by Lexi C. Foss
“Cyrus!” Claire cried out as she grabbed onto me, her tone panicked but her grip strong.
My vision cleared enough for me to see the source of her distress. She held on to her stomach, grinding her teeth as a wave of pain swept through the mate-bonds. Labor, I realized. She’s in labor.
Claire immediately tried to shut us out in an attempt to save us from the agony, but I pulled her into my arms.
“Don’t do that,” I said, brushing away her hair. “Give us your pain, little queen. We can handle it.”
We’re here, I added into her mind. You’re not alone. We’re all right here.
“I CAN’T DO THIS,” I bit out as my mates hurried me into the hospital.
My water hadn’t broken at all like they showed in the movies. It’d been more of a trickle. I’d honestly thought I’d lost control of my bladder, which had been embarrassing. But nope. It turned out that was the start of labor.
“You can,” Cyrus assured me with a kiss as he guided me into a wheelchair. My mate still looked pale from misting in from wherever he’d been. I wanted to smack him and Exos for leaving, even if it was unexpected that I would go into labor early. What could have been so important to take that chance?
And on Christmas Eve?
The latest contraction eased off, and I released the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Without the wave of pain overtaking my brain, I was able to think clearly.
Oh, right.
“Was today the vote?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
Cyrus and Exos shared a grin. “Not quite, little queen. But close.”
“Well, tell me,” I said, eager to know what had happened. They’d been out of the realm for a reason.
“Shouldn’t we concentrate on the faeling?” Vox asked.
I narrowed my gaze at him. “I’m having a difficult time concentrating on anything else.”
He flinched. “Sorry.”
Titus pushed me into the elevator and stared at the buttons. “Which fucking floor was it again?”
“Third,” Vox said, always efficient, as he shoved an arm through and stabbed the number. “That’s triage, where they’ll evaluate her.”
“She’s clearly in labor,” Exos said, irritated. “What kind of evaluation do they need to do?”
“Exos,” I said. “Tell me what happened.”
“Pregnant and giving demands,” Cyrus mused, leaning down to brush his lips over mine. “We were in the underworld, little queen. Lucifer has agreed to support your initiative, and I have his signed vote in my pocket.”
My eyes widened. “You got the Hell Fae to—” I cut off on a gasp as pain crashed through me again, knocking the air from my lungs and causing all my muscles to tighten in agony.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to cut the pain off from seeping into my mate-bonds.
“I told you not to do that,” Cyrus chastised as he took my hand. “If you can handle it, then we can, too.”
When I opened my eyes again, all my mates had their hands on me, demanding that I share my burden.
This was something I knew no human birth could compare to. How many women could share their pain with those who genuinely wanted to help?
I hated to do it, but I knew none of them would forgive me if I tried to shoulder the responsibility all by myself.
We were a mate-circle for a reason.
Forever and always.
And this was exactly why our links existed—to help and support each other.
I relaxed my constraints, allowing the mate-bond to flow through me as the pain dispersed through the circle.
All of my mates buckled, Sol in particular making the elevator jolt as he slammed into the side. “Holy fae,” he bit out. “That’s like getting hit by a mountain.”
Vox groaned and rubbed his neck. “Fuck, Claire. You’ve been holding that in all by yourself? I’m with Cyrus. Don’t take that on alone.”
I grinned weakly, relieved as the pain lessened, much more manageable now that it was shared across the bonds.
The elevator dinged, and Titus pushed me out into the office. I pulled some of my discomfort back in to let my mates focus on signing me in. Then, the moment I passed triage and was cleared for the delivery room, I shared the aches and pains with my mates again.
Labor took much longer than I would have expected. I went through cycles of agony, in and out for hours. Every time the doctor came in, I wasn’t dilated enough for delivery.
When we were left alone again for the umpteenth time, I turned to Cyrus. His silver-blue eyes watched me with concern. “Are fae supposed to dilate before giving birth?” I asked, wishing I’d spent more time talking with the Healers.
