by Diana Seere
And then Lilah let out a soundless vibration, a giant clench of her entire torso, and the baby emerged into Jess’s gloved hand, completely encased by the amniotic sac.
“Jessica!” Derry bellowed, his voice laden with shock.
“Someone get a towel! A blanket! Anything!” Jess called out.
Molly grabbed a throw blanket off a nearby chair. “You have to break the waters! The baby can’t breathe,” she cried out.
“No!” Everyone in the room, Zach included, all shouted. He looked around, amazed, and Sophia wondered how he knew.
“This is how wolves are born,” Sophia said softly. “I’ve seen it.”
“Born in the caul,” Zach murmured. “It can happen to humans. And for a short time, the baby survives via the umbilical cord.”
“But Lilah isn’t a full shifter!” Asher called out from the doorway. Sophia knew exactly why the man didn’t come into the room. “We need to treat this as a human birth.”
Looking at the opaque sac in Jess’s arms, the fibrous bubble in the chenille throw under the baby, Sophia took a moment to watch, transfixed.
And then the sac simply burst on its own, spraying Jess, who didn’t seem to care.
The room stilled like the eye of a storm.
The baby looked up at Jess, eyes wide, blinking slowly. It did not cry. It simply watched, moving slowly, as if still in water, an old soul come to life.
“Hi, little nephew,” Jess said in a tender, magical voice filled with awe. Sophia’s throat swelled with emotion. Her nephew, too.
Gavin’s son.
Lilah leaned forward on all fours, her head dipped down, Gavin’s eyes darting between his wife and his child.
“Gavin! Your baby is here! Come meet him,” Jess called.
“Him?” Gavin choked. “A son?”
Lilah took shallow breaths, blinking rapidly, head twisted back to look at the bundle in Jess’ arms. “Please,” she begged, “give me my baby.” Jess moved with great tenderness toward her sister, bringing the baby to her as Lilah moved to a sitting position, her back resting against Gavin, who turned himself into a human wall for her. As Jess handed their baby to them, the room filled with love, as if Sophia could breathe it like oxygen.
But only for a few breaths.
A lingering shudder went through Lilah as her belly shimmered, the second baby inside. Sophia knew in theory that twin births often took a pause between babies.
After the craziness of the last—she looked at a wall clock for the time.
Four minutes.
Only four minutes?
It felt like a lifetime.
Zach’s entire body hummed.
Using the tongs he’d found in Gavin’s kitchen, he carefully removed the scissors from the still-steaming water, placing them on what he hoped was a reasonably clean kitchen towel, one he’d discovered in a drawer, neatly folded.
He froze.
Cutting the umbilical cord was important, but he needed a clamp as well. His paramedic training had been useful for emergencies that involved transport, the patient handed off to better-trained nurses and doctors.
He’d never been in a position of giving ongoing care to a patient. The next few steps blurred. He knew the cord could remain attached for quite some time, so there was no rush. But after cutting the cord, then what?
For a few moments, no more than a handful of deep breaths, the entire room had been filled with the glow of new life, of connection, as if every person and object became one. He took it all in, accepting the power that came with the inexplicable vibration, and then he felt it dissipate as the second baby’s birth became more urgent.
Pulse beating in his ears—sadly, only his, not Sophia’s—he took a moment to ground himself. Chaos reigned in the room, all the women in tears, the men wearing masks of protective worry, the air reeking of birth mingled with the scent of the unknown.
Zach inhaled it, found the breath grounding, but the scent itself carried information, emotion, a path forward. Odors didn’t have meaning in his human life other than at their most basic level. Good food roasting triggered his salivary glands. The scent of an aroused woman made him hard. Industrial smells could be a sign of warning, of malfunction. And lab scents were to be avoided in general.
As he willed his panic centers to remain at rest, the control centers in his mind took over, scanning the room for information, his nose an unlikely source. Combined with that strange change in depth perception, he felt a synergy within, a knowledge that was less about information and more about instinct.
Power.
