by Anne Marsh
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I growl.
“The fuck? You want me to ask if you’re making sweet, sweet love to her?” His voice is rough, like he’s thinking about ripping out my throat right here in the middle of the party.
“You talk about fucking Marly?”
“Marly’s my old lady. My mate.”
“Yeah.” I fidget with the bottle on the bar. My skin itches, my wolf demanding we shed this stupid human skin with its rules and its words. Go for a run in the bayou, do some hunting. The problem is that then I’ll just end up at Rain’s, whining at her front door to be let in. I have no self-control around that woman.
Ware shoots me an incredulous look. “So that’s nothing like your casual pussy, you feel me?”
Self-control is over-rated. I move fast, slamming Ware up against the wall, my fingers closing over his throat. He’s a big guy, but so am I, and hearing him talk shit about Rain is all the motivation I need. His fingers close over mine, a growl tearing from his throat.
“Rain is not casual pussy.”
I know he doesn’t get this thing I have with Rain. Fuck, I don’t get it either. Mostly I bang a chick and move on. Okay. I always move on. But Rain is different. She makes me want to be different. I’m like a fucking Hallmark card because while I’ll never be good, I just want to be good enough for her.
“The midwife? You’ve known her for how long?” Ware’s fist jackhammers into my side. I slam him hard against the wall.
“How long did it take you before you knew that Marly was yours?”
Ware launches himself at me. Guess he’s not a fan of playing question-and-answer. I can either snap his neck or roll with him, so I hit the floor hard. A circle forms around us, boots and denim-covered legs containing our fights. Usually, guys take the fight outside, but everyone knows I don’t play by the rules.
Fighting feels good. Probably because it’s all about feeling, not thinking. Okay. So not all of it feels good—Ware’s a mean son-of-a-bitch and when his fist hammers into my jaw, I see stars.
“Are you telling me that you think Rain is your mate?”
He bellows his revelation loud enough that the guys have to hear it. I return his punch and knock him off my ribcage. Fuck, that wolf is heavy.
“Maybe?”
He shoves up into a sitting position. The music’s still blasting, the pass-arounds shimmying up a storm on the dance floor. Nothing’s changed, except that I don’t want to be out there, drunk off my ass, looking for a fight and a fuck. Not missing Rain is taking everything I’ve got. I keep looking for her on the edges of the room, but she’s not here because I didn’t ask her to be. Maybe she wouldn’t have come if I had, but now I’ll never know.
“You thought Keelie Sue was your mate.” Ware shoves to his feet and then extends a hand to me. There’s a brief pause while our brothers wait to see if I’ll just take the chance to punch the shit out of Ware while he’s doing the whole olive-branch thing. It’s tempting, but I’m still hoping he can explain things to me.
So I take his hand and let him haul me to my feet.
Ouch.
“I thought Keelie Sue was a shortcut.” I shrug. “And I liked her. She’s hot and she’s nice.”
“Jace is gonna kill you one of these days,” Ware observes.
“Probably. But I’m not gonna touch his girl, not like that.”
“Because Jace would kick your ass.”
“Because Keelie Sue doesn’t want me. Jesus. Did you have to punch my face so hard?”
Ware shakes his head. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Tell me how you made it work with Marly. She was Big Dog’s toy and he hurt her bad, so there’s no way she thought oh thank fuck, my man’s a biker and a member of the MC. I’ll bet she made you work for it.”
“You want a twelve-step plan?” Ware sounds incredulous.
“Shorter would be better.” It’s my turn to shrug. Something pops in my back. As soon as I shift, things will mend, but right now it hurts like a motherfucker.
Ware mutters a curse. “I don’t know, okay? I just tried to show her I was the better man.”
“I’m definitely better than the Dick Ex. That’s not enough.”
“What exactly do you want from her?”
And that’s the question, isn’t it? If I want a… mate. Forever. A family. I’m not sure I really know what any of those words means, but I’m also not sure I have to know. Feelings aren’t really something you look up in a dictionary. They’re just something that happens and that are either right—or they’re not. Rain is right and no way I want to lose her.
