Page 61 of Bred By the Wolfman

“I’m bringing in Dee right now,” he says into the phone. He’s counting on his wrist, when I feel another twinge in my abdomen, and he restarts the count. “Yes, they’re fairly close together.”

A decision is made, and Russ helps me up off the couch. I limp along behind him out to the car, and he drives like a wolf out of hell toward his hospital, giving me instructions on how to breathe as we get closer. I try to tell him that I’m still doing all right, but he’s on a mission now.

They’re waiting for me when we arrive, and I’m led to a private room. This is a hospital in a monster area, so most of the doctors, nurses and patients are various trolls, gargoyles, and even a fairy woman who keeps her wings tucked away in her scrubs.

Russ stays with me, coaching me as my contractions get closer and closer together. A nurse comes in, and they take some measurements together, talking quietly about how my labor is progressing. It’s strange but comforting to see Russ become his doctor-self. He’s knowledgeable and firm, and frequently stops to explain each step of the process to me.

“This is going to be difficult,” he says in a serious tone. “She’s early. I’m not sure what’s going on.”

I’m surprised that I don’t detect fear in his voice, simply unyielding determination. I nod, trusting in him to take care of her.

Discomfort soon turns to pain, and I’m suddenly quite angry with my past self for ever signing up for DreamTogether. Surely past me knew that future me would have to suffer through this.

Bitch.

As the contractions get more intense, Russ disappears, and I grow worried when he doesn’t come back right away. I can’t do this without him. I need him, right here, with me. This is our baby, the one that we made together, that he told me we would raise together.

He promised me.

My breathing is coming faster and I’m about to call out for him, when a wolfman walks in dressed in scrubs, his face covered in a mask. I gasp with relief.

“Russ!” He pulls down his mask to kiss me on the forehead.

“They told me I shouldn’t do this myself, but I don’t trust anyone else with you,” he says, nuzzling my hair. Then he replaces his mask, brushes his hand once more over mine, and takes up his place at the bottom of the bed.

My labor is long and arduous, and Russ has frequent exchanges with other doctors and nurses that I can’t hear. His face grows more worried as the pain drags on, but I’m afraid to know what might be wrong, even as I’m dying to make sure my baby is all right.

Still, I trust Russ to handle it, to make sure she gets here safely.

“Okay, my dear,” he says to me, gently rubbing my thigh while another nurse stands nearby, poised to act. “She’s ready to come out. She might be a little tangled, so I need you to push hard and fast, okay?”

“That’s what I said,” I joke, and then cry out as another bolt of agony lances through me.

But I do it. I do what he tells me, and I scream and sob and he praises me every step of the way. Except... there’s no sound, not when she should be crying.

“Cut it off now,” I hear Russ snap, and someone works between my legs.

There’s a gasp, and then more muttering, that tapers into a long, drawn-out silence.

My heart speeds up. She has to be all right. She’s mine. She’s my girl, my daughter, and I need to meet her. I need to hold her, and learn who she is, and watch her become the best version of herself.

I’m on the verge of tears when suddenly, a small wail fills the air.

She’s here.

twenty-four

RUSS

After snipping off the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck, our cub opens her tiny mouth and breathes. I nearly collapse in my relief.

She’s arrived. Just holding her small, furry body in my big hands, a joy I could never have predicted sweeps through me, almost taking me off my feet. I glance up at Dee, who’s panting and sweaty, and marvel that we could have made such a wondrous thing together.

I bring our newborn to my mate’s side and gently place the cub in her arms, to give them skin-on-skin contact. Then the nurse returns, and walks Dee through the process of latching.

Finally, we’re allowed to rest.

I take off my mask and hair net, and toss it all aside so I can scoot closer to them. Our cub’s mouth is wrapped around her mother’s nipple, and her wet fur moves with every suck. Her tiny hands are balled up at her chest, her tail curled between her legs.

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