The Alien Prince’s Omega by Lorelei M. Hart
Hanson
“Your sweet girl is perfectly fine,”I reassured Astor, who’d just brought in a stray. It was his second one, the first living her best life as his inn’s mascot.
“Are you sure? She’s been hanging around my place, but I thought she was just a wanderer and didn’t pay it much mind… well, some mind because she’s so incredibly sweet, but you know.” He reached down to pet her. “But she’s been whining outside the window lately and the sound was different somehow and… are you sure?” And that right there was why he was both a good cat dad and a great father. He noticed little changes others might not.
“She’s fine aside from no chip. Nothing about her says she has a home.” And my gut said that was intentional thanks to the news I was about to give him. “But in another week or so she won’t be the only new cat at your place.” He tilted his head in confusion and I could see the moment it clicked.
“Oh. Babies. What do I do for her?” We spent the next half hour planning for her impending motherhood, from how to introduce her to Tiger Lily, who I was sure already liked her given that they talked to each other through the open window, down to giving her a place to feel safe giving birth and what to do when the birthing began, including calling me. By the time he left, I was confident he felt comfortable with all the knowledge and excited to go home and tell his mate about the exciting news.
I started to close up for the day. He was technically after hours, but I never had the heart to turn away a patient, especially when someone was willing to help a stray. Unfortunately, this place had their fair share of them. People would get a cat for their summer place and then just leave it. It was part of the reason most days I loved animals more than people.
How can you have a fur baby and just leave it?
Babies. My mind kept wandering back to them, and not the ones the sweet cat was about to give birth to. No. Mine was wandering back to a babe that couldn’t be and yet was as real as I was.
Every night for over a month, when I fell into a deep enough sleep to dream, I dreamed the same thing. I’d be lying on the softest bed I could even imagine, my heart filled with a contentment I’d never experienced in real life. In my arms I held a babe who suckled at my chest, happy sighs between each suck.
He was my child and I loved him so completely. Only he couldn’t be mine. He wasn’t human, and not like in a shifter way. I’d treated enough shifters to know their babies were not born with a blue hue. Not oxygen-deprived and dying blue, either. Closer to a neon blue with warm undertones. He very much wasn’t from this world.
Not that I cared even one iota. He was absolutely perfect exactly as he was, blue and all.
I was happier there in that dream than I’d ever been in my waking hours, and I was already a happy guy with a very happy life. This was just different somehow. More… I guess was the best way to put it.
And each morning I woke up in a sort of mourning, missing him so terribly it was hard to breathe. And the kicker? I should see someone about it, get some help to break this cycle, but the longing to see him again was what got me through each day, and the thought of intentionally taking that from myself—it was too much to bear.
So just like I did every evening, I rushed through dinner and climbed into bed to see my baby. It wasn’t healthy. I understood this, but it was like I was being beckoned from elsewhere and it was almost beyond my control.
I closed my eyes and counted myself to sleep.
And just like every night, I woke up with my sweet baby in my arms, only this time something was different. Something was off, tainted even.
“Who’s there?” I called out, sensing a presence I never had before, one that was far from comforting, but also not dangerous.
“You are dealing well with your preparations, I see,” she said in a stilted voice, as if she weren’t human but also not a computer.
I couldn’t see her, not her face or her hands. She was in a cloak like you’d see in old movies as they ran through the moors, the hood pulled down enough to block her face, her hands tucked in the sleeves.
“I’m tired.” What was I saying? She didn’t need to know anything about me. “I mean who are you?” I fortified my voice.
“My identity is of no consequence. Just know this: He will be there soon and you will once again sleep in peace.”
And just like that, she was gone and I was wide awake, tears pooling on my arms as my baby was once again yanked from me.
But he was coming. The weird lady in the cloak who came into my dream said so. And that was what had happened. This dream was different, not just because of her being there. No, it was different because she was real. I knew that in my core. Whomever that woman was, she’d come to visit me and let me know my baby was coming.
And more than anything, I wanted to believe her.