Chapter Sixty-Two

Eve

The pain picks up in every conceivable way. Frequency. Intensity. Duration. Just when I think I've recovered from one contraction, the next one starts, and somehow it hurts even worse.

A part of me feels bad for Rosa and Grey. As qualified as they are, I've barely let them get within two feet of me since they arrived.

My omega is far less compassionate.

"No," I snarl— she snarls—as I pace the nesting room. "Don't need them."

"I'd really like a second opinion, omega," Marcus says gently. "That's what they're here for."

I wave him off, or try to, clutching onto Thorn and Baxter so I stay upright. God knows how much I'm actually walking, and how much they're carrying me, but I'm determined to be on my feet. Every time I sit down, the pressure makes me want to scream, like I'm suddenly claustrophobic in my own body.

" Agh —" I cry out, feeling that familiar tightness wrap its way around my stomach.

Thorn and Baxter catch me without hesitation. Thorn turns me into Baxter's chest. Slow-dancing pose—my favorite.

"Breathe," Baxter says, his whole body vibrating with the command. "Don't hold it, little one."

"Can't," I whimper.

"You can," Thorn growls. "Come on. In … that's it. Good. And out."

I do my best to copy his example, but the pain is everywhere, turning my mind into a white slate. I don't know what I say, if I manage to say anything, before Baxter's arms tighten around me.

"I've got you," he murmurs, "you're okay."

I don't feel okay. I feel hot, and weak, and like my legs have disappeared. The pain threatens to rip me apart.

"Marcus," Baxter says, a sudden urgency in his tone. "Get them."

Get who ? I think my eyes are open, but all I can see is that stark whiteness, a little bit fuzzy around the edges. A metallic whining rings in my ears. Even as the pain finally loosens its clutches, I feel lost in my body, like I've fainted but won't let myself black out.

"—get her on the bed. Elevate her legs."

A male voice I don't recognize makes my inner omega growl. What's he doing here? Where are my alphas?

Blotch by blotch, my vision returns, and thank god it's Baxter's face I first see. I try to reach for him.

"Easy, omega." He takes my hand. "Just rest a minute."

"Want … to stand," I murmur.

"Your heart rate is elevated," that unfamiliar, unwelcome voice tells me. "I'm sorry, but we're going to need to keep you off your feet for a while."

That's unacceptable , my inner omega snarls. I need to be standing. Need to move. Lying still like this is unbearable, not to mention unproductive.

I try to sit up again and Baxter pins me back down. Fury boils over inside of me. Don't they see I'm trying to do what's best for the pup?

"Why does she want to get up so bad?" Red demands.

Marcus sighs. "Probably, instinctively, to use gravity to her advantage. Get the pup as low down as possible."

"Her omega is aware of her body, and its limitations," the other stranger—the female beta—agrees. "She's using everything at her disposable to make things easier when it's time to push."

"Not that aware," Thorn growls, "or she wouldn't be fainting."

"I didn't faint," I insist, but the slight slur to my voice makes me sound a lot less convincing.

"Excuse me, Marcus?" The first stranger pipes up. "Her O2 levels are a little low. Mind if I …?"

Marcus jumps to attention. "Yes. Of course."

Before I can argue, or even fully register what's going on, someone places a mask over my head, and Baxter is purring at me to breathe deeply, and I'm doing as I'm told. The sooner I can pass their little checks, the sooner I can get back up on my feet.

And the sooner I can bring our pup into the world.

***

"This isn't helping," I growl, leaning over the edge of the tub.

Marcus drizzles another handful of water over my back. I can tell he's a little disappointed when he answers, "Okay, princess. Want to get out?"

I hesitate. The bath might not be letting me move as much as I want, but the warm water is soothing on my muscles, and that counts for something.

"Let's give it five more minutes," Baxter says.

I sigh, pressing my head into his arm. Thank god for head alphas. I've never been more grateful to have someone so capable of reading my mind.

The bath does have its other benefits—like ensuring Rosa and Grey, the ‘strangers' my omega wants me to show my teeth at, are well out of the way. There was no chance any of my alphas would let them into the bathing room.

I'm distracted from my petty victory by another contraction digging its hooks into me, making me bury a sob in Baxter's wrist.

"Breathe," he reminds me. "With me, little one."

Can't breathe. Can't do this anymore , I try to tell him, to beg him, but the words don't come.

"Fuck," I hear someone else's voice over the static. Am I still crying? Am I worrying them?

I need to keep myself together. My alphas are working hard to make sure I'm comfortable and the pup is safe. But barely five minutes after the first contraction, another one starts, and I sob so hard I think it'll make me sick.

"I need to check her again," Marcus says. "Thorn, Bax—will you help her out of the tub?"

"I'll get a towel," Riley says.

Out of the tub ? My inner omega whines pathetically. But I was just starting to get used to it .

I don't have the energy to fight the strong arms that help me up, steadying me as soon as my knees buckle. Water sloshes around my calves.

"Eve," Thorn says sternly, "you feeling dizzy?"

My breaths quicken. "N–no. I …" Something's happening—pressure, like another contraction, but different. Heavier.

Marcus asserts, "She needs oxygen. Bring her to the nest."

Thorn and Baxter don't hesitate. I find myself pulling back, not knowing why, just knowing I need to stay here—to not move .

"Eve," Thorn says again, "stay with us."

"We've got you," Baxter adds.

I shake my head. "Something's coming."

Red steps closer, eyes wide with excitement. "The pup? You want to push?"

Riley huffs. "Down, boy. Her water hasn't even—"

Like she's spoken the magic words, that heavy pressure low down in my stomach snaps, water trickling down my thighs. It doesn't hurt like I expect, but god if it doesn't make my head spin.

Thorn's is the first face I register, painted with an ultra-rare picture of shock.

"You're okay," Baxter says, feeling me quiver. "That's just your water." He glances at Marcus. "Right?"

Marcus smiles. "That's right. But now I really need to check you, okay?"

I swallow. Nod.

He barely calls out the number—seven centimeters—before I'm crying for him to get away. The next contraction barrels into me, far more intense than the last, and his fingers in my cervix is arguably the last thing I need. It's as if, with my water broken, I've lost the cushioning that was keeping the pup comfy and secure, and all that's left is a raw burning sensation. One I can't escape, even outside of the contractions.

"God!" I squeal. They just keep coming.

Red fumbles for his phone. "T–time. I've got it."

I don't know why he's bothering at this point. The pup is coming, and soon. What more do we need to know?

I'm lucid enough to hear Marcus call for the midwives. I don't know what he needs their opinion on now, but I no longer have the strength to contain my omega, who hisses at the thought of them touching me. Of invading my nest—the sacred space where our pup is about to be born.

"Enough," Thorn suddenly snaps. I worry he's talking to me, then I see he's facing Marcus. "She can't take this."

Marcus falters. He looks to Baxter who, to my relief, returns a sober nod.

"I'm inclined to agree," Rosa says quietly. "Eve is progressing beautifully, and we've set up everything she might need. I'm happy to leave the rest to you, Marcus."

Grey adds, "The last thing we want is to upset Eve's omega, especially as she gets so close to delivering."

Marcus goes pale, glancing between the midwives and his packmates, barely letting himself look at me. "But Eve needs—"

"Marcus," I gasp. Finally, those sapphire eyes land on me, that professional composure fizzling away, melting my heart in the process. I can't find the strength to say anything further, but I trust he understands me. If not in my eyes, then in our bond.

Finally, the midwives are sent into the hall. They've done all they can do.

And before I know it, I'm feeling the pressure to push.