Page 50 of Smart@ss Cyborg

C’vest leans down farther and sniffs over her lap.

His wife gapes at the top of his head. “Did you just sniff my—”

“It’s amniotic fluid,” he confirms grimly, and straightens on the bench seat.

Stella is staring at him in a mix of confusion and disbelief. “How do you know…?”

“Urine smells like ammonia. Your vaginal discharge is quite thick and attractive-smelling. Amniotic fluid smells like an infant to my nose.”

Stella is blinking at her mate, her lips pursed. She reaches up a hand and gently covers his mouth. “I’m sorry I asked.”

C’vest sends me a glare before he gently pulls her hand down, leans close to her ear and whispers, “Are you certain I didn’t harm you and the baby when I claimed you in the bathroom?” His voice is thick with worry.

I go cold. I’m suddenly very glad I did not service Becky at the Pythagorean siphons.

She looks up at him, shocked. She reaches for his face. “No! C’vest, I told you earlier, I’ve been having cramps and Braxton Hicks contractions for days. And remember what we read?” Her voice lowers to the barest whisper.“Oxytocin from an orgasm and the prostaglandinsfrom your semen can stimulate labor.It’s possible that earlier helped move things along.” She smiles up at him. “But only because it was time. I’m not hurt and neither is our baby.” Her face grows much more serious as she grips her belly. “He’s going to meet us really soon though. I think my contractions are coming every five minutes.”

C’vest’s face is blank as he stares at his wife. The processes in his skull are moving rapidly though. “The five-one-one rule?” he says mildly.

Stella blows out a long, slow breath—and her posture and open hands with strangely spread fingers indicates she’s experiencing pain.“Yep.”

Watching the pair, Becky’s brain shows concerning activity.

In the areas mostly for stress. Sympathetic stress, due to this news, I’m sure. But she’s been stressed since before our journey into town.

The more I observe her, the more it worries me that she’s not returned to baseline. Also, every few minutes, she’s been markedly stiffening. It takes her a minute to relax again. It’s been happening ever since we got into close proximity with Stella.

“Take your mate to a hospital,” I tell C’vest, wanting this source of upset, this negative emotional influence, gone. “She will need their care.”

Becky is beginning to nod, looking ill. She hugs my hand to herself.

“No!” Stella cries. She looks up pleadingly at her mate. “Call the midwife. Take me home.” She turns to Becky. “Do you want to come to our ranch? I'm having a home birth. If you’re there, I think I’d feel less alone. Plus you can watch me do this in case it helps ease any of your fears or answers any of your questions.”

When Becky’s mouth drops open in astonishment, Stella cajoles, “Our ranch isn’t far. Maybe two miles outside of town.”

Two miles is a lifetime when your mate is in pain. I almost can’t believe that C’vest acquiesces. But then, if Becky asked me anything in the way that Stella looked to him, I would agree to it too.

C’vest and I make quick work of getting our females settled as comfortably as possible for the ride to their ranch. He leaves us briefly to alert the midwife that she’s needed at their home. The woman must promise to follow shortly because he returns swiftly and nods to me before backing their horse and wagon out of its parking spot and leading the way to their ranch.

With Becky atop her pillows in my lap again, her hand gripping my knee, my arms curled around her as I hold the reins, I back out our horse and we travel right behind them.

I don’t bother tying Paco to our wagon. I strongly suspect he’ll follow us.

He does. With our wagon creaking and the occasional clack of fencing supplies, we trundle behind C’vest and Stella’s wagon, Paco keeping pace to the side of us nearest Becky.

Becky jolts, her back stiffly rising away from my front.“No. Way.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to get off your lap,” she replies stridently. “My water just broke.”

My heart stops. Then it explodes, making my blood race.

“What?!”Stella cries, evidently overhearing us over the din of our wagons, or her mate heard Becky’s words and relayed them.

“What are the odds? I can’t be in labor!” Becky cries, looking at the other female in distress. “I never lost my mucus plug!”

“You probably did and just didn’t see it,” Stella returns, raising her voice to be heard, although C’vest slows their horse so that we’re essentially neck and neck and able to converse more easily.

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