His lips curled on one side. “Yes. Be patient, Claire. Your body is still half-human. You’ve gone through an incredibly accelerated pregnancy for your genetic makeup. You can do this, but don’t rush it.”
“Patient?” I repeated. “You want me to be patient?” That was Exos’s chosen phrase. Not Cyrus’s. And I’d been pretty damn patient all night. “Why isn’t my body cooperating?”
“Because you’re not ready, Claire,” Cyrus replied, his tone holding a touch of his trademark chastisement.
“But I was more than ready on Halloween when you impregnated me,” I snapped.
He sighed. “Claire. I know it hurts, but you’re stronger than this.”
My eyebrows winged upward. “Stronger? Are you…” I trailed off on a hiss as another contraction hit me. This one I blasted through the mate-bond, causing Cyrus to double over on an exhale. “Patient… enough… for you?” I asked through my teeth as another contraction hit me almost immediately.
Fuck! The shout came from all my mates. Or maybe one of them. I really couldn’t tell because chaos had erupted around us as the doctors returned.
Sol and Vox were arguing about something.
Exos was speaking urgently to Cyrus.
And Titus was looking at me as though I were dying.
Am I dying? I asked him, panicking.
You’re okay, sweetheart. I just hate seeing you like this.
“Claire,” Cyrus was saying, pulling my attention back to him. “It’s time to start pushing.”
“What?”
“Push, little queen,” he urged.
I’d completely missed where the doctors said it was time, but I read the urgency in their expressions.
“It’s time?” I squeaked, then another pain slammed into my abdomen, and I about shot out of the bed. “Cyrus!” He gave me his hand, and I clamped down, my insides rioting as my instincts took over.
Push.
Okay.
Push.
Yep.
I can do this.
But no matter how many times I pushed, it wasn’t over, and all it did was radiate aches up through my hips and spine. It felt like I was being ripped in half, and not in a good way. “It’s not working!” I cried out, anger and sadness and failure filling me as a hum sounded in my ears. “Why isn’t it working?”
Cyrus and Exos sang into my thoughts.
Titus joined them.
Then Vox and Sol were there, too.
I barely heard the doctor talking over them, his voice so far away beneath the cloud of soothing evoked by my mates.
“I see the head,” the doctor informed me. “One big push now on the next contraction. You can do it!”
I waited for the pressure to build, and then the pain hit again. That was my cue.
I screamed as a new burn ran through me, one of magic rather than physical torment. All of the elements that had been blocked unleashed at the same time, searing me with their raw power as if I’d touched the sources themselves.
Fire blazed across my skin.
Water crashed into the walls.
Air swirled in a violent spiral, kicking up the chairs and medical supplies.
The floor split, sprouting life all around us.
Pink butterflies burst into existence, glittering as they fluttered through
the writhing elements unleashed in the delivery room.
This wasn’t me, but my child.
I didn’t have time to process what this all meant. All I knew was that my son needed me right now to bring him into the world, and no matter if I died trying, I would succeed.
All of my mates placed their hands on me, calming the inferno of elements as one final push gave me the sweetest relief. I held my breath and stared up at the ceiling as the swirling of colors mixed together, releasing bursts of sparkles like stars.
Then a cry sounded.
My son…
He was finally here.
“CONGRATULATIONS,” a dark voice whispered from the shadows of Claire’s room. “The perceptions of the medical staff have all been altered.”
I didn’t know Shade well, but he came highly recommended by Aflora and Zeph. They told me if anyone could help us clean up this mess, it was the secretive Midnight Fae with a penchant for playing with time and memories. “Did Kyros help you?” I asked him, very aware of his close friendship with the Paradox Fae.
“If he did, I wouldn’t tell you,” he replied, his lips curling as he stepped out from the shadows. “But everything is as it should be.”
I nodded. We’d already handled the elemental mess left behind from Claire’s childbirth. Now she rested peacefully in the bed with her son cradled against her chest. Cyrus sat beside her, his fingers shifting through her hair as he closely watched Shade. Titus, Vox, and Sol all wore similarly guarded expressions.
