Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
THORNE
The wind gusts as my mount comes to a landing. Silver slows quickly, his wings tucking in before he comes to a complete stop. I dismount swiftly, tapping my communicator as I jog across the field.
Asher’s voice comes through instantly. “I already sent them. You should see them in a minute,” he says. “Romi went into labor early.”
I freeze mid-step, my heart pounding. “She’s not dangerously early,” Asher reassures me.
“I’ve already been given multiple updates as I flew back into the protected skies above our town.
The medical team has kept Jane informed, and she’s with Romi at the hospital.
She promises me everyone is healthy and safe. ”
“Everyone?” I practically yelp.
Asher chuckles. “Yes. Romi and your daughter are safe and healthy.”
My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might break a rib.
Just as I reach the gate to the area, I spot one of the medical crafts waiting alongside one of the princess’s personal transports.
I ensure the gate is locked behind me and leap onto the craft.
As far as I’m concerned, they can’t move fast enough.
I’m impatient even though I know they’re flying as fast as they safely can through town on the way to the hospital.
Moments later, we arrive, and I jump off before the craft has even fully stopped, earning a warm-hearted rebuke from the driver. “Easy there,” he calls over his shoulder. “And congratulations, by the way.”
“Thank you!” I toss back as I sprint toward the entrance of the medical facility. I skid to a stop at the reception desk, barely able to catch my breath.
The receptionist looks up, smiling warmly. “Yes?”
“Romi—she went into labor early,” I gasp.
“Oh, yes.” Her smile remains steady. “The princess is with her. Room at the end of the hall.”
I don’t even know how long it’s been since I spoke to Asher. Time has lost all meaning. I won’t settle until I’m beside my mate.
I feel the pull of our bond tightening with every step. Just as I’m about to lift my hand to knock on the door, it swings open.
Jane smiles warmly. “You’re here.” She grabs my hand, pulling me inside before pressing a finger to her lips. “Shhh. She’s resting. I’ll be right outside.”
Romi is asleep, propped comfortably against the pillows, our daughter resting in her arms. My heart is in my throat, emotions slamming into me so hard it feels like I might break apart from the force of them.
The protectiveness rising within me is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt—and considering I’ve spent my life as a bodyguard and a spy, that’s saying something.
Our little girl is perfect; her tiny body curls against her mother’s with her small, shimmering blue tail tucked around her hips.
Romi’s lashes flutter, her lips curving into a soft, tired smile as she sees me. “You’re here.”
“I am.”
“We didn’t expect her today.” She shifts slightly, tapping a button on the side of the bed so it lifts her up a little more. “It was so fast—” she starts, but the door opens, and her doctor enters.
The doctor glances between Romi, our baby, and me. “As I mentioned earlier, human women from Earth often have slightly different gestation periods here. It’s not an exact science. Romi, you seem to have an even shorter one than most, but your baby is completely healthy.”
I swallow hard. “And Romi?”
The doctor nods. “She’s very healthy. The labor was quick.”
I shake my head. “I tried to get back in time.”
Romi’s tone is dry as she replies, “I think it’s best you didn’t. You would’ve been so stressed out, it would’ve been a problem.”
The doctor chuckles. “Perhaps.”
I watch as Romi shifts, adjusting our daughter against her. She’s already nursed, and everything looks peaceful.
The doctor asks me, “Would you like to hold her?”
Before I can even process it, Romi is handing her to me. She is so tiny, so perfect, and suddenly, I’m afraid. I’ve never held a newborn before—especially not my newborn.
But the moment she’s in my arms, everything else fades away. She blinks up at me, and her dark eyes—so like Romi’s—stare into mine with an intensity that steals my breath. I could swear she already knows me.
The doctor watches as I hold our daughter like she’s the most fragile being in the universe. And to me, in this moment, she is.
Her little tail twitches against my thigh, and she lets out a tiny sound, curling her fists before stretching her hands open and nuzzling against me.
I swallow hard, my voice rough. “I think she wants to nurse.”
Romi reaches for her, and I watch, mesmerized, as she adjusts our daughter against her, guiding her to latch. It’s the most intimate, powerful thing I’ve ever witnessed. The love I feel in this moment is bigger than I can even contain in my heart.
“Do you have any questions before I leave you two?” the doctor asks.
I try to focus, taking a shaky, unsteady breath. “I—uh, I hope not. Is there anything I need to know about feeding her or anything like that?”
“She’s nursing well, as you can see,” the doctor assures me. “My main advice is to make sure Mama gets plenty of rest. Within the week, the support nanny agency will reach out to help keep the house clean, take care of errands—anything needed so Mama and baby can rest and stay healthy.”
She checks in with Romi as I stare down at our little girl. Her tiny eyes blink open, and my heart lurches.
The doctor leaves, and Romi asks, “How are you?”
I glance at her, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes. “Just glad you’re okay. That she’s okay. I can’t believe she’s here.”
“Are you ready to go home?” Romi asks.
“Whenever you are,” I say. Then, softer, I admit, “I’m nervous.”
The responsibility of caring for an actual child suddenly slams into me. However, I remain calm. We have a week together to adjust to it, and then we can decide how much support we want from the nannies.
Standing beside the bed, I’m looking down when our little girl’s eyes open. My chest is suddenly tight again as she stares at me. Her gaze is solemn and intent, just as Romi’s is.
Watching Romi with our daughter is nearly overwhelming. I couldn’t have imagined it before, but somehow, our infinity pulse feels even stronger.