Justin had clearly felt the same way I had, coldly setting up his wife as a spy to be inserted into his brother's pack. And his gamble would have worked on most single male alphas, since werewolf society expected those hotheads to run a bit wild in their youth. The average unmated alpha shifter wouldn't really expect to remember every girl he'd slept with over the last nine months, and, for this type of alpha, Sarah's scent alone would have been sufficient proof that he was the father of her unborn child.
But, of course, Wolfie wasn't that kind of alpha. I should have known my mate far too well to think that he would use a girl like Sarah for simple physical pleasure, then drop her without another word, and I was ashamed of my own gullibility. Even worse, I knew that my inability to see through what Wolfie had clearly considered a joke boded ill for my future career as a conniving pack princess.
Which was all beside the point at the moment, though, because the more relevant matter was the very pregnant young shifter who had taken one look at Cricket's angry countenance and finally managed to topple her chair over backwards. The girl's arms pinwheeled as she tried to regain her balance, and everyone except my stepmother sprang forward in an attempt to break her fall.
But we were all too late, because Blaze had swooped the girl into his arms and was carrying her up the stairs toward my bedroom without permission from me or from anyone else in the room. "Terra has an empty bed beside hers," the yahoo said quietly to the girl he was cradling against his chest. "And you need to lie down."
And weren't interesting times growing more interesting by the moment?
Chapter 7
When I finally calmed the other yahoos sufficiently to follow Blaze up the stairs, I found the youngster holding Sarah's hand as she lay curled into a ball on my spare bed. A few minutes of quiet should have relaxed our visitor, but, if anything, she looked worse now than when she'd been facing off against a pack of angry werewolves. In fact, it soon became apparent that my plan to welcome Sarah and then get back to work on All-Pack preparations would be soundly dashed.
What were you thinking sending a pregnant woman off on her own, I chided my absent mate, especially when she clearly needs to see a doctor? Despite being an alpha male, Wolfie wasn't usually oblivious to social intricacies, so it was surprising that he hadn't taken advantage of his access to the only werewolf-approved medical doctor in the region when this pack princess showed up on his doorstep. My brother-in-law Dale lived right over the mountain from my mate, and the doctor was clearly Sarah's best option for prenatal care. So why hadn't Wolfie chosen to keep his brother's mate close by?
As I wavered in the doorway, unsure of what to do with a very pregnant—and possibly ill—shifter, our guest whimpered and her face abruptly lost all color. Beside her, the strangely-devoted Blaze seemed torn between taking the girl into his arms or taking to his heels, and I didn't blame him one bit. Childbirth among werewolves was terrifying, with one in ten women giving birth to wolf cubs—bloodlings—rather than humans, resulting in very high mortality rates for mother and child alike. And since pregnant shifters couldn't risk being treated in hospitals, other complications abounded, making a werewolf's chances of survival even more slender when the time came to give birth.
Most female shifters my age wouldn't have been quite so horror-stricken at the idea of being in charge at an imminent birth, but I wasn't a conventional shifter. When I'd escaped the Wilder pack to live among humans, I'd been too young to have assisted at any births, so the only delivery I'd been privy to had been my own mother's ill-fated attempt to bear a son. I hadn't been in the room to see the furry bloodling come out from between my mother's bloody thighs, but her screams of agony had filled the entire house, and the sound haunted me to this very day. And since I'd never set eyes on my mother's smiling face after she disappeared into that delivery room, who would blame me for wanting to run as fast as I could in the other direction when our guest cupped her swollen belly and whimpered with pain?
Unfortunately, unlike Blaze, I was supposedly in charge around here. So it seemed that I would soon fill those gaps in my education.
"Um, do you think you're experiencing contractions?" I said at last, when Sarah continued to emit quiet, wolf-like whines, her head now turned toward the wall. I didn't really know how to tell if her child's arrival was imminent, but surely the teenager would be aware of what was going on within her own body. Or at least I hoped so.
Sarah didn't pretend to misunderstand, but to my surprise, the girl shook her head adamantly. Tears were coursing down her face and she was clearly in pain, but our guest appeared convinced that she was not giving birth.
