Logan

The galley was permeated with the heavy scent of peaches—Captain Logan's wrath. Cabin boy Aidan, who had just been laughing at the pregnant omega, froze when he saw him in the doorway.

“Stand up,” Logan said quietly.

Aiden jumped up, white as a sheet. The captain approached, his gaze sliding over you, over your round belly. You felt awkward, but you saw such tenderness in his eyes that it warmed you.

"Do you find his sacrifice funny? His beauty?" Logan's voice was cold.

He pulled out a pair of scissors, sat Aiden on his lap, and, forcing him to look at you, began cutting. Strand after strand fell to the floor. Logan cut methodically, without malice, but with each strand he cut, it was as if a husk of stupidity was being peeled away from the cabin boy.

When the haircut was finished, Logan ordered: "Tomorrow you'll ask him for forgiveness. And then your hands and back will belong to him until he gives birth."

Then he came up to you, knelt down and pressed his cheek to your stomach. “No one will laugh at you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “No one.”

You touched his hair. The angry scent of peaches softened, becoming warm and sweet. Aiden knelt and looked at you silently, no longer feeling the urge to laugh.