Chapter 22
The first thing I felt was wrongness. Not the pull of the bond, not the usual awareness that kept me tethered to Sorcha even in sleep. This was sharper, colder like an alarm that shot through me before I even opened my eyes.
Then I heard it. Sorcha groaning, it was low, pained. Coming from the bathroom.
My eyes snapped open. The daylight was a weight pressing down on me, every nerve dragging against gravity, but nothing in hell was going to keep me in that bed while my mate suffered.
I forced my body to move, my bare feet hitting the cold floor as I stumbled toward the sound, every step tearing through the haze of lethargy that daylight cursed me with.
The sight stopped me cold. Sorcha sat on the bathroom floor, her back braced against the wall, both arms wrapped around her swollen belly. Her face was pale, damp with sweat, her lips drawn tight as another groan slipped out.
My chest clenched so violently it felt like something inside me cracked.
“Baby…” The word rasped out of me as I dropped to my knees beside her, my hands trembling as I reached for her. “What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong.”
Her eyes flicked up to mine, wide and terrified. “It hurts, Lucien. I…something’s wrong with the baby.”
No. No, no, no.
Rage at myself surged hot in my veins. I should’ve felt it sooner, should’ve sensed it. I was her mate. Her protector. And here she was, hurting, and I hadn’t even known. I tore my gaze from her just long enough to shout, my voice carrying through the house like a whip crack. “Layla! Ivan!”
The words echoed, but all I saw was Sorcha. My hands cradled her face, brushing damp hair from her forehead as I tried to soften my voice, to keep her tethered to me instead of the fear. “It’s alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
She winced again, clutching her stomach tighter, and it felt like knives tearing through me. I slid an arm under her knees and another around her back, lifting her gently. She felt too light in my arms, fragile in a way that made my fury double.
I carried her to the bed, laying her down as carefully as I would something sacred.
The sheets were cool against her damp skin, her breathing ragged, her hand clutching mine like a lifeline.
My grip never wavered, I wouldn’t let it.
My whole body leaned toward her even as my voice dropped to a growl that shook through the walls.
“Ivan!”
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall before Ivan appeared in the doorway. His broad frame filled it, his hair mussed from sleep, weapon still strapped across his chest. His eyes flicked from Sorcha’s pale, sweating face to me, and then, in the same breath, took in the state I was in.
Naked. I hadn’t thought twice about it when I bolted from the bed. I was still stripped down to nothing but my skin, the evidence of sleep clinging to me, but I didn’t care. Modesty wasn’t a thought that could exist when my mate was hurting.
Ivan’s eyes sharpened, but he didn’t comment. “Ivan, call the doctor. Now.”
His voice was clipped, efficient. “I’ve already tried. The doctor can’t come out, not until the sun falls. He said it himself.”
The words snapped inside me like a whip. My free hand curled into a fist, knuckles whitening. Every muscle in me wanted to tear the walls down, to drag the doctor here myself if I had to. “Then try harder,” I snarled, fangs flashing in the dim light. “Get someone here to help her.”
Sorcha whimpered beside me, her hand tightening around mine, and it pulled me back from the edge. I couldn’t let her see me lose it, not when she needed calm. My chest heaved, and I forced myself to lean closer to her instead of exploding at Ivan.
Behind me, I heard the heavy tread of Gideon approaching, his steps deliberate, steady as stone. His voice followed, calm and anchoring, the kind of tone that had talked Roman’s men down from bloodlust more than once.
“Lucien.”
Just my name, but it hit like a tether thrown across a chasm.
My shoulders tightened, my jaw grinding, and I turned half an inch to catch his silhouette in the doorway.
He wasn’t rattled, not by my bare, furious state, not by the way the room pulsed with the bond between me and Sorcha, my possessive energy thick enough to choke.
His eyes, sharp and level, went straight past me to her, lying pale and trembling against the sheets.
“She needs you steady,” Gideon said, his tone even, unyielding. “Not storming. She already feels your rage, Lucien. You’re going to break her if you don’t rein it in.”
For a second, my throat locked. He was right, and I hated that he was right.
The predator in me wanted to rip the world apart, to drag the doctor through the walls by his throat, to tear down every barrier between Sorcha and safety.
But Gideon’s words cut through the haze, reminding me of what mattered in this moment. Not my fury but her.