Shade wasn’t just a Midnight Fae. I could sense the otherworldly energy pouring off him like thick bands of wispy smoke, suffocating all those in his presence.
“Do you require anything else?” he asked, arching a dark brow, his icy gaze flashing.
“We just needed the memories altered,” I replied.
He nodded and turned, as though to walk into the wall.
“Let us know what you want in return,” I added, uncertain of what else to say to him. We barely knew each other, and he never attended the meetings with Aflora.
Shade glanced back over his shoulder. “I don’t require anything,” he said. “My mate requested a favor. And I never say no to my mate.” His icy irises flashed again, an array of secrets brewing in their depths. “I have a feeling you understand.”
“I do,” I admitted.
“Good.” He smiled. “Congratulations again.”
With that, he vanished into the shadows. Literally.
I shivered, his inky magic leaving an imprint in the air that was severely at odds with my spirit essence. I had no idea how or why he’d mated Aflora, but it was clear that he worshipped the ground she walked on, which was good enough for me.
Sol, however, didn’t seem to agree, his scowl firmly in place. “Willow stump,” he muttered.
I arched a brow. “What?”
“Nothing,” he grumbled.
“Mmm?” Claire mumbled, stirring from her rest and causing the baby to awaken against her chest. Rather than cry, he lifted big blue eyes up at his mother before staring straight at Cyrus.
My lips twitched. “Yeah, he’s going to be bold.”
“Of course he is,” Cyrus cooed, smiling down at the little bundle. “He’s a future king.”
“King?” Claire repeated on a yawn, her long lashes fluttering open. “Oh. Yes. King. Hi there, little king. Oh, what a handsome little one you are.” She positively beamed, her sole focus on the tiny faeling.
He blinked his eyes back to her, his love and adoration evident in the way he worshipped her with that intelligent gaze.
She cocked her head. “It’s like he understands me.”
“He does,” Cyrus replied. “Faelings are a little different from human infants.”
She slowly drew her gaze to Cyrus. “A little different, like ‘nine-week pregnancies instead of nine months’ different?”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
Cyrus, however, didn’t bother to hide his grin. “Yeah, sort of like that.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I want a better explanation than that.”
“How about we name him first?” he offered. “Then we can talk about the differences.”
I crept forward, very interested in this conversation now. Not that I wasn’t amused before, but this took precedence.
“Name?” she repeated, swallowing. “Oh, I… In all our preparation… I…”
“Shh,” he hushed. “I haven’t thought of one yet either. I wanted to meet him first before I decided.”
“Do you have one in mind now?” she asked.
“Sort of.” He studied the faeling, his gaze intense. “He’s our Christmas baby, born in the Human Realm beneath a wave of all five elements. So he needs a strong name, one that represents his birth and his elemental status. What do you think about Storm?”
“That’s not very Christmassy,” she said slowly. “But he did create quite the catastrophe on his way out.”
“He came in like a rough storm, yes,” my brother agreed, his lips twitching. “I also thought of Frost because he created some ice on the ceiling that not even Titus could melt.”
“He’s going to be a handful,” the Fire Fae said, his voice full of adoration. “I like Storm. It suits him.”
“I like it, too,” I admitted. “But I want Claire to love it.”
She stared down at the baby. “What about Blizzard?” Her lips twisted. “No. That’s too much. Hmm.” Her expression turned pensive. “Jack is too plain. Winter isn’t right, and Christmas doesn’t fit.”
“What about Ciro?” I suggested. “It’s a variant of Cyrus, but it means ‘of the sun.’ ”
Claire blinked at me, then down at the baby once more. “Ciro,” she repeated, her expression brightening. “King Ciro.”
“Prince Ciro,” Cyrus corrected. “I’m still King Cyrus.”
She beamed. “Yes, Prince Ciro. Oh, that’s perfect. I love it.” The baby seemed to agree, because he released a little giggle, which caused Claire’s eyes to widen. “They can do that when they’re this young?”
