"Again," I confirm, rolling my hips against him. "Until our children decide they're finished."
He groans at the movement, hands tightening on my waist. "You're going to kill me."
"Then what a way to go," I say, and he laughs despite everything.
The heat builds between us again, but this time it's slower. More intimate. Less about desperate need and more about the connection that binds us together.
He moves inside me with careful precision, hitting every spot that makes me gasp and writhe beneath him. When his knots finally deflate enough to move, he slides out only to position me on my hands and knees.
"Want to see you like this," he says, hands stroking over my back. "My omega presenting for her alpha."
The position makes me feel exposed, vulnerable, completely at his mercy. It should shame me. Instead, it sends another spike of arousal through my system.
He enters me again from behind, the new angle hitting different spots inside me. I drop to my forearms, presenting myself more fully, and he rewards me with a low growl of approval.
"Perfect," he says, pace increasing. "Absolutely perfect."
CHAPTER 29
ELISE
DAY 340
(Nine monthspregnant)
The first contraction hits me while I'm walking through the ice gardens, and I know immediately that this is different from the false alarms I've had over the past week.
This is real.
"Aratus," I gasp, one hand flying to my enormous belly. The twins have been active all morning, their magic responding to mine in ways that make frost bloom across my skin.
He's at my side instantly, having never strayed far during these final days. "Is it time?"
"Yes," I breathe, and another contraction ripples through me. Not painful yet, but insistent. A pressure that announces the inevitable. "They're coming."
His face goes carefully blank—that expression he wears when he's fighting not to show emotion. But through the bond, I feel everything. Terror and excitement and fierce protectiveness all tangled together.
"Inside," he says, sweeping me into his arms before I can protest. "Now."
"I can walk—" Another contraction cuts off my words.
"Not arguing about this," he growls, already moving toward our chambers with preternatural speed.
The midwives are summoned. The birthing chamber is prepared. Everything happens with efficient precision that would be comforting if I wasn't increasingly occupied by the waves of pressure building in my body.
"How long?" I ask the head midwife when she arrives, her silvery eyes assessing me with centuries of experience.
"Hard to say with twins, Your Majesty. Could be hours. Could be longer." She examines me with cool efficiency, her Fae healing magic flowing through me in diagnostic waves. "The contractions are still fairly far apart. You're in early labor."
"How much longer?" Aratus demands, his control fraying at the edges.
"Your Majesty, first births take time. Even with our healing magic accelerating the process, we're looking at potentially eight to twelve hours?—"
"Twelve hours?" His voice drops to dangerous levels.
"Alpha," I say firmly, catching his hand. "She's trying to help. Don't freeze the midwife."
He visibly reins himself in, but I can feel his agitation through the bond. The ancient Fae lord who's lived six centuries is terrified by the prospect of me in labor.
