Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Was that good?” Nixon asks.
“So good,” I murmur.
“You want more?” Finn asks, easing it from between my legs.
“Maybe. Give me a few minutes. “
He chuckles, lowering the toy and placing it on the towel between my legs. I hang my head, letting my hair pool around me, imagining my sons making their way into the world, trying to picture the boys and wolves they will be. Will they be stoic and controlled like Nixon, funny and clever like Reed, or caring and insightful like Finn? Will they have my creativity, or my desire for adventure? Will they have my mom’s caution or my father’s fiery temperament? Maybe they’ll be unique: dreamers, poets, pioneers. Perhaps they’ll challenge the status quo like their sister.
As my belly contracts again, the movement and pressure between my legs intensifies. “Get Goldie,” I groan.
When she returns, Ahya is handed to Nixon, and she kneels behind me with her phone in hand. After two contractions, she declares, “The contractions are only a minute apart. She’s close and doing beautifully. “
“Where’s the damn midwife?” Nixon huffs.
“I’m here,” a breathless voice answers from the door.
Our wolf pack midwife, Annie, rushes in, her bag slung over one shoulder, followed by Caleb, who scoops Ahya into his arms. “I’ll take her for a while, until the babies are here.”
Nixon hands her over gratefully. It’s a whirlwind, and I’m at the center of the storm, keening lowly as the pressure crests into fire.
Annie’s instantly in motion, slipping beside Goldie, eyes sharp and sure as she glances over my trembling form. I’m so grateful Caleb chose her as his mate. It’s been such a blessing to have a friend take care of me throughout my pregnancy.
“You’re almost there,” she says. “Just a little more, Scarlet. You’re ready to push.”
I bear down with everything I have, breath held, body shuddering. Over and over, I work with the contractions, rocking with the pain as my wolves whisper words of encouragement and rub my back in circles that alleviate some of the pain.
Then the pressure breaks, replaced by a ripple of inferno, release, and the high, piercing cry of a newborn fills the air.
“One,” the midwife says with a soft smile. I look at the perfect baby resting between my legs. “A strong, healthy baby.”
But before I can fully register his presence, another contraction tightens in my core.
“The next one’s coming,” Goldie says gently. “One more, Scarlet.”
My head swims. I blink back tears, exhausted but incandescent. Reed strokes my arm. Finn kisses my shoulder. Nixon grips my hand, holding it to his chest like a lifeline.
I push again, shaking now, crying with effort, and after three more contractions, and the last of my strength sapped by pushing, a second cry joins the first.
“Two,” the midwife says, awe in her voice. “Smaller, but fierce.”
My legs are shaking as I stare at our sons. Their little faces are red and creased as they cry. Tears of happiness spill from my eyes in hot streaks.
Annie is gently wiping their faces and covering them with a blanket. I want to hold them so much but it’s more important to let them continue to benefit from their connection to the placenta. Only when it’s born and has stopped pulsing to deliver nutrients will its cords be cut.
“They’re so beautiful,” I gasp, stunned to realize that one has my red hair and the other the intense dark color of his fathers’. I thought they’d be identical, but I’m relieved to discover they’re not. I want them to forge a path of their own rather than live in each other’s shadows.
“I want to name him after my grandfather, Thoren,” I whisper, touching the face of my copper-haired son. “And this one… Fredrik after your father,” I say, looking at Nixon.
His eyes shine, no trace of his usual control left. “He would’ve been proud.”
It’s a peace offering and a promise, wrapped in the name of a man who stood beside us when the world threatened to split in two. I know what it means to Nixon to carry his father’s name into the next generation. He kisses my hand, his eyes lingering with warmth and wonder.
The next few minutes pass in a blur. Eventually, I’m helped to the sofa, covered with a blanket, and handed two slippery perfect babies to hold against my chest. They’re warm, soft and impossibly real. One of them lets out a tiny grunt. The other curls into my collarbone and immediately quiets.
They’re perfect.
Ahya is brought back in, toddling shyly into the room with Goldie and Caleb at her side. Her eyes go wide at the sight of me, then the babies. She tiptoes forward, cautious but curious, and then she nestles against my side, resting her head gently against my hip.
“You want to meet your brothers?” I whisper.
She nods and strokes their tiny fists with one finger, her expression soft and solemn in a way that's so much older than her years.