And while I was able to stand up to angry werewolves twice my size, when it came to illness, I was a pure coward. So, with a quick explanation to the two young shifters curled atop the bed, I backed out of the room and ran for reinforcements. My stepmother would know what to do.
***
"No." I'd never heard Cricket speak so sternly, not even when Brooke and I had snuck out of the house one night to tag along on an illicit hunt planned by our male cousins, all of us coming home naked in the back of a patrol car in the early hours of the next morning. Even in times of stress, my stepmother had always been calm and collected, full of caring despite not being entirely keen on physical displays of affection. So I'd assumed she'd be glad to help our guest feel more comfortable.
But you know what they say about "assume...."
"That girl is not staying under my roof," Cricket continued, and I was glad that none of the yahoos had followed me into the kitchen in order to watch my dressing down. Because my usually gentle stepmother now had steel in her voice, and she spat out words as if they were unripe persimmon pulp—so bitter that the flesh made her mouth pucker in distaste. "She's a manipulator," my stepmother proclaimed, "and I don't want that kind of malice in my house. In fact, I'm surprised, you're letting that bitch stay in our village."
"Cricket," I started, not sure how to break through the rigid posture that had engulfed my stepmother's wolf. Because as I peered through her human skin, I could hardly believe my eyes—Cricket's lupine half actually appeared to be growling. If that wasn't out of character, I didn't know what was. Still, I had to at least try to appeal to my stepmother's rational side, so I continued: "Sarah needs our help...."
"What she needs is a swift kick in the pants," Cricket replied, speaking over me in yet another uncharacteristic display of temper. Two unrelated female shifters sharing a house was often a recipe for disaster, but the two of us had been managing quite well up until this point since we were both very careful not to step on each others' toes. As the Wilder's pack leader, my word was technically law, but this was Cricket's home and she was my father's mate, so I was used to letting the older woman have her way. And, over the last few weeks, peace had been maintained largely because Cricket was so malleable—as long as the yahoos and I didn't track too much mud over her clean floors, my stepmother appeared to be quite happy to cook and clean for any number of guests.
And maybe that was the problem. Perhaps I'd pushed things too far by turning the older woman into an unpaid housekeeper for myself and four rather slovenly yahoos. No wonder Cricket had finally cracked. "We need to pitch in more around here, don't we?" I asked, hoping that I'd found the root of my stepmother's displeasure. "Maybe you're sick of having the guys camp out on your couches? Or of the way they like to leave the toilet seat up and to drop their wet towels on the bathroom floor?" I didn't blame my stepmother one bit if that was the problem—I was growing tired of living with three young males as well. And, luckily, the yahoos in question tended to obey direct orders, so it should be relatively easy to get the household back onto a more even keel.
So Cricket's anger should have been easy to diffuse...if the yahoos had indeed been the problem, that is. But, apparently, they were not. "No," my stepmother contradicted, squashing that line of questioning with one curt word. "I enjoy having a full house and don't have a problem with any of those kids. But I
have to put my foot down when you tell me to house a snake under my roof." Then the same timid woman who had frequently asked—rather than told—her stepchildren to use their inside voices spun on her heel without further explanation and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her.
As the crash reverberated through my bones, I stood with my mouth gaping open and tried to gather my splintered thoughts before the yahoos could come to investigate. Figuring out what bee had gotten into Cricket's bonnet would have been nice, but the more pressing issue was— how could I handle Sarah without my stepmother's usual motherly advice?
Taking a deep breath, I looked around the kitchen and decided to start with a mug of herbal tea, to which I would add plenty of honey to take the edge off any lingering shock. Then I'd see about moving Sarah into one of my cousins' houses, making plans to drive the girl to my brother-in-law if and when her condition made proper medical care necessary.
So I guessed I could handle a terrifying pregnant woman after all. But it sure would have been easier if I'd had Cricket's help to fall back on.