“Look.” Ware shoves a hand over his head. His knuckles are scraped and bloody, which likely explains the stinging sensation in my face. “You’ve slept with her, right?”
“Yeah. More than once.”
I know my reputation. I’m a once-and-done man. I don’t visit the same place twice. The pass-arounds have a standing five-hundred-dollar bet that no one can do me twice. I don’t like making them feel bad, but I don’t get attached and I don’t make friends.
Ware looks at me and nods, like he’s adding two and two in his head and he’s getting the right answer. “Why?”
“How the fuck should I know? She’s just different, okay?”
Ware gives me another nod. It’s not like he hasn’t banged random chicks in his day, but now that he’s mated with Marly, he’s the king of monogamy. I respect that. When you have a mate, you don’t fuck around on the side. You don’t need to do it. You don’t want to do it. You’ve already got the perfect woman and only a fool would fuck that up.
Which I guess answers the question of why I’m not out there on the dance floor picking out a treat for tonight. I don’t want to. I don’t need to. Rain is perfect and…
Keelie Sue interrupts my happy fantasy. “Fang?”
“What’s up, honey?” I turn around. Keelie Sue’s not tall. She’s pretty much armpit height, small and sweetly curved. Since Jace’s super sperm worked its havoc on her, she’s also gotten larger and larger. Right now, she looks kinda like she’s swallowed the Hindenburg. Her ginormous pregnant belly stretches the front of her pink sundress. She’s two feet away from me, but we’re practically touching. I reach down and pat the bump.
Okay. So it’s more of a mountain. Or an iceberg. Or…
What the fuck?
The bump-berg tightens and contracts beneath my palm. Keelie Sue clenches her fists and makes some weird whistle-pant noise through her mouth.
“Get Jace,” she orders.
“Honey?”
“Get. Jace,” she bites out. “I’m having the baby.”
Beside me, Ware curses, fumbling for his phone.
“Now?” It’s fucking dark o’clock and in the middle of a rocking pack party. Rain warned me that babies make their own schedule, but this is ridiculous.
Keelie Sue doesn’t answer. I’m not sure she can. She makes this awful moaning sound and then my wolf hears a gush of water. Human me is still trying to process what the fuck is happening when the big ass puddle on the floor beneath her makes things clear.
Baby.
She’s having the baby right here in the clubhouse.
She’s having the baby now.
“Okay.” I try to remember what the goddamned baby book said to do and give up. My mind’s a blank and all I’ve got now are instincts—and they’re screaming do something. “I’ve gotcha.”
I spring into action, ripping off my colors and tucking them around her. I don’t think she’s gonna want the whole room staring at her while she gets down to bringing baby wolf into the world. A second later, I’ve got her in my arms, wet seeping into my T-shirt as she wraps her arms around my neck in a death grip, and I’m running for the door at record-splitting speeds. Ware’s right behind me.
As I blow through the door, I skid to a brief halt and toss an order at the prospect standing there. “Clean up on Aisle Six.”
Keelie Sue punche
s me in the arm. The prospect stares at me like I’m spouting Greek. “There’s a puddle by the bar. Get a mop. Get on it.”
He’ll figure it out. I pick up speed again, find the truck I’ve kept parked at the clubhouse just in case, and deposit Keelie Sue on the front seat. Then, I hop in my seat and text Rain.
Mayday. Baby incoming. Meet us at the birthing center?
Ware skids to a halt by the driverside window. “Imma find Jace.”
Keelie Sue turns her head and glares at him. “Hurry up.”
I’m not sure Ware has ever seen Keelie Sue when she’s feeling a little take-charge and growly. He stares at her as if she’s shifted into something twelve feet tall and carnivorous. I’m not sure why he’s surprised. How the fuck would he feel if he had a miniature wolf trying to claw its way out of his body through his dick?
I pat Keelie Sue’s shoulder gingerly. “He’ll find Jace.”
Ware nods vigorously and peels away. He’s solid, and he’ll do what he’s promised. I’m sure he’s halfway to finding Jace by now.