Not physical power, though. Zach had that in spades. Something so much deeper, a primal understanding of layers to the room, dimensions no one else inhabited.
The scent turned from simple information to foreboding, a darker danger emerging. He looked at Jess, who suddenly, sharply, caught Molly’s eye.
Their eyes narrowed.
They knew.
They knew, just like Zach knew, his body crawling toward Lilah just as her scent changed, dropping sharply, the baby remaining in her belly in danger.
“Lilah!” Jess cried out, her hands on her sister’s shoulders as she paled. “The second baby.”
Gavin took their son from Lilah, whose grip on him was starting to go limp, her eyes unfocused. Jess’s hands went to her sister’s belly, her body jolting as if she could tell from touch alone that the babe was in distress. Zach looked at her and felt—instantly just felt—that Jess had some power to heal, to see, to divine a deeper level of existence.
And that even she was in panic mode.
“It’s transverse! Sideways! We have to get her out,” Jess shouted, looking at Lilah with heartbreaking urgency, touching her sister’s face, trying to get Lilah to concentrate.
“Her? It’s a girl?” Gavin choked, looking at Zach. “Do something!” he demanded.
Zach felt the baby’s pulsing cord inside Lilah as it slowed, the silence between the beats growing longer. Molly came up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder, then touched Jess.
“We can do this, but it will take all three of us. Jess has healing powers. I have the sight. But we need you, Zach. I can see it.” Her fingers dug into his shoulder. “I can feel it. But you are the one who must act.”
“I’m just a paramedic! I don’t know how to turn a baby without—” Killing it, he almost said, horrified by the mixture of his own vision forward of all the ways this could go wrong, of the gravid responsibility of this tiny life in his hands, of his own ignorance and fear.
And of his captivity.
“You know,” Molly urged. “You know.”
He realized his mistake instantly; the world transformed, like slamming the wrong door shut and opening the right one. Of course.
For the entire emergency, he had been thinking like a human.
Time to just be whatever he was now and to let that guide him to save the baby.
“Lilah’s energy is fading,” Molly whispered in his ear. No one else turned. His body went numb, then roared to life with a pulse that felt like a gallop. “Save them both. Now. You have the power. We have the power. But we can’t without you.”
Closing his eyes, he set his hands on Lilah’s belly, aligned opposite Jess’s, their hands like a compass pointing in four directions. A magnetic pull brought his palms deeper into Lilah’s flesh, her thin skin giving him access to the baby as if he reached through her and cradled the babe in his hands. In an instant, he felt the new life’s soul, as if it were an object he could hold.
Come to us, he thought. It is safe here. You are safe. You are loved.
Every person in the room stared at him in that second, and while he felt their energy and knew they heard his words, he focused on the little girl inside Lilah, who—he swore—smiled.
And began to turn toward home.
Chapter 10
Sophia only saw the little girl. One moment the baby was suffering, unseen, unable to join them. The next, she was there in Sophia�
�s waiting arms, wrapped in the caul as her brother was, but then suddenly she was free of it, eyes wide, a curiously impossible smile upon her rosy lips.
Her baby gaze met Sophia’s.
“Welcome, darling,” Sophia whispered, shaking with joy and weeping like a madwoman as she gently embraced the baby after Zach handed her off. “Such a pleasure to meet you.”
“Please,” Lilah gasped, lifting her arms. A bloom of color had returned to her cheeks.
Sophia was ashamed at her reluctance to part with her niece. But what a joy! Smiling, she stole a kiss on the damp, downy head before arranging the baby in her mother’s arms. As Lilah helped the girl settle at her breast, silence fell over the room.
“Both of them, please,” Lilah said, her voice already getting stronger. A grin was plastered on her face.
Gavin, openly weeping, carried their son as if he were a soap bubble in a tornado of flying darts. He set the baby in Lilah’s free arm, gently kissed Lilah’s forehead, stroked his daughter’s tiny cheek, and embraced the trio with outstretched arms. Then he ducked his head like a man in prayer, supporting and being supported by his wife, his son, his daughter.
