Page 26 of Beneath His Alpha's Wings
I whirled and pounded down the steps, wondering why the hell we were doing this all the way up in our bedroom. Why hadn’t I thought to set up something closer to the ground floor? Another contraction hit and I had to stop and clutch the railing, struggling to block it out. I forced myself to keep going. Once in the kitchen, I grabbed a bowl of ice and raced back, cursing the absurd number of steps in the lighthouse.
When I returned he was standing beside the bed, bent over, his ass in the air and his cheek on the mattress, all of his clothing in a puddle on the floor.
“Lucas?”
“It feels better this way?” he said softly, not opening his eyes.
He stayed like that for maybe thirty seconds as the next contraction rolled in and he faltered, almost falling to the ground. I lunged and grabbed him, my arms the only thing holding him up. I helped him bend back over the bed, with a pillow under his head as he cried out his need to push.
“You can do this,” I told him.
He screamed and my heart shattered, as my own body doubled over from the shared pain. I never wanted him to endure in this much pain ever again. Ever.
And then there was silence except for his panting.
“Towels,” he said softly and I handed them to him, but he shook in refusal. “Under me. I’m sliding.”
It took me a second to figure out what he was trying to communicate. The towels would help him not slide as he pushed. That was the last time I was going to get fancy sheets.
With a bit of effort, I managed the task and set a cool washcloth on his head as the next contraction hit. I encouraged him, praised him, held his feet for him as he bellowed out in pain, and did my best to keep him from realizing I felt it too.
Our baby started to crown.
And then it was over.
“It hurts,” he whimpered.
“I know. Believe me, I know. This time you need to push with all you have.” I knew nothing about any of this, but sitting there at the entrance, not quite out enough to grab couldn’t be good. “You’ve got this. Let’s meet our son.”
And the next push, hedidhave it, pushing through until first a head, and then some shoulders emerged. I reached for the baby and helped him enter this world.
And as his first cries reached my ears, tears of joy began to fall freely.
Just like Nitesh, he wasn’t mine. But in a way, now I had brought both of them into this world. And just like Nitesh, I immediately loved him.
“What’s wrong? Is the baby okay?” Lucas tried to sit, but fell, sheer exhaustion overtaking him.
“He’s perfect,” I whispered, wrapping him in a towel. “Oh, Lucas, he’s perfect.”
Chapter Eight
Kessel
The weeks after Stryker was born passed blissfully. Sometimes I even forgot Lucas and I were in the lighthouse hiding from the feral shifter. It was so perfect, I never wanted to leave.
We spent our days snuggling on the couch, watching movies and talking about our lives, while Stryker nursed or slept. Sometimes he treated us to a new coo or smile. Once, even a giggle. At night we shifted together.
It was odd, flying playful circles around a bear, and yet it worked. As I warden I never forgot I was the useless one. My main skill was just flying around looking for stuff. Any wolf shifter with a good nose would have been as effective. Moreso, since they could actually fight once they caught up to someone. But I never felt out of place with Lucas, even though we were so, so different.
Sometimes I worried that the feral would find us here and I’d be powerless to protect my mate and child. As much as I would have loved to kill the bastard who caused so much pain to my mate, I knew I’d never be able to.
It was a beautiful evening. We were on the balcony enjoying the breeze. And then my phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Kessel, we need you in the sky. Now.”
I tensed. “Hi to you too, Larkin. What’s going on?”
