Page 47 of Bred By Fafnir

Helgoid gives me a slight nod, touching her antlers to the place where mine would be in a sign of respect and affection that makes a tear escape from my eye. “You have won this battle well enough, save your energy for the war ahead.”

It occurs to me then what this means for them. How terribly pregnancies affect their females. Most dying due to complications of childbirth in the end. They are every bit warriors in their own right. I can see her shudder in anticipation of what comes next. The worried look in my mate’s eyes settles into my chest, and for the first time since we started this, I’m afraid for myself.

Humans handle Bhaurnul births well.

That’s what I tell myself as I choke on my next contraction, my mate swinging me into his arms when my knees buckle. The healer barking orders and the throng of people follow us down the wide hall, my mate snarling at them to give me space as I’m ushered into a dimly lit, warm-toned room. For once, they aren’t glaring and shying away from him but rallying together with us until they're shut outside.

“It’ll be okay, Sha'vria. You are stronger than even I could dream of becoming.”

I huff out a sob, my body ripping in two, but when I look down, I find it intact and wonder how that’s possible as the healer and Elat rush in, and I’m stripped of my clothes. They’re replaced with a soft, lightweight material that’s so pretty in any other situation I’d be remiss to soil it.

I’m about to have a baby.

I’m about to be amom.

Strange how that hasn’t really occurred tome until now.

Fafnir

My mate's screams echo in the small room, her tiny hand gripping me with more strength than I thought possible. She seems to switch wildly from wanting my touch to all but snarling at me like an angry Sihlih when I give it to her. I am unsure which to do, so I wait for her to do one or the other and switch accordingly. My heart is beating harder than I ever thought possible, and for the first time in a long while, I feel my berserker at the front of my mind. He’s unsettled from his rest, but he doesn’t move for our skin. Still, I can barely resist the urge to snarl at the two females in the room when Lenora cries out, whimpering in pain.

“You are doing well. The kit is cresting, another big breath and push hard.”

Emil translates for the healer, one of the few who have not fully embraced universal.

“Ican’t, I’m tired.” Lenora pants before she sucks in a ragged breath and bares down hard doing it anyway. Her back is supported as she squats on the slightly raised bedding on the ground. Her scream shakes me to my core, the blood smeared on the bedding and her pale dress needling in my mind as I breathe deeper.

I have never known a fear like this.

If I lose her—

It will all be for nothing.

I cannot endure it.

She cries out, struggling to get her hand from mine to reach between her legs. She lets loose an exhausted little wail of happiness at whatever she feels there. It’s enough to make my heart slam in my chest as she pushes again. The kit releases from her with a rush of fluid, and a loud, hardy cry. My eyes are wide on the babe as Elat whispers encouraging words to her, a huge smile on the female's face.

Elat faces me then, nodding with teary eyes. “A male.”

My mate’s hands shake as we help her lie back on her mound of pillows. She jerks down the top of her dress, baring her breasts as our kit is lain on her chest.

She sobs, looking at me with the world’s prettiest hazel eyes. “He’s so loud.”

I laugh at that, but it’s a shocked sound as I step closer, wanting like hell to hold ourbabyas she calls them, but feeling oddly undeserving of the sight of them in front of me.

I was lost.

What if I lose control?

What if it hurt them?

I watch, chest heaving, as the females leap into action, cleaning up around us. Lenora worries her bottom lip, fiddling with her breast, trying to navigate it into the kit's wailing mouth.

He is small, bloody, and has the rich honeyed color of his mother’s skin with dark hair to match. The dirty smattering of fur and little soft hooves make my chest ache. They will harden into proper hooves as he grows older. It’s the tiny nubs, his bludgeoning horns, that force me into action. I can no longer help it when I place my hand over the top of his head, liquid filling my eyes.

It is alarming at first, before I realize I’m about to cry.

I huff at that, making the kit jerk a little. I silence myself immediately.

---