As she watched, Sophia wiped her nose, crying as openly as everyone else in the room. A wave of intense longing came over her, but it wasn’t a negative feeling like jealousy or envy or greed. It was simply the recognition in a moment of raw, honest emotion that she wanted this for herself. A baby. Perhaps two.
Someday.
Someday soon.
“Everyone out,” Gavin announced. “We’d like to be alone.”
Well, she could do without the overprotective, rude, domineering male.
“Now!” Gavin barked.
“Gavin, honey, we’ll need some help with the babies,” Lilah said.
“Zach may return in ten minutes,” Gavin said. “To make sure everyone is all right.”
“Me?” Zach asked in surprise. “Why not Jess or Sophia or—?”
“You,” Gavin said, meeting his gaze.
His voice didn’t allow argument, and Sophia realized she was too exhausted to put up a fight anyway. How embarrassing. It wasn’t as if she were the one who’d given birth, but she was fighting a yawn, and her legs were weak.
“Zach will return in ten minutes,” Asher said. He stood in the doorway, his face a wall of granite—dry, pale, and expressionless. “The rest of us will wait outside. The doctor, unfortunately, will not arrive for at least another hour.” His scathing tone suggested this doctor would never receive another call from a Stanton in the future, no matter the emergency.
Zach looked at Asher, confusion raging over his face. “You trust me with… with—Really?”
“I’m merely implementing Gavin’s wishes,” Asher said. “Is that acceptable to you as well, Lilah?”
Lilah’s eyes were closed. She smiled and nodded, lost in the daze of nursing her two babies, the relief evident in her face as a nine-and-a-half-month journey came to an end at the same time another chapter of life began.
Sophia yawned, again feeling ridiculous that she, too, would feel so exhausted. Following the others, she left the room, her feet and eyelids heavy. Jess lingered at the doorway, obviously annoyed to be excluded.
“I’m returning with you, Zach,” she said. “I don’t care what Gavin said.”
“Cool with me,” Zach said. “I don’t belong here.”
Jess turned on him. “Don’t say that. Of course you do. You saved her life. You saved the baby’s life. I don’t know what you did or how you did it, but you… you…” Jess bit her lip, her eyes pooling with another fresh lake of tears. “I felt you turn her. Inside. I felt the baby’s distress. I felt Lilah falter—” Her voice caught on a sob. She threw her arms around Zach and rocked from side to side.
Zach held her, stroking her hair and looking bewildered. “I don’t understand what I did. Please don’t cry.”
Sophia watched them, as confused as Zach. What had he done? How had he done it? There were mysteries to those inventions in Gavin’s labs that they were only just beginning to discover. Zach wasn’t a shifter going through puberty, he was a human going through a chemical metamorphosis they didn’t comprehend.
Feeling overwhelmed, Sophia wiped away another tear, then yawned. She had to find a place to rest or she was going to pass out in Gavin and Lilah’s living room. Her own cabin was a bit of a hike, but the fresh air would revive her. And then she could have a quick nap before returning to offer her assistance, however unwanted or unneeded it was.
She slipped out the door without a word and took the path to her house. It felt like a lifetime since she’d woken in Zach’s bed—was that only that morning? The sun was still bright with hours left of daylight. She strode into the house, over the Persian rug and its memories, tripped on the stairs up to her room, and fell into her massive four-poster bed, already half-asleep.
And began dreaming immediately. At first the dreams were wordless, the dreams of a bear, filled with smells, tastes, sounds. Her bear self ambled through the woods and streams, taking what she needed, the warm sun on her fur, the cold water rushing over her paws, a struggling fish in her jaws.
Although she’d never admitted it to Derry, she was more comfortable in her human form and put off their annual hibernation as long as possible. Her preference for humanity was one reason she indulged in lots of sex during those weeks leading up to their annual rest at the ranch. She enjoyed company and conversation, and bears were seldom interested in either. Nursing fulfilled her, in part, because she could spend more time with other people, not as a statuesque billionaire known for sleeping around but as a woman with a purpose.
