Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Serenity
A fierce pain gripped me, tearing me from sleep.
I woke to a crushing tightness wrapping around my belly like an iron band, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. I cried out, my hands flying to my stomach.
Bright morning sunlight streamed through the windows. How long had I slept?
Angelo raced over from where he’d been standing by the window. “Serenity, what’s wrong?”
“I just—“ Another wave of pain cut off my words. I gasped, doubling over. “Sharp pain. Can’t breathe.”
His face went white. “Is it the baby?”
Before I could answer, the pain intensified, radiating from my belly down through my hips. I felt it—felt her—the baby pressing downward, getting ready.
“Oh God,” I whispered. “Angelo, I think—I think she’s coming.”
“It’s too early. You’re not due for another week.” But even as he said it, his eyes were wide with panic and something else—calculation. He knew what this meant. December 12th. Four days before the Full Cold Moon.
Angelo spun toward the doorway and bellowed, “PRUDENCE!”
Another contraction rocked through me, stronger this time, stealing my breath completely. I gripped the sheets, my knuckles white. The baby was definitely coming. I could feel the pressure, the overwhelming urge to push even though I knew—somehow knew—it was too soon for that.
“Angelo—“ I panted through the pain. “Something’s wrong. It’s too fast. This is too fast.”
Prudence appeared in the doorway within seconds, as if she’d been waiting just outside. Her face was the picture of calculated concern. “What’s happening?”
“Contractions,” Angelo said tersely. “Strong ones. Close together.”
Prudence hurried to my side, her hands immediately going to my belly. “How far apart?”
“I don’t—“ Another wave hit me and I cried out, arching against the pillows. “They’re not stopping!”
“Quick, Angelo, get some towels from the linen closet,” Prudence ordered, her voice calm and professional. “And water. We need clean water.”
Angelo stared at me, his face torn between wanting to help and not wanting to leave my side. “Are you sure—“
Another contraction hit and I gasped. “Angelo, please. Just do it!”
He disappeared out the door at vampire speed.
Prudence moved efficiently, grabbing towels from the bathroom. “Serenity, I need you to move up toward the headboard. It will be easier for you to deliver if you’re propped up.”
Gritting my teeth through the pain, I edged myself up the bed, my hands gripping the sheets. “No,” I panted. “She can’t come yet. Not until after the fifteenth. It’s not safe—“
“I’m sorry, Serenity.” Prudence’s hands were gentle but firm as she examined me. “You’re already dilated to three centimeters and progressing quickly. Your baby is coming today whether we want her to or not.”
“But the Full Cold Moon—Vex—“ Terror flooded through me. “Prudence, we have to stop it. We have to—“
“We can’t stop labor once it’s progressed this far,” she said, her eyes calm and reassuring. “But don’t worry. You’re safe here. The wards are up. Angelo won’t let anyone near you or the baby.”
Angelo reappeared with an armful of towels and a basin of water. His eyes were wild, frightened in a way I’d never seen. “How long?”
My heart lurched. If Angelo was scared—Angelo, who’d faced down demons and ancient vampires without flinching—then things were worse than I thought.
“With humans, hard to say with first babies. Could be hours. Could be faster. But you’re half Nephilim. This is probably going to be different than human birth.” Prudence took the towels from him. “But she’s progressing quickly.”
Another contraction seized me, and I cried out, my hand reaching for Angelo. He was there instantly, taking my hand, letting me squeeze until I knew it must hurt even him.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The contractions came faster now, one rolling into the next with barely any break between them. I lost track of time—minutes, hours, I couldn’t tell. There was only pain and Angelo’s hand in mine and Prudence’s calm voice telling me to breathe.
“You’re doing so well, Serenity,” Prudence said, her hands gentle as she checked me again. “You’re at six centimeters now. Halfway there.”
“Halfway?” I gasped, my head falling back against the pillows. It felt like I’d been in labor for days already. “How long has it been?”
“About an hour,” Angelo said, his other hand stroking my sweat-damp hair back from my face. His touch was cool and soothing against my overheated skin.
“An hour?” That couldn’t be right. First labors were supposed to take forever—twelve hours, eighteen, even longer. “That’s too fast. Prudence, something’s wrong—“
“Some women progress quickly, especially the supernatural,” Prudence said smoothly, her expression perfectly placid. “Every birth is different. Your body knows what to do. Just trust the process.”
But fear coiled in my gut alongside the pain. This wasn’t natural. This was too fast, too intense. My body shouldn’t be doing this.
Another contraction seized me and I cried out, my nails digging into Angelo’s hand. He didn’t even flinch.
“Breathe through it,” he murmured. “In and out, tesoro. You’re doing so well.”
A knock at the door made Angelo’s head snap up, his fangs descending.
“It’s me,” Joy’s voice called from the hallway. “Can I come in? Please?”
“Yes,” I managed between gasps.
Joy slipped inside, and the fear on her face morphed into determination the moment she saw me. She rushed to my other side, taking my free hand in both of hers. “I’m here. I’m right here with you, just like we always said I would be.”
“Joy—“ I gripped her hand as another wave of pain crashed through me. “Something’s wrong. This is happening too fast—“
“Shhh.” She squeezed my hand tight. “You’re the strongest person I know. You can do this. We’re going to get through this together.”
“Eight centimeters,” Prudence announced from the foot of the bed. “Not long now, Serenity. You’re almost ready to push.”
“No, no, no,” I panted, panic rising in my chest. “I need more time. We need more time. The Full Cold Moon—Vex is out there—“
“The baby’s coming, tesoro.” Angelo said, his eyes haunted. “She’s coming whether we’re ready or not. But we’ll protect her. I swear to you on everything I am, we will protect our daughter.”
