemnly.

Rumors of a mysterious new sickness had been spreading around the coast for weeks, and it had a high mortality rate. If their prisoner was infected, he could have already spread it to the crew, and they could all very well die.

The physician looked at him with bemusement in the depths of his eyes. "I'm afraid you've misjudged the situation, captain."

Miguel gave him an odd look.

"Your prisoner isn't sick — at least not in the clinical sense — he's in heat."

"He doesn't smell like he's in heat," the alpha sniffed the air.

The scent was vaguely sour.

"Pregnant omegas usually don't," the doctor stated curtly.

• • •


"This can't be happening," Miguel whispered in disbelief and pinched the bridge of his nose. He must have royally pissed someone off in a past life to deserve all these unforeseen problems thrown his way at one time.

He had ONE job.

Find their leader's wayward son and bring him home.

Instead, Miguel was coming back with a cranky omega, and surprise, he's pregnant.

"I can't believe no one even suspected the heir to the most formidable pirating operation was pregnant this whole time," the captain sighed warily.

The physician shook his head as he gazed over at the prisoner, who looked absolutely miserable on the worn-out mattress. "The only heir, our boy, is going to have to worry about is the one developing in his womb."

Miguel gave him a dirty look.

The captain had never been fond of alphas who thought of the fairer sex as little more than broodmares. An omegas sense of identity, hopes, and dreams weren't erased just because they had a life developing inside them.

"Is there anything you can do to help with the discomfort he's feeling?" Miguel decided to focus on figuring some way to ease the boy's artificial heat symptoms and the violent stomach cramping that accompanied it. "He looks like he's in pain."

"Unfortunately, I can't do much since his pregnancies too far along. Any medicine, tonics, or herbs I could prescribe him at this point might be detrimental to the health of the fetus."

"How far along is he?" the captain asked, dreading the answer.

The middle of the ocean was not the ideal place for a baby to be born.

~ ~ ~


"I wouldn't be shocked if he went into labor any day now."

Miguel felt the sudden, nearly overpowering urge to bang in his head against the iron bars of the cell. At least it explained why one of the fiercest fighters he'd ever met let himself be captured without a struggle.

Robby had chosen to willingly raise his hands and surrender when they surrounded him rather than risk his unborn baby's life. A smart decision on his part since their crew was known to fight dirty if the situation called for it.

After the boy's disappearance, there had been a ton of speculation about what had caused the prodigal son to run away. Everything from a secret lover to a childish temper tantrum after an argument with his father (those tended to get heated), or even just a teenage desire to seek out a different life.

• • •


Miguel felt uneasiness churn in his gut.

His crew hadn't mentioned him staying with anyone at the tavern, which meant he'd been there alone, and given the fact he was suffering from heat sickness despite having a baby in his womb, he obviously hadn't been claimed.

Miguel resisted the urge to snarl and instead took a couple of breaths to calm his agitated nerves. The thought of anyone abandoning the omega made his temper flare like a powder keg about to explode. Robby deserved better than to be impregnated by some random alpha who discarded him at the first sign of trouble.

No wonder the poor thing had run.

He'd probably been so confused, hurt, and overwhelmed.

~ ~ ~

A sudden thought occurred to him as he stared through the bars of the cell, and he felt his stomach drop. Robby didn't look anywhere close to eight months pregnant.

"Why is his stomach so small?" the question was bothering him.

"An omegas first child is usually pretty small, and with his narrow hips, that's probably a blessing in disguise. I already concluded my preliminary check-up and his unborn babies developing as well as can be expected under these conditions."

Miguel didn't like the sound of that.

The doctor saw his expression. "Robby has abnormally small hips and a narrow pelvis for one his kind. Even if we're lucky enough not to have any complications and everything goes as planned, it's not going to be an easy birth."

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