But the bear form was restful, and a few minutes dreaming in that shape was deeply refreshing. The trauma and excitement of the births eased somewhat, and she felt herself sink into a deeper sleep, without any dreams at all.
Then she woke with a start, the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.
And she understood. She understood herself.
I want a baby, she thought.
The big, heavy hand that appeared suddenly on Zach’s shoulder as he comforted Jess went from friendly to threatening without a word. Derry Stanton’s grip spoke a thousand words, all of them condensed down to just a handful at the core:
Stop touching my woman.
As he gently removed himself from Jess’ embrace, Zach smelled, heard, felt, saw every emotion in the room, like little signals in wave and particle coming through to him, transmitted between each person in the room and some receptor in his body. The babies were suddenly part of this system, their emotions simple and direct, easy to track; they were nothing but love.
Pure love.
His nerves felt frayed and split, waving in the wind, easy to damage. Looking about, he sensed a loss.
Sophia was gone.
The door opened so hard it banged against the wall, and in walked a harried man, face grave, brows turned down. His hair was shoulder length, a mix of salt and pepper, dark, round eyes serious. He carried a large duffel bag that Zach recognized instantly. A medical bag.
“I’m Dr. Santino. Where is the—” His voice cut off instantly as he looked over Zach’s shoulder and saw Lilah on the ground, breasts unveiled, babies attached, Gavin curled around his wife and children like a proud husband and father, an idiot grin on his face.
At Lilah’s feet there was ample evidence of the messiness of the births he had just missed.
“My goodness,” the doctor said softly, chagrin in his voice. “I’m too late. Crosswinds made travel difficult, and the last report said she wasn’t even in true labor.”
“You put her and the babies at risk,” Asher said from behind them, his voice nothing but icicles and contempt.
“Asher,” the doctor said with a well-worn sigh, “while I am, like you, a shifter, my powers do not extend to being able to change wind patterns or altering time so that I can arrive faster. If you have somehow found a solution to these dilemmas—and if anyone c
an, it’s a Stanton—I am all ears.”
“Given that you are a rabbit shifter, you certainly are all ears, Santino,” Derry said jovially, handing the doctor a cigar, his enormous, naked barrel chest puffed up with uncle pride. He tossed one to Zach, who caught it instantly.
“Excuses,” Asher muttered, but to Zach’s surprise, he dropped the subject. The doctor handed his cigar off to Zach and went to attend to Lilah and the babies, muttering about the umbilical cords.
“Saved!” Derry said, giving Zach a sly smile around the unlit cigar in his mouth. “You are no longer the resident baby whisperer.”
Zach made a sound that was half bark, half huff, and all too emotional. “Glad to be demoted.” Scanning the room, he verified that Sophia was gone. She’d just been there moments ago. Where on earth was she?
“Thank you, Zach,” Sophia’s twin said with a somber note that jerked Zach out of his search. “Jessica says that you saved the second twin’s life.”
“It was a group effort,” Zach said, overwhelmed by the attention.
Derry’s eyes narrowed. “That may be true, but you clearly possess powers we don’t quite understand.”
Zach looked pointedly at Jess, who was with the doctor, answering questions. “I get the sense that’s not a rarity around here. I may be a human who turned into a shifter through a lab accident, but there are some humans here with skills that defy my understanding of biology.”
Derry’s eyes clouded with a conflicted look. “You would have to ask Gavin about that.”
“He’s a tad busy,” Zach said dryly, making Derry burst into booming, joyful laughter.
“Indeed. His hands are more than full.” Derry put his arm around Zach’s shoulders and offered his hand, eyes full of emotion. Zach worked hard to ignore the man’s distinct lack of clothes. “Thank you again, Zach.”
“I didn’t do anything more than anyone else would.”
Derry raised a very dubious eyebrow.
Sam approached them, her eyes tired, face full of deep consideration. “Lilah and the babies seem to be fine. The serum worked.” Her mouth began to quaver, but she bit her lower lip, squared her shoulders, and pulled herself together. Zach admired her composure but also sensed the deep fear she’d felt all along.
