"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" Taylor says, scooting closer to me and wrapping a blanket around both of our shoulders. It helps to shield us from some of the cold spring air, making me relax next to my friend.

"Well, um, I wanted to ask, um, how-how this whole baby thing is going to work," I stammer, gesturing at myself. The baby gives a few strong kicks, making me wince slightly and put my hand on my stomach to try and sooth the baby's motions. At least he is not kicking my bladder yet. He will probably decide to do that once I am comfortable in my sleeping bag and almost asleep.

Taylor lets out a quiet chuckle before turning to look at me. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me against his side.

"You're wondering how it's going to come out, aren't you?" he questions.

Nodding my head, I refuse to look at the omega sitting next to me. The farther I get along in my pregnancy, the more I begin to question my own biology. What little Luna told me barely made sense to me, and now I have to try and grasp how my body is planning on delivering the baby. It terrifies me.

"Hey," Taylor says, covering one of my hands with his own. Reluctantly, I look up and meet his eyes. I can tell that he knows what I am feeling, the worry and understanding evident in the way he is looking at me. "It will be okay."

"How?" I say, my voice quavering. Clutching the blanket closer to my body, I try to stop the tears that are threatening to spill over. Taylor's arm tightens around me before he pats my leg in an effort to comfort me.

"Our bodies are unique," the omega says in a reassuring voice. "Even though we are males, our bodies find a way to adjust to the life growing inside of us."

Looking over at my friend, I see the sadness covering his face. I wrap my own arm around his waist and lean my head on his shoulder, silently comforting him. Terrible things happened to him while he was held captive by the Alphas, but he has been reluctant to share exactly what he went through, which is understandable. He still wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming from his nightmares, and if he happens to see something that reminds him of his captivity, he will collapse into a full blown panic attack.

"It's kind of difficult to explain how the baby will come out." The sadness on his face has been replaced by a forced smile, but I remain silent, allowing him to carry on with his explanation. "You can't have the baby like a woman would, obviously. When the baby gets close to coming, the skin right here," he points to the area between my hips, right where my stomach begins to curve, "is going to become very thin. It will make it easy for me to cut and take the baby out. It heals relatively quickly, only taking about a day or so for the skin to stitch itself back together."

"How do you know all of this?" I hesitantly ask, already having a slight idea.

Taylor does not say anything for a couple of minutes. Lifting my head from his shoulder, I see silent tears streaking down his face. He does not make a move to wipe them off, so I carefully reach up and dab them away with the edge of the blanket.

"T-They took her away from me," he says, breaking the silence we had been sitting in. "I d-didn't ev-ven get to h-hold her." He roughly wipes at his running nose, still refusing to look away from the bright orange flames of the fire in front of us. "She was t-too early, b-but that's w-what happens when you're b-beaten regularly."

"How far along?" I whisper.

"Almost five months," he responds. The light from the moon reflects off of his tears and allows me to see how emotionally exhausted he is from this conversation.

"I'm so sorry." I lay my head back on his shoulder and allow myself to be thankful for what I have, even if it is not much. Even though I am scared of what is to come in the next couple of months, I know that Taylor has been through much worse.

The baby starts moving again, and I gently grab Taylor's hand and place it on my stomach. He stays silent for a while, but I know he can feel the movements. My skin is stretching from the baby's kicks, and even though it is uncomfortable, I can tell it is helping Taylor to relax. With every kick, his shoulders release some of the tension they are holding, and the tears slowly stop falling.

"We have to be careful, Liam. If they find us..." he does not finish his sentence, but I understand what he means. If they find us, my baby will be killed, just like his, and we will be used for their own desires.

"I know." My body sags with exhaustion. We have been hiking through these dense forests for weeks. There are only ten or so more weeks until the baby is here, and my body has been changing with every passing day. My back is sore most of the time, and all the walking and added pressure from the supplies I have been carrying has not been helping with the pain.

"Let's go to bed. We're both exhausted. I can ask you the rest of my questions tomorrow," I say, trying to lift myself up from the ground.

"I'm going to let them get some more sleep before I wake them up, but you can go to bed." Taylor is still hurt from our earlier conversation, and I do not want him to stew in his emotions. Something could be standing only a foot away from him, and he would not even notice because he would be so lost in his own tangled thoughts.

Sighing, I stop struggling to stand, instead leaning back against Taylor and try to absorb any extra warmth he is giving off. I have some more questions I need answering anyways.

"What about feeding the baby?" I question, genuinely curious as to how we would find enough formula to keep the baby healthy.

"You will produce your own milk, Liam, that is why your breasts have been so sore." I turn my head so fast to look at him, that I would not be surprised if I got whiplash.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Taylor just raises an eyebrow at me before nodding his head at my chest. Looking down, I see that my hands are subconsciously massaging my chest. I had not even noticed that I was doing that. Honestly, I just though my chest was hurting from a pulled muscle or something.

"I can produce my own milk? But men don't even have milk glands," I say exasperatedly.

The shirt I am wearing is completely stretched out, and it is not even mine. Erik gave it to me the other day when he saw me pulling at the uncomfortable tightness of my own. At least it smells like my mates, that is a huge comfort. It is just stretched uncomfortably across my chest, tight against my sensitive nipples and pectorals.

"All of us have milk glands, no matter our gender. It isn't uncommon for males to produce milk even when they are not pregnant- even male humans can- so it isn't too much of a surprise that you will be able to feed your baby," the other omega says, a hint of humor in his voice. "The massaging you have been doing is your body's way of stimulating the mild glands. All the stimulation will allow milk to come through once the baby is here."

"B-but," I stammer, unable to form a sentence. Reluctantly, I pull my hands away from my aching chest and slouch against Taylor's side.

"You'll see when the baby comes," he says.

We sit in silence for a while, just listening to the owls and the frogs. Their sounds add a level of comfort to the atmosphere. They usually notice something before we do, so if they are making noises, they must deem the area safe.

"You should really go to bed. I can feel you falling asleep against me," Taylor says, gently pulling the both of us up without dropping the blanket. He helps me to the tent, giving me a brief kiss on the cheek before zipping up the flap and returning to the warmth of the fire.

Without hesitation, I kick off my shoes and climb into my sleeping bag. Olive and Grace are fast asleep, neither of them moving as I slip in beside them. All of us are exhausted and in desperate need of a place to stay for longer than a night. Spring is in the air, but the cold winds and harsh rains still make it feel like the middle of winter. If we do not find a place soon, I will be forced to have this baby in the middle of the forest, where it is unsanitary and we are exposed to everything dangerous.

"Stop worrying and go to sleep," a deep voice says from beside me. Cracking an eye open, I see Ethan watching me. "You need it, both of you do."

I know he is right, but it does not help me to rid the thoughts running through my mind. Eventually, I am able to fall asleep but am woken every two hours by the kicking coming from inside me. After going to the bathroom for the third time due to direct kicks to my bladder, I sag into my sleeping bag in exhaustion. I cannot wait until the baby is born.