“Faeling,” Cyrus reminded her.
But rather than demand he start listing all the differences for her, she just hummed in agreement and continued repeating, “Prince Ciro,” to the little one in her arms.
Everyone smiled, pleased with the name.
And Cyrus turned his icy blue eyes up to me, a hint of emotion flashing in his depths.
He knew why I suggested that name.
It wasn’t just because of the similarity to his name, but to Cira—our mother.
We rarely spoke about her, as she passed when we were much younger, but she forever lived in our hearts. Just like our mate. And now, baby Ciro.
“Merry Christmas, Prince Ciro,” our mate murmured, her gaze shining with tears as she looked up at all of us. “Merry Christmas, guys.”
“Merry Christmas, Claire,” we all echoed, dropping in to kiss her on the cheek and mouth.
“And happy birthday, Ciro,” I added, giving the little one a nuzzle to his nose. “Now be a good boy and let your mom get some sleep. She’s more than earned it.”
“I THINK we should go with the multicolor Christmas tree,” Vox said, grinning at a sweaty Sol, who had just spent the last several minutes growing a selection of trees in our living room.
He’d mimicked the standard evergreen tree, then created one with pure white ferns similar to what was in our backyard, and finally a third one—his latest invention—a tree displaying multiple color pigments twisting along the branches. It really was impressive.
“The baby definitely likes multicolor best, right, Claire?” Vox glanced back at me, his silver-rimmed irises twinkling.
Of course, we didn’t really need a Christmas tree for New Year’s Eve, but Winter Solstice was in full swing back in the Elemental Fae realm, and I’d been rather occupied on our Christmas Day in the Human Realm.
Not that I was complaining.
Now that we’d returned to our Academy home,
my son suckled at my breast, content as he made little sounds of enjoyment while I observed the tree-selection process.
“I’m afraid Vox is right,” I told Sol, who still had a burp cloth on his shoulder—a permanent fixture he refused to remove. He loved holding the baby, and I wasn’t one to deprive him of it. Whenever my arms grew tired, my rock was there to hold our son for me.
Sol gave me a soft smile. “You’re lucky that you’re pretty,” he said as he leaned down and tapped the raw earth exposed through our ruined floor. He glanced at the babe at my breast. “And you’re lucky that you’re cute, Ciro.” Then he sighed. “More trees coming up.”
The ground trembled while Sol worked, and I chuckled, delighted by the display of reds, greens, yellows, and purples that shot out from the branches, a new trick I was intent on learning.
Cyrus and Exos entered the room, my water mate rubbing his temples. “Who let the Earth Fae loose again? I just had the floor repaired.”
Titus walked in from the kitchen, shaking a bottle as he elbowed Cyrus on his way to me. “You act like you don’t have the funds,” he teased, then handed me the supplemental formula.
I pinched my breast to unlatch my son’s mouth, then I readied the bottle sparking with embers in its milk. I smiled up at Titus, grateful that my mates continued to help me supplement magic for our son.
The baby complained until I offered the bottle’s nipple, and then he latched on, making me chuckle. “Greedy one, aren’t you?”
“Insatiable,” Cyrus agreed as he came to me and kissed the crown of my head. “I can’t imagine where he gets that from.”
My lips curled, amused. “No idea.”
His lips moved to my ear. “Aren’t you going to ask where we’ve been?”
I blinked. “Why would I…?” My mouth dropped open. “Oh, Fae! Was the vote today?”
Cyrus grinned. “It was.”
“Why didn’t you remind me?” I demanded.
“You and Ciro were napping, and we didn’t want to ruin it,” Exos replied. “So we attended to oversee the vote.”
I waited, but neither of them continued. “And?”
Ciro’s nose scrunched at my tone, then he went back to sucking on the bottle a half second later. The little guy knew what his priorities were, just like my mates. Which was why I didn’t get mad that they hadn’t woken me. Because I probably wouldn’t have wanted to leave Ciro anyway. It was too soon.
