Chapter Seventeen
Sothea
Something was wrong with my mate. Maybe not wrong, but off. I could feel it in my gut.
Ten more minutes, and this tattoo was complete.
Shit. I couldn’t wait ten more minutes.
“Greta,” I called out. Bunny Foo-Foo meowed at me for raising my voice. “Sorry, little one.”
“Yeah?” my sister-in-law called out.
“I’m almost finished with this, but can you call Altan?”
She came into my area, holding her phone. “What do you need me to tell him?”
“Ask him if he’s okay.” I bit my lip, needing to watch what I said in front of my human client. “I had a weird…instinct.”
“Gotcha.”
She disappeared into the back room and returned a few minutes later, pale. “He says he’s fine, but also that his back hurts, and it’s so bad he can’t sit down.”
Greta took over the client and while I wanted all my clients to love their tats, I didn’t have time to wait and see if he did. I rushed home to find Altan hunched over the sink, bracing his hands along the edge.
“Omega mine. Did your water break?”
He nodded. “A few minutes ago. In the bathroom. I thought I’d peed on myself. I’m going so frequently that I thought… I’m sorry, but I couldn’t clean it up.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m calling the healer.”
I stood behind my mate, rubbing his back and getting moans of appreciation in return while the phone rang. I explained the situation and the healer instructed us to go right to the birthing center. “Let me grab your bag, and it’s time to go.”
Altan’s eyes widened in the mirror. “Right now?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes. Your water has broken. Your contractions are coming on strong. We’re ready to have our baby. Well, you. You’re having our baby. I’m just here and absolutely helpless.”
He closed his eyes and inhaled and exhaled slowly, calming himself. “Okay. Bag. Car. Birthing Center. Baby. Easy peasy. We planned for this.”
I didn’t know about the easy part, but I nodded anyway. Not the time to argue with an omega about to give birth. I had to pick my battles.
“Two seconds.”
I was back with him, bag in hand, and helped him to the car, waddling the whole way. At the birthing center, the staff had me assist him in taking his clothes off and putting one of those sterile gowns on.
He fussed about it. “I bought something to wear while I labor.”
“You’re past that point,” the nurse told him.
A bigger contraction slammed into him, making him grip my arm so hard, I thought it might break if I wasn’t a shifter, and any further arguments dissipated on his lips.
The contractions came closer together. He cried out in pain and I cursed that there was nothing I could do to take it from him. My bear didn’t approve of all of this, not one bit. Except the end part. He would be fine once our babe and mate were through this safely.
“You’re ready to go, Altan,” the healer said, standing at the foot of the bed. “Whenever you feel the urge to push. Your body knows what to do. Get out of the way, so to speak.”
A few minutes later, Altan looked at me. “I’m ready. Don’t leave me.”
I smoothed some hair from his sweaty forehead. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Altan bore down, his feet in the air, and pushed until I thought he might pass out but, with each one, he looked more determined.
My bear poured strength into our bond. How omegas did this was beyond me.
I stubbed my toe the other day and acted like a complete baby, and now, my mate was pushing a tiny person out of his body.
“One more. One more big push and we’re there.”
Altan took both my hands in his and squeezed. His hips dug into the bed as he pushed harder and harder, crying out to the goddess for help.
And then, with a great whoosh of breath and strength, our baby was born. She came into the world carrying the cry that my mate had started while pushing her out.
The whole damned thing was nothing short of a miracle.
“She’s here,” I whispered to my mate. The healer placed our daughter on his chest, and he leaned back, utterly spent.
“She’s here. What do you want to name her?” he asked, touching her cheek with one gentle finger.
“You grew her and then birthed her, and you’re asking me for a name?”
“Well, it’s the least you can do.” My mate laughed softly. “I’m kidding. But please, whatever you decide, I will love.”
We’d talked about so many names but one of them stuck. When I looked at our baby with her dark hair and my mate’s eyes and cute nose, I knew which one belonged to her. “Laney.”
“Laney Sothea,” he said. “After her papa.”
I leaned down and kissed both of their foreheads before Laney was taken to be weighed and measured. All the newborn things. The nurses got Altan cleaned up and, before long, we were in recovery. Just the three of us. Our family.