“Angelo’s right,” Joy added. “The house is warded. Lorenzo’s outside the door. Enzo and Dimitri are downstairs. No one is getting past us.”
Another contraction hit, stronger than all the others, and I screamed. My back arched off the bed, every muscle in my body tensing with the overwhelming pressure.
“That’s it,” Prudence encouraged. “Your body is doing exactly what it needs to do. You’re so close now.”
Time became meaningless. There was only the cycle of contractions—building, peaking, releasing—over and over and over.
Angelo’s voice in my ear, telling me I was strong, I could do this, he loved me.
Joy’s hand in mine, her shadows flickering protectively around the room.
Prudence’s hands, guiding, checking, always there.
“Nine centimeters,” Prudence said after what felt like an eternity but might have been only minutes. “Almost there.”
I was exhausted. Every muscle screamed. Sweat poured down my face. “I can’t,” I gasped. “I can’t do this anymore—“
“Yes, you can,” Angelo said fiercely, his cool hand cupping my face, making me look at him. “You’re a warrior, Serenity. You’ve faced demons and hell itself. You can do this.”
“Ten centimeters.” Prudence’s voice cut through my haze of pain and exhaustion. “You’re fully dilated, Serenity. On the next contraction, I need you to push.”
“I can’t—“
“You can.” Angelo’s face filled my vision, his dark eyes locked on mine with absolute certainty. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. You can do anything.”
The urge to push came with the next contraction—overwhelming, instinctive, impossible to resist. My body took over, and I bore down, pushing with everything I had.
“Good!” Prudence said. “That’s perfect! Again. When the next one comes, push again!”
I pushed and pushed and pushed until I thought I might split apart. Joy counted for me—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten—and then I could breathe again until the next wave came.
“You’re doing beautifully,” Prudence encouraged. “I can see the head. She has dark hair like her father.”
Despite the pain, despite the fear, joy sparked in my chest. Dark hair. My baby.
“Keep going, Serenity,” Angelo urged. “You’re so close. So close.”
I pushed through three more contractions, four, five. My body was on fire. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only push and scream and hold onto Angelo and Joy like they were the only solid things in a world that had dissolved into pain.
“The head is crowning,” Prudence said. “One more big push, Serenity. Just one more and her head will be out.”
“I can’t—I can’t do it—“
“Yes, you can!” Joy said fiercely, her shadows swirling faster around us. “Push, Serenity! Push!”
I gathered every ounce of strength I had left—every bit of stubbornness, every drop of love for my daughter, every ounce of determination—and I pushed.
Pressure, burning, stretching—and then sudden relief.
“The head is out!” Prudence said. “Good, good! One more push for the shoulders and she’ll be here.”
The next contraction came almost immediately. I pushed, felt the baby turn inside me, felt her slide free in a rush of fluid and relief so profound I sobbed.
And then—a sound. A cry. Thin and reedy and the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.
“She’s here,” Prudence said softly, lifting a tiny, squirming baby—my baby—red-faced and screaming, covered in blood, perfect and alive and mine. “Your daughter is here.”
Through my tears and exhaustion, I watched Prudence cut the umbilical cord, then hold her. She was perfect. So perfect. Tiny fists waving, little legs kicking, her face scrunched up as she wailed her displeasure at being born into this cold, bright world.
“Let me hold her,” I gasped, reaching out with trembling, desperate arms. My whole body ached, my muscles screamed, but none of that mattered.
I needed my baby. Needed to hold her, to count her fingers and toes, to press her against my heart and know she was real and safe and mine. “Give her to me—“
“In just a moment.” Prudence turned slightly away, my daughter—my daughter—cradled in her hands. She reached for a towel with one hand. “She needs to be cleaned up.”
“No.” The word came out sharp, cutting through my exhaustion. Cold dread flooded through me, washing away the joy and relief. Something was wrong. Something about the way Prudence held her, the way she’d turned her body just slightly, keeping my baby just out of my reach. “Give her to me. Now.”
Prudence glanced back at me over her shoulder. For just a second—one horrible, crystallizing second—I saw something flicker across her face. Not the warm concern of a midwife. Not professional assessment.
Calculation. Cold and measuring.
Then it was gone, replaced by that practiced, soothing expression.
“Serenity, you’re exhausted. You just gave birth.
You need to deliver the placenta still.” Her eyes flicked down to the baby in her arms—my baby, still crying, still perfect—then back to me.
“Besides, you’re a Nephilim. Your strength could accidentally hurt her if you’re not careful.
Let me make sure she’s stable first, then you can hold her all you want. ”
The words should have made sense. They sounded logical, professional, exactly what a good midwife would say.
But my blood ran cold.
My hands were still reaching, trembling in the air between us. My breasts ached, already filling with milk. My body knew my baby should be in my arms, skin to skin, nursing, bonding. She should be with me, not turned away, not held by someone else.
“You’re wrong,” I said through gritted teeth. “Give her to me. Please. Please, Prudence—”
Angelo’s hand tightened on mine so hard it hurt. When I looked at him, his face had gone completely still—that terrible vampire stillness that meant violence was seconds away. His eyes were locked on Prudence with an expression I’d only seen once before, when Balthazar had threatened me.
Pure, lethal rage.
“Prudence,” he said, and his voice—oh God, his voice was so soft, so deadly. Each word dripped with centuries of violence and the promise of pain. “Give Serenity her daughter. Now.”