***
"Any guest of yours is welcome here," my Aunt Bev said kindly as a cluster of young werewolves showed up on her doorstep an hour later. After sipping her tea, Sarah had seemed well enough to walk, and since I wanted to avoid another confrontation with my stepmother, I'd transferred our guest's housing to the top of my priority list. Cricket's house was now out of the question, so Bev's domicile seemed like the best solution to my newest problem.
My mother's sister, Aunt Bev, had lived alone with her son David for over a decade since her husband died, and I had a feeling that the plump shifter wouldn't mind one bit if Sarah spent the next week in her spare room. The older woman was my favorite aunt, a cheery, good-natured soul who acted as unofficial Haven midwife from time to time, and her son David could be counted on to treat Sarah fairly as well. Between them, mother and son should be able to keep both Sarah and her baby healthy, while also protecting the duo from any malicious acts on the part of more hidebound villagers. All things considered, I felt comfortable leaving Wolfie's gift in their care.
But despite feeling that the two relatives would make good hosts, I'd brought all of the yahoos along for moral support as I helped Sarah up onto Aunt Bev's porch. After all, my past experience suggested that there might be something about our guest that set middle-aged shifters off into uncharacteristic bouts of rage, and I wasn't quite willing to risk facing Aunt-Bev-turned-Wicked-Witch-of-the-West all by myself.
Luckily, Cricket's reaction to Sarah seemed to have been a one-off deal. "Come on in," Bev continued, holding the door open and not even batting an eyelash when half of the yahoos promptly forgot to wipe their feet before they filed through the entranceway. Our hostess left us milling about in the living room for a moment, then returned with a blanket to drape around our pregnant visitor and a stool upon which the girl could set her feet. "When are you due, dear?" Bev continued, and soon drew out the same story that Sarah had regaled us with previously, but this time told more simply and with less dramatic impact since Bev didn't know Wolfie well enough to be protective of my mate. And, once Sarah's tale was told, I was relieved to find that my aunt was quite willing to share the knowledge that she'd accumulated during her own pregnancies and while assisting at the deliveries of other members of the pack. Clearly, Sarah's medical issues would be easily diagnosed on my aunt's watch.
But the older woman's face grew grave as Sarah haltingly concluded her explanation of the pain in her belly. A pain that had grown so severe at its peak that the girl thought she was being clawed apart from the inside out. "But I feel okay now," Sarah finished, one hand drifting down to hover over her enlarged stomach. I could tell that our guest would just as soon have let the past be forgotten in order to focus on hoping for a brighter future, but Bev had other ideas.
"Well, we'll just take a look, why don't we?" my aunt said to the girl before turning to raise her eyebrows meaningfully at the yahoos.
Four young shifters peered back at Bev with the supreme obliviousness of youth and I thought for a moment that I'd have to speak up and clue the youngsters in. But before I could open my mouth, Wade colored and did my job for me. "I think she wants us to go, guys," he suggested, "so she can look Sarah over."
At Bev's confirmation, four youthful heads now turned my way, and I jutted my chin toward the door in confirmation. I figured that, even though werewolves didn't worry too much about group nudity, Sarah probably would feel more comfortable without a bunch of guys she barely knew staring at her naked belly. Heck, I'd feel more comfortable if I wasn't forced to see Sarah's pregnancy up close and personal, but we couldn't all get what we wanted, now could we?
Three of the yahoos clearly shared my trepidation, if the speed with which they headed out of my aunt's house was any indication. But Blaze hung back, unwilling to abandon the girl whom he'd rescued from my suddenly violent stepmother earlier that afternoon. "Do you want me to stay?" the yahoo asked, looking only at our guest rather than seeking permission from either his alpha or from the older woman whom he should by rights have respected. The action was my first indication that Blaze's crush was going to cause trouble, but I was more interested in ensuring Sarah's comfort at the moment, so I let the girl answer on her own.
"No, that's okay," Sarah said timidly, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor. And since none of us could really tell from the girl's expressionless face whether she wanted Blaze to stay or go, I figured that decision was up to me.