Me, on the other hand? I’m shooting blanks. I check my phone. No answer. No bouncing texting dots. I page Rain again, just for insurance. She swears she’s never missed a page, but it can’t hurt to page again. Keelie Sue groans in the seat next to me. She can’t have the baby in my truck. She just can’t. Okay. If Rain’s not at the center when we get there, I’ll find her. Driving at warp speed seems like a good idea, but not dying also appeals. I buckle Keelie Sue in, hit the gas, and peel out of the parking lot, settling for a nice, steady sixty-miles-an-hour. We reach the clinic in a record twelve minutes, during which time Keelie Sue curses and pants her way through two more contractions.
After the first one, I offer her my hand because she’s digging her nails into my upholstery as if she needs something to hang onto. She clamps on, and holy fuck, the woman is a human vise. I brake, park, and wonder if she’s gonna break my hand as she works through contraction number three.
“You gotta let go for a minute, honey.”
The pressure eases up and her nails retract. I think she half-shifted because the back of my hand’s bleeding. I wipe my hands on my jeans and run around the truck, pausing just long enough to grab my duffel from the bed. Thirty seconds later, we’re standing in front of the birthing center. The door’s unlocked—halle-fucking-lujah—and from the number of cars parked haphazardly in the lot, we’re tonight’s second act. There’s also plenty of noise coming from down the hall. That baby momma’s a sobber.
The nurse greets us before I can barge down the hall and find a bed for Keelie Sue. I force myself to be polite. Pissing off the gate guardian isn’t smart. Keelie Sue’s done most of the paperwork already but she still has to sign a small mountain of paper before the nurse leads us down the hall at a nice, civilized, way-too-slow pace.
“You want to pick your room, honey?” The nurse smiles like everything’s NBFD at Keelie Sue, who is grimly marching down the hall. Since she won’t let me pick her up again, I’ve got my arm around her. I don’t think she should be walking, but I’m a baby-making expert, not a doula.
This is taking too long. Keelie Sue needs to get off her feet, now. Even better, maybe she can pop the baby out in the next twenty minutes. She’s always been the pack’s princess, our queen, and the best of us, so I don’t think she should have a problem overachieving in this area and breaking all world speed records for labor and delivery.
I kick open a door. “You like this one, honey?”
Keelie Sue looks around, moans, and punches me in the arm. The nurse doesn’t look shocked. “Where’s Jace?”
The baby book warned me that pregnant women can seem irrational when in the “throes of labor.” Still not sure what the fuck that really means, but I’ve decided I should go with whatever she says. “He’s on his way.”
I lead her to bed, but the wet spot on my T-shirt reminds me that she’s still dripping. I peel my colors off her and toss them on a chair. I drop the bag on the floor.
“You wanna change?”
Keelie Sue grins at me. “You still trying to get me naked, Fang?”
“Always.” I wink at her.
The nurse’s gaze flicks between me and Keelie Sue, clearly trying to figure out how the two of us fit together.
“I’m the friend,” I say.
Nursie nods.
“You got a birthing bag?” she asks.
Keelie Sue stops smiling. “It’s in Jace’s truck.”
“I’ve got a back-up bag right here.” I toe the duffel with my boot.
Just think of me as a rock. A dirty, crude, loyal rock. I’ve Googled and I’ve made a mental note of everything Rain’s ever told me about what women want when they’re in labor—and I’ve brought it all in an enormous, military-grade duffel. Tennis balls (because it’s better she squeeze the shit out of those than the ones hanging off my Alpha or me), a bathrobe, lollipops in case her mouth gets dry. Three pairs of pajamas, a nightdress, and a nightshirt because the logistics of popping out a baby fully clothed seem tricky. Fuzzy socks, coconut water, and a bunch of scented candles. Not sure what she likes, but now she’s got options to make her room smell like a fruit bowl or a bordello. Even fucking snapped a picture of Jace and got it printed out and stuffed into a picture frame she can stand up on her bedside table.
Problem is, the only thing she wants is Jace. Twenty minutes later, that’s perfectly clear. After I turn around and face the wall like a good boy (and also because no way I want to explain to Jace that I saw his mate naked), Keelie Sue’s handled her wardrobe change on her own. She’s clean, she’s dry, and she’s propped up on the bed trying to pretend the contractions are fine and dandy.
