Page 46 of Reformed Wolf

I could’ve run to his side if Shan had let me, but as it was, he held me back. “Go easy. I’m gonna need my Beta tomorrow, so try not to hurt yourself any worse than you already have.”

Any sarcastic retort would have to wait, because I caught sight of my mate propped up in bed. His skin was far too pale, his golden eyes dull, but he was smiling gently. “Tristan.” He reached for me, and I staggered over and collapsed against him, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. I only drew back to check on the baby, shoving back the sheet to kiss his stomach. “You saved us…” he whispered.

I sat up and stroked his cheek. “No, Dylan. You’re the one who saved us.”

He frowned and shook his head. “How? I’ve been in bed. I slept through the whole thing. I didn’t even know something had happened until Jude came barging in like a herd of elephants, regaling us with stories of his heroism.”

“Don’t you remember the…? Never mind. We’ll talk about it later.” It was the middle of the night, after all. Hardly the time to discuss visions.

Brody made a sound behind me, like a gasping grunt. I turned to look at him, and he gave a little chagrined wave. “Um… I really respect everything you guys are going through right now, and I don’t want to make this about me or anything, but… uh, I’m in labor. And I think I kinda need my bed back.”

As if this day couldn’t get any more exciting.

Chapter 20

Dylan

We were driving into the city, led by a state trooper vehicle, two handcuffed hyena shifters in the back seat. Tristan wasn’t comfortable with having me in the same vehicle with them, so he asked a sort-of friend of the pack’s to help with transport. Metro was a coyote shifter, and while Shan seemed to have a reluctant truce with him, I really liked him. He was mated to a wolf from Dusk Fall, but he’d originally been from Fairhome, so he had a good understanding of both city and small-town pack life.

It was just the three of us following in the truck; Tristan was driving, me in the passenger seat, and Jude— “Are we there yet?” he asked from the back, sticking his head up between the seats. It was not the first time he’d made the joke.

Tristan rolled his eyes. “No, loser. You’re worse than Malachi. Do I need to break out the snacks and play I Spy?”

“Ooh, did you say snacks?” I asked, perking up.

Tristan smirked and reached into the door’s pocket, passing me a pack of red licorice. “Sweets for my sweet,” he said, offering me an over-the-top wink.

“So cheesy,” I groaned, accepting the bag. “You never would’ve won me over with lines like that.”

“Now who’s the loser?” Jude sassed, smacking the side of Tristan’s head before he retreated into the back, out of reach for retaliation.

“Behave, both of you,” I scolded, pointing a finger back and forth between them. “We’re carrying precious cargo here.” I patted my belly lovingly, and they both looked appropriately chagrined.

I was so ready for this baby to get out. I thought I’d be scared to give birth after helping Brody through labor, but it was strangely… therapeutic. It was almost a comfort to stare all the pain and hard work in the face and say, “Ha! Is that all you got?” It probably hurt way worse than Brody made it look, but I figured it would be worth it to get a baby out of it. Because gods, Wynn was just the cutest little squishy baby ever! He came into this world red-faced and wailing like a banshee, but once he’d calmed down, my heart had just melted. Malachi had already decided his baby brother belonged to him.

I want one, my panther said for the thousandth time.

And you’ll have one, very, very soon, okay? My beast was just as eager as I was, and he wasn’t even the one who had to carry them. His back didn’t hurt, though he had been cooped up for almost two months now.

We all chatted about nothing much for the rest of the drive, and any time there was a lull in the conversation, I would say, “I spy something blue,” just to keep them talking. Tristan would roll his eyes. “Is it the sky?” And I would smile coyly and say, “Nooo…” even though it always was.

Maybe I was being silly, but I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. I was desperate to keep myself distracted. I’d been doing anything I could to keep from thinking about the vision I had the night of the attack. It had felt like a dream, and after the fact, I had no idea I’d been talking to Tristan at all. All I knew was I woke up in a bed that smelled all wrong and my mate was gone to fight off assailants, and no one could tell me when—of even if—he would come home.

I hadn’t had a chance to ask Vesta why the vision had come to me or if there would be more. Why now? Why me? I’d never had any special abilities before.

But as the city loomed large ahead, we settled into a contemplative silence of a different nature. There was no way to ignore what was about to happen, and the weight of it pressed down on us all…

As we approached my father’s house, the gate opened ahead of us, allowing us entry. Shan had radioed ahead to let him know to expect us. My stomach squirmed and twisted—or maybe it was just the baby rolling over, it was hard to tell. Either way, there was a good chance I might barf. A clammy sweat began to collect on my forehead, and I swallowed repeatedly, ready to lean out the window if I had to.

I grimaced, staring at the mansion looming ahead through the windshield as we followed Metro’s car up to the front entrance. After having lived in the camp for the past five months, the comparison was… startling. “Was it always this garish?” I asked.

“Yes,” both Tristan and Jude answered at the same time, followed by a battle over who said “Jinx” first. It was the exact silliness I needed to lighten the mood, and my stomach seemed to settle.

Metro was already out of the car, but he left his hat off. This wasn’t official state business, after all. He waited for us to join him alongside his vehicle, which took a minute because I needed Tristan’s help getting down. Then we headed up the steps to the front door. It opened before we got there, my father appearing in the doorway, looking grim.

“Let’s deal with this out here, shall we? I don’t want them in my home.” His eyes scanned me head to toe, no doubt looking for any sign of injury. “You’re not hurt? The baby—”

“Is fine,” I said, holding a hand up to stall his anxious rant. “Everyone is alive and well—ouch! Unless you count this little one kicking the hell out of my ribs.” I chuckled lightly, but in fact, the kick had actually been quite sharp. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this kid already had claws in there.

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