So I widened my eyes and lowered my chin meaningfully...and for a moment, I thought Blaze might refuse my unspoken order. The yahoo glowered right back at me, and I began to count the seconds, hoping this wouldn't turn into a scenario where I would finally have to rebuke a member of Wolfie's pack. Five seconds, ten, fifteen...and then, to my relief, Blaze dropped his eyes from mine, turned on his heel, and strode out of the room after his friends. So at least the yahoo wasn't untrainable, even if I could tell that Sarah's presence was going to make my role as the youth's alpha a bit more difficult for the foreseeable future.
"Well, now that we have that settled, why don't you just lie down here for a minute?" Bev said kindly, arranging a pillow beneath Sarah's head as the girl stretched out on the couch. The older woman pushed up our visitor's shirt to reveal the girl's baby bump and began gently prodding her patient's abdomen. "Does it hurt anywhere right now?" the older woman asked as she worked, and Sarah shook her head in negation. "And you said there hasn't been any bleeding?"
I did my best to pay attention, but I ended up tuning out the two women as Bev's examination continued. There were just so many problems whirling through my mind at the moment—Sarah's health, the upcoming All-Pack drama, and the ever-present power struggles within my own clan topping my list of worries. Plus, I really didn't want to think about pregnancy any more than I had to, not when my limited experience with shifter childbirth had been so gut-wrenching. But sticking my head in the sand suddenly ceased to be an option when Bev's words sunk into my reverie.
"I'm afraid your child is a bloodling," the older woman said a second time, and by the expression on Sarah's face, I suspected that the girl had already guessed as much. I, on the other hand, was so blindsided by what should have been an obvious diagnosis that I almost didn't hear Bev's explanation. "All of that excitement must have made the baby shift into wolf form," my aunt continued, trying to keep her voice relaxed.
But it was impossible to stay calm when all three of us knew what a wolf pup inside Sarah's womb meant. Women who bore bloodlings didn't survive. And, most of the time, neither did the pup.
Chapter 8
My first impulse was to ignore my father's mandate and to drive Sarah to my brother-in-law's house immediately. But, as Bev explained after she'd tucked our guest into bed with a book and yet another cup of hot tea, it was best to keep the mother-to-be calm in an effort to also keep the wolfling sedated within her womb. Both mother and child would have a better (if still sli
m) chance of life if the baby was allowed to grow all the way to term, so my aunt encouraged me to wait before moving our guest once again.
"Are you sure?" I whispered, hoping that Sarah wasn't able to hear us through the two closed doors that separated my aunt and me from the object of our conversation. "Wouldn't it be better to just go for a C-section and take the baby out?"
"I don't know anything about C-sections," Bev replied, pursing her lips contemplatively. "Although, wouldn't you have to keep the baby in some kind of incubator if you take it out too early?" My aunt made a good point that I had forgotten due to spending so much of my early adulthood around non-shifters—werewolves' inability to take advantage of hospitals definitely worked against us if we were hoping to keep a preemie baby alive. But if a C-section was the only way to save Sarah, wasn't the mother more important than the child?
"I don't really know if you're right or wrong," my aunt continued as I tried to work through the repercussions of various potential actions. "But I do know that, of the five women who bore bloodlings on my watch, the only one who survived was kept calm and comfortable until the baby was ready to come out on its own. And even though the other women died, they were fine until the day of birth."
Bev's words carried more weight than mine in this department due to her vastly superior experience, so I conceded the point. "Alright," I agreed, but I silently resolved to get in touch with my brother-in-law in the near future anyway. Dale had to be exempt from my father's restrictions against contacting my mate—after all, the man was wholly human and not technically a part of any shifter pack. Plus, I would completely ignore my father's wishes, if necessary, in the interest of keeping Sarah and her baby alive.
So I agreed with my aunt's conventional wisdom and left our guest in Bev's capable hands. But I couldn't stop thinking about my own little brother, whom my father had drowned in the duck pond over a decade before, leaving me without both mother and sibling alike. And I resolved then and there that, if I had anything to say about it, Sarah's family would never share the same loss that my family had lived through. Not on my watch.
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