Sorcha whimpered softly, and it gutted me. I forced my lungs to drag in air, my voice rough when I managed to answer. “I am steady,” I lied, low and dangerous, like the words themselves were iron I was bending into shape.
Gideon didn’t flinch, didn’t argue. He just gave a single nod. “Then show her.”
I turned slightly, realizing then how I must have looked naked, bloody-minded, every inch of me strung with fury. Vulnerable, yes, but dangerous too. A predator on the brink.
Sorcha’s eyes flickered up at me, glassy with fear, and for the first time in centuries, I felt… exposed.
“I’ll get dressed,” I ground out, my voice a rasp, before looking back at Ivan with fire still burning in my gaze. “Get Layla here.”
Ivan gave a sharp nod, his voice low as he turned away to bark orders. I leaned down to Sorcha, brushing damp hair from her face, and whispered hoarsely, “I’ll be right back, sweetheart. Just one moment.”
As I pulled away to throw on the first clothes my hands found, my chest still burned with one truth, every second I wasn’t holding her felt like it was killing me.
“Lucien.”
Gideon. He stepped into the room, his presence as solid as stone, the scent of sun and steel clinging to him. He was Layla’s guard, but right now, he was here, steadying the chaos.
“Layla will be here soon, she will be able to help.” Gideon said evenly, already moving to Sorcha’s side, placing a hand on her shoulder in quiet reassurance. “Your mate’s not bleeding. That’s good. That means it might be pain from the strain, not labour.”
Sorcha’s eyes met mine, wet and wide with fear. “It’s too soon,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Lucien, I can’t…I don’t want anything to happen to the baby.”
My heart fractured. I sat back on the edge of the bed, pulling her against me as carefully as I could without jostling her stomach.
My lips brushed her temple, my words rough and desperate.
“Nothing will happen to you. Nothing will happen to our baby. Do you hear me? I won’t let it.
I can’t…” My voice faltered, cracking under the weight in my chest. “I can’t live without you. ”
She shook against me, whispering, “What if something goes wrong?”
I pressed my forehead to hers, my thumb stroking her trembling hand.
Outwardly, I tried to anchor her, to keep her calm.
Inwardly, I was nothing but fire and fear.
My strategist’s mind, so sharp in war, faltered here.
This wasn’t battle. This was her. And I didn’t know how to fight what I couldn’t see.
But I’d move heaven and hell before I lost her.
I looked up sharply, my voice snapping to Ivan. “Get everything ready for when the doctor comes. Food, water, bandages. I don’t care. Everything. And don’t leave that door unguarded.”
Ivan bowed his head and moved without hesitation, boots pounding down the hall as if he knew his life depended on it.
Gideon nodded once, calm but firm. “We’ll hold the line until sundown.”
Before I could answer, soft but sure footsteps entered the room.
Layla. She slipped in like she’d been born for this kind of storm, her dark hair pulled back, eyes sharp but warm when they landed on Sorcha.
Aleksander wasn’t with her, which told me she’d already handed him off to someone she trusted.
“I’ve got this,” she said immediately, her voice steady in a way that cut through the chaos.
She moved past Gideon without hesitation, straight to Sorcha’s side, her presence calm but commanding.
She placed a hand on Sorcha’s arm, whispering softly to her before glancing at me.
“She needs calm and comfort right now. Gideon, go check on Aleksander. Make sure he’s settled and out of earshot. I don’t want him hearing any of this.”
For once, Gideon didn’t argue. He gave a single nod, his eyes meeting mine as if to say she’s in good hands, before he turned and strode out.
Layla’s gaze snapped back to me, no fear in her eyes, just a quiet authority that somehow made the storm inside me ease half an inch.
“Lucien, get her comfortable. Prop her up, too much pressure on her back will only make it worse.” She was already moving, pulling pillows from the headboard, arranging them with practiced hands.
“Ivan will bring what’s needed. I’ll make sure she eats something light once she’s settled. ”
Sorcha whimpered again, clutching at her stomach, and Layla’s voice dropped low and soothing. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll take care of you. You’re not alone in this.”
For the first time since I’d found her on the bathroom floor, the tightness in my chest loosened.
Not much, but enough that I could breathe without feeling like my lungs were being crushed.
At least there was someone in this room who knew what the hell to do, someone who wasn’t lost in fury and fear.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, lifting Sorcha carefully against my chest while Layla tucked the pillows behind her, arranging them until she looked less fragile, less like she was about to break in my arms.