Chapter Twenty-Three
I still hadn’t allowed myself to truly believe that I was pregnant. Sure, the test said I was, the midwife said I was, and my growing belly said I was. But I just didn’t feel pregnant. There was no kicking—no fluttering.
The closer to my due date and larger I grew, the more I feared I had a tumor growing inside of me instead of a child. My stomach was too hard, and the dreams I was having? They were messed up and always resulted in me not having a baby.
I kept those fears hidden away, afraid that if I said them aloud, they’d come true—terrified I’d disappoint my mate. Scared of everything.
None of this made sense. I couldn’t get pregnant. I knew this. I’d experienced this. And yet, here I was, going through the motions like a pregnant person. I was even nesting like there was no end in sight. I’d known enough pregnant omegas in my lifetime to see I was acting like they did the last few weeks of their pregnancies. I cleaned and bought all the baby things and moved furniture around. I’d have taken it as a good sign had I been nearing full term. But I wasn’t. I still was nowhere near the end of my pregnancy. That only solidified my growing fear that I was babyless.
The stress from it all was wearing me down. Today, I stubbed my toe, and it was all over with. Tears flowed, not from the physical pain but from the stress.
I sat in a huge pile of blankets on the floor, ones that were there because my brain insisted without rhyme or reason they should be. I curled up and sobbed. I cried and cried and cried.
When my mate came in to see if I wanted lunch, he joined me on the blankets, hugged me close, and asked me what was wrong. Finally, I let it all out, telling him my biggest fears. When I mentioned not feeling any kicks, he pulled back and looked at me.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Our baby. By now, I should be able to feel movement, but I don’t. It’s just—it’s hard.”
He felt my belly then looked at me and said, “Maybe your nesting is building a real nest.”
“What?” I asked. He was talking in code or something. I was sure of it.
“I think you’re going to have a clutch.”
I stared at him, opening and closing my mouth, no words coming out. He took out his phone and tapped away before pulling me to him and holding me close.
The next thing I knew, he had a midwife looking at me, and they came to the same conclusion he had—I was about to lay an egg.
“That’s impossible! I’m a wolf!” I reminded them. “And besides, I’m barren.”
“Maybe Fate gave you the reproductive tools to be with your mate,” the midwife replied.
While I wasn’t sure that’s how it worked, it made sense. And really, all of this was a million times better than it being a tumor. I looked down at my belly.
“An egg?”
The midwife nodded. “An egg.”
Over the next week, I kept adding more and more blankets and pillows to the pile. Now that I knew what it was for, I didn’t hesitate. Mav’s online shopping accounts were getting a workout.
One morning, after adding three new pillows, I couldn’t stay awake anymore. I curled up in a ball on the blankets—it was comfortable, beyond comfortable. When I woke up, my stomach and back were hurting. The pain intensified with every minute then stopped then started again. The cycle repeated, each time the pain getting closer and harder.
All I wanted was my mate, but he was working. I closed my eyes and willed him to be there. Five minutes later, he walked through the door and asked what I needed. He had heard my call.
We didn’t pretend to understand this connection we had, but we accepted and cherished it.
“I think I’m in labor,” I told him. He ran to the bedside table and pulled out our birth plan, which outlined how I planned to deliver the egg.
I took my clothes off and had a quick shower—not because I needed to but to distract myself a little from the pain that was coming. After I was clean and dried off, we paced around the living room. The midwife had told us they didn’t need to be there unless we wanted them to be. They said it was natural and would work itself out.
We paced and paced, and then there was a burning sensation. It was time to push. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did. My mate squatted in front of me, letting me hold his arms as I squatted too, ready to lay our egg. My body was telling me what to do, and I just followed its cues.
Ten minutes later, we had a beautiful egg in the nest, and I curled up around it. I wasn’t sure how long it would be before it hatched, but I planned not to leave its side until it did.
It turned out to be three weeks and two days before our little one joined us. Aside from the world’s fastest run-to-pee sessions, I didn’t leave its side. I snuggled around it and protected it. Gods, I must have stunk, unwilling to leave even for five minutes. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, and my amazing mate didn’t show a single ounce of disgust. He was a keeper.
Then the day came. I felt the egg move then rock slightly. There was a tapping from inside then one crack then another and then there was our beautiful baby. Unlike wolves, dragons are born in their shifted state. But, just like wolves, we wouldn’t see his dragon form again until puberty.
We both stared at our little one for a moment. He looked so much like his father’s dragon, but tiny. I picked him up, and he shifted into his human form in my arms. I snuggled him against me. The first thing he wanted was to feed, and boy, did he. My hungry little dragon.
He had just finished nursing when my mate said, “You’ve got to take a shower. I’ll stay out here with the baby.”
I didn’t even argue. He could protect our baby better than I could. And did he love us both fiercely!
The hot water felt amazing on my skin, but my son was in the next room, and I couldn’t wait to be back with him. I took the world’s fastest shower, and when I came out, clothes were laid on the bed for me, and Mav held our sweet boy, who was sound asleep. I climbed into bed and took him in my arms, looking down at our baby with awe.
There were no words and yet so many words.
“I love you,” my mate said as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Thank you for making our family. I would’ve been happy if it was only you and me forever. You are worth it. You are worth everything. But seeing our son…he’s worth everything too. What should we name him?”
I looked down at our son. “How about Lachlan?”
“Lachlan,” my mate repeated. “I love it.”
“And I love you, alpha mine.”
“I love you, omega mine.” He smiled down at our baby. “And we both love you, Lachlan.”
“So very much.”