I’m not sure who came up with this whole childbirth thing. Not being a complete pagan, I’m aware of Adam and Eve and how contractions are supposed to be some kind of punishment for her asking questions and getting Adam into shit with God. It’s a weak explanation. I’m sure there’s some scientific explanation for why her body’s gotta rip itself apart, but right now I’m just grateful I’m not a girl. That shit looks like it hurts a lot. I feel a whole new sympathy for the sobber down the hall now.
And when Rain comes in, I’m pathetically grateful.
“Fix this.” I point to Keelie Sue on the bed.
Rain gives me a distracted but patronizing smile. “You want him to stay, honey?”
I can’t remember the last time I let someone other than Jace give me orders. Right now, however, I’m happy to let Rain take charge. I just need her to make Keelie Sue feel better and get that baby out of her.
“Stay,” Keelie Sue says to me.
Huh.
I’m not sure what I expected her to say. I mean, I fully intended to insist on staying put. Until Jace gets here, Imma look out for her. But the truth is—I don’t belong here. I don’t know how to be her “emotional support” or her “rock,” which is what the baby book claims a birthing partner needs to be.
Keelie Sue makes another low, pained noise and shoves her hand at me. I haul ass to her side and let her crush the bones in my hand while the nurse and Rain check things out south of the border. Thank fuck for the big blue sheet they’ve got draped over Keelie Sue’s knees.
“Four centimeters,” Rain announces.
Let’s translate that, shall we?
“How much longer?”
Rain’s eyes dance. “There’s no way to know, big guy. Thirty minutes, a couple of hours, tomorrow. Could be A, B, C, or D—none of the above. But Keelie Sue’s doing great.”
I’m just about to protest—because that seems barbaric—when Keelie Sue pats my hand with her free one. “I’m okay,” she says.
Right.
As if excruciating pain that’s gonna last for half of forever is okay? The next hour just proves my point. Keelie Sue does her thing, breathing and panting through each contraction. And since I can’t do anything about the pain, I do my best to hurry up the find-Jace-and-drag-his-ass-here mission. Turns out I�
�m an awesome one-handed texter.
About the hundredth time I rip off Where the fuck r u? to Ware, he finally responds. Ware’s five minutes out and he’s got Jace. Good man. I excuse myself—thank fuck—and go out to meet Ware. The sobber’s still crying her heart out down the hall, but I don’t know how to fix that, either.
Maybe I should still try?
I turn to the nurse who’s hovering in the hall, watching me go. “Is the sobber okay?”
She pokers up like I’ve asked if she’s on the rag or how much she weighs.
“Right. HIPAA crap.” Rephrase. “Let me know if there is something I can do, ‘kay?”
That doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s something and it’ll have to do. I lope out into the parking lot just as Ware comes tearing in. Given his rate of speed and his abuse of the curbs, I half expect the boys in blue to be hot on his ass. The road behind them remains dark, so I man the door as Jace bursts out of the truck at a dead run.
“Where is she?”
Since he’s not waiting for an answer, I run after him. He barrels past the nurse and skids to a halt in the hallway. Pretty sure Jace pales at the sound of the sobber, but we’ve already established that there’s nothing I can do about that. Instead, I point to Keelie Sue’s door. If Jace was less rattled, he’d have sniffed her out.
My Alpha actually hesitates. “Is she—”
“She’s doing great,” I tell him. “But she needs her mate.”
Look at me—telling the truth. Because it is true. Keelie Sue has this, and while she could do it on her own, she’d rather do it with Jace. He’s the one who’s earned his place by her side.
“Thanks,” he says gruffly, smacking me on the shoulder.
“Sorry I fucked shit up,” I offer, seeing as how it’s a use-your-words night.
We both grunt.
Okay. We’re so good now.
Jace knocks on the door. Pretty sure he’d rather burst through it, but he’s a little off-balance. I get it. The door pops open and Rain smiles at him.
“You’re just in time,” she says.
