Page 250 of Labor of Love

Ryland dropped a kiss on Lothian’s forehead.

He smiled up at the alpha. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now, let’s have this baby.”

The midwife arrived an hour later. The pains were close together by then, gripping Lothian like an invisible fist. He panted, clasping one of Ryland’s hands and one of Dante’s. Neither of them complained as he crushed their fingers in his.

“Breathe,” the midwife said. She examined Lothian’s hole gently, testing his readiness.

Lothian exhaled a long breath.

“You’re just about ready to push!” She beamed at them, then nodded at Ryland. “You can give him the bite whenever he’s ready. This next part will hurt like fire without it.”

Ryland slid behind Lothian on the bed, letting him lean back against him. He wrapped his arms around the omega, holding on to his belly. He kissed his neck. “Are you ready?”

Ryland had fed from Lothian many times since they’d bonded, but Lothian never got tired of it. The sharp prick of his teeth. The rush of pleasure that flowed through his veins, heightening every sensation. He wondered if it would feel different now. He need only wait a moment to find out.

Lothian nodded. “I’m ready.”

Ryland’s mouth brushed across Lothian’s vein, and then his fangs sank into Lothian’s flesh. He drew a mouthful of blood, then swallowed. Lothian gasped as warmth and pleasure flowed through him. His whole body relaxed.

The midwife hummed. “Good, good. Now, push.”

Lothian pushed.

And pushed.

And pushed.

For what felt like hours.

Finally, something in his body shifted, and he felt a strange sort of stretching, and then so much pressure. He cried out, though it wasn’t in pain. He was still riding the high of Ryland’s bite.

“Here he comes!” The midwife reached between Lothian’s spread thighs and eased the baby from his body. Lothian sagged, sweat dripping down his face.

Ryland squeezed him gently.

Dante, who had been remarkably quiet throughout the birth, suddenly sniffled. “He’s perfect.”

Ryland brushed his mouth against Lothian’s ear. “We have a son.”

Lothian peered at his son as the midwife bathed him. Then, he looked at Dante, who was wiping his nose, and Ryland, who was beaming at him, and shook his head.

“We have afamily.”

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Born in the artists’ community of Woodstock, NY, Morgan Elektra discovered her passion for writing at a young age, penning stories of witches, vampires, and monsters at the dining room table. After years working day jobs and moonlighting as a reviewer for popular genre website Dread Central, Morgan left the comfort of an office to follow her dreams of writing fiction. She spent the early twenty-teens as a freelance ghostwriter of erotica, but has now put aside the masks to write under her own name. Morgan graduated from Southern New Hampshire University with an MFA in Creative Writing. She writes dark fiction, paranormal romance, and erotica for those who, like her, are in love with the dark.

When not writing she can be found reading, advocating for her local LGBTQ+ community, and attempting yoga.

She currently lives near Savannah, GA with her husband, their cat Harlequin, and—if the rumors are to be believed (and she sincerely hopes they are)—an awful lot of ghosts.

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