My purr could not be restrained, not just at the thought of Brigid and a parcel of children to match us, but that my reserved omega was discussing our bond. She'd danced around the topic for months, shrugging when I asked her questions about her dragon or the future.
"You're right, of course, mate," I said, my voice growling in satisfaction around the wordmate. And in my arms, she melted just enough for me to notice. "Do you like when I call you that?"
Brigid was quiet for a minute and I tried not to sigh in disappointment, assuming I'd pushed her just that tiny measure too far. "I do," she whispered instead.
I could do nothing but purr in answer for an even longer pause, one of my legs rising to cover hers, to tangle her firmly against me, trying to force down the persistent craving I always had for this woman. "I'm sure I would feel the same if I heard you say it," I said, trying to sound reassuring, but there was too much need, a hint of a whine exposing the plea I hid in the statement.
Brigid wiggled in my arms, huffing impatiently, but when I eased my hold she simply turned to face me. One of her hands rose and stroked over my cheek, a long leg sliding between mine, her smooth, bare thigh caressing like silk against my own.
"Thank you for taking such care with me,mate," Brigid said, and the corners of her mouth hooked as I shuddered and restrained a groan of pleasure. She leaned in and kissed my chin, as close as she could reach with her firm, round stomach trapped between us. I loved the feel of her pressing hard against me. I would not trade a moment of these months with her, but I also knew I would relish our union again after the pregnancy and her healing, when I could cover her head to toe, every inch of her body against mine at once.
My hands stroked her sides, and I wondered if she was terribly tired or if I was slow, gentle, patient, I might coax her into another roll in our sheets. And then, before I could start to peck kisses at her lips—brief, light ones that would irritate her into grabbing me and fusing our lips properly—there was a whisper light nudge against my stomach, directly from hers.
We both froze, breaths stolen. Brigid's eyes crinkled at the corners with laughter, my own wide and stupefied.
"Is that—?" I started, then hiccuped as another firmer touch prodded against me.
"Oof." Brigid laughed and leaned back, her hand falling from my cheek to cover the spot on her belly. "Seems someone is awake."
I gaped at her, then down at her hand. She pulled it aside, and it was too dark in our room for me to make anything out, if there was anything to see.
"Here," Brigid said, catching my hand and drawing it to her belly, laying it where hers had been and then nudging slightly upward. "Ah, on the move, I see."
I waited, breathless, for several beats of time until a gentle touch, like a finger muffled through woolen layers and Brigid's silken skin—and not like that at all—pushed against me just enough for me to know, toknowthat our child was there with us.
"That was a wing, I think. They tickle," Brigid said, smiling at me.
I didn't know what my own face was doing. All of my attention, all of my senses, were wholly stolen by the slight back and forth pressure against my palm.
"It's wonderful," Brigid said, sighing, eyes falling shut. Then her brow furrowed a little. "Put a pillow at my back."
I switched hands and hurried to obey, settling my mate inside a nest made of pillows and my embrace as our child waved a wing in greeting to me. Our first hello, our first touch.
There had been a fire today, I thought distantly. My throat was tired, and my hair—in spite of a good washing—still faintly stank of smoke. But it was a perfect night, I decided. One of many more to come.
Chapter Thirty-Four
BRIGID
“Imight not have recommended guests at this time, but at least the visiting alphas got your man out of your hair for a bit," Catherine Eames muttered to me.
I answered with a half smile but didn't glance at the older woman, keeping my careful, steady pace over the stone floor of the large room claimed for the purpose of giving birth. My bottom lip was sore, and I winced even as I continued to gnaw at it ruthlessly. Widow Eames was right—Torion had been hovering for weeks as I approached my lying in. I couldn't so much as blink without him checking on me, seeing if I was experiencing cramps or contractions. He sent daily notes to Widow Eames herself, asking questions as if it were him who was going to be delivering the baby.
He was driving me mad, and if I could've run in my state—a waddle, only—I would've taken off into the hills. And yet part of me wanted to go out the door and call for him. He'd always borne so many burdens for me, and I had no doubt that if he could, he might do the same now.
To both our consternation, what came next would be strictly the responsibility of my body and my will.
A gentle hand soothed over my arm, and I glanced at the woman escorting me in my slow pace, back and forth in the hollow room. "They'll be back soon," Mairwen said, as if reading my mind. She smiled, and for some reason her softness reminded me to breathe.
I'd thought the labor would take place in our bedroom, but Widow Eames had smirked at the suggestion. She'd gone along with me there, with her two daughters and Mairwen in procession. We'd barely taken a foot over the threshold before the scents of other omegas near my nest had me releasing an unfamiliar growl. A guest room was quickly prepared. It felt wrong somehow not to be in my nest, but the idea of anyone but Torion following me there was impossible. Widow Eames said it was a normal instinct, but that women had been managing in doctor's beds and guest rooms for centuries and I would as well.
My reverie was interrupted by a sudden shock of lightning low in my groin that stole my breath and weakened my knees. I made a garbled cry and Mairwen shored me up, holding me above the floor with surprising strength as the other women in the room held still and watched, waiting. The pain was sharp and sizzling, but it passed quickly. I shuddered and leaned into Mairwen for a moment before straightening and letting her guide me back to the bench waiting at the end of the bed.
"You said we could be at this for hours before labor starts," I said, trying not to whine as I looked to Catherine. She'd brought two of her daughters with her, but I'd already forgotten their names. Hopefully, someone would say one again to remind me. Or perhaps none of that would matter in the upcoming efforts.
"Hours. A day, even." Catherine's smile was wry as I groaned, my arms barely fitting around my massive belly as I rocked a little. "It's not likely that long, dear."
"Your belly's dropped, and you've got the shocks. The lad is getting ready to arrive," one of the daughters assured me.
