Page 116 of Breeding Clinic

Ignoring the discomfort of my body, I press on. There’s no stopping now. Not when I’ve found the road again. I’m close. I can feel it somehow.

Angling the snowmobile down, I pay attention to the trees. I follow the wide, barren path as it winds and curves. Until I see lights bouncing off trees. Amber and red and moving. The lights scatter across the unblemished snow. There’s a deeper rumble that’s not my snowmobile. A clanging metallic scrape and drag.

When I round a bend, I see them. They’ve gone past the turnoff, the ambulance waiting as the plow scrapes snow off the winding mountain road. The snow machine whips forward through the plowed area that’s already filling with snow again.

I come up to where they can see me and let the engine idle. I stand, holding my lantern in the air, and wave it until they notice me.

“Hey!” I shout, trying to get their attention.

The ambulance driver sees me and backs up his rig. He rolls down his window and pokes his head out. “Are you the alpha that called us?”

“I am.” I gesture behind me. “This is the turnoff. The house is up ahead about a quarter-mile.”

“You drove out in this storm onthat?” the driver asks. “You could have died.”

I know. But I didn’t. And there was no choice, not really. I’m the alpha and it’s my job to protect my pack. It’s the one thing I want more than anything in the world. To sit by the fire and hear Matthew read another of his favorite books out loud. To slow dance with Gabriel, when one of our songs comes on. To hold Kat in my arms again and feel our baby kick my palm. I want it all so badly, my chest aches like my heart’s frozen solid.

I sit back down on the snowmobile and settle the lantern in my lap again. “I’ll lead you guys up there. Call the plow and tell them to come back.”

Then I turn around and lead them up the turnoff to the house.

I’ll have to settle up with God tomorrow. But right now I have to get them to my pack.

Chapter Twenty-Six

KAT

“This is bullshit,”I groan, my teeth gritted. The contraction makes me pant. When I’m able to breathe at all, that is. They come together quicker and last longer each time, my entire abdomen tensing.

“Do you want to lie down?” Matthew asks, hovering.

“No!” I wave them both away and lean on the marble counter. We’ve moved the nest into the kitchen for easier cleanup. Childbirth is messy.

“It says that walking, moving, and dancing can all help the baby move into position,” Gabriel says, looking at his phone.

“What are you reading?” I ask him, frowning. The contraction passes and I suck in a deep gulp of air. I only have three or four minutes of sanity till the next one.

Gabriel shows me his phone. He’s watching a video about childbirth. “Look. She’s dancing between contractions to move the baby into place.”

“You’re gonna deliver our baby with a YouTube video?” I ask him, horrified.

“Iama medical professional,” Gabriel reminds me. “And Iread my old obstetrics textbook from PA school. But this video has tips and tricks.”

Tips and tricks.

Matthew and I share a knowing look.

Where the fuck is Liam?

I glance outside the kitchen window. We’ve turned every single light on in the house so that it’s nice and bright. So that maybe if Liam gets lost, he can find his way back to us. It started snowing lightly again a half-hour ago. The wind blows snowflakes around, obscuring the view. How well can he see? The woods are dark. All he has is the light on the snowmobile.

I hate the idea of him out there. Alone in the dark. Maybe lost in an unfamiliar wood covered in snow. The landmarks we’ve come to know over the past few days have been obscured by snow and shadows. Only a small, weak light to guide him. What if he drives off the side of the mountain?

“He should be here,” I whine. I bend over the counter and press my sweaty face against the cool stone.

“I know,” Matthew says, rubbing my shoulders. “He’ll be back soon.”

Another contraction hits me. I lean against Matthew for support and press a hand to my hard, tight abdomen.

---