Page 46 of Mating Mia
“She needs help,” she says, her voice low and melodic. “I can assist—I’ve been in this exact situation before.”
My alphas bristle at the stranger’s approach, their protective instincts flaring. Kane growls, a rumbling sound deep in his chest.
“It’s her,” I whisper, and Kane immediately calms down.
The woman kneels beside me, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that steals what little breath I have left. She places a cool hand on my forehead, brushing away sweat-soaked strands of hair.
“Breathe through the pain,” she instructs, demonstrating a pattern of short, quick breaths followed by a long exhale. “Like this. Don't fight the contraction, ride it.”
I try to follow her example, but another wave of pain crashes over me, and I scream instead as the pressure increases like fire below.
“Push now,” Finn directs from between my legs. “The head is almost out.”
I bear down with all my strength, feeling an impossible stretching, burning sensation as my son’s head emerges into the world.
“Doing amazing,” encourages Kane.
“One more big push,” Finn says, his hands steady as they support the baby’s head. “Shoulders are the hardest part; then it gets easier.”
The woman takes my hand, her grip surprisingly strong.
“You can do this,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re stronger than you know.”
I gather my remaining strength and push with everything I have, a primal scream tearing from my throat as my son’s shoulders rotate and slip free. There’s a sudden release of pressure, accompanied by a slippery sensation of emptiness.
“There he is!” shouts Kane in wonder.
There’s an ominous silence for thirty seconds, and then suddenly the sound of a newborn crying brings me to tears.
“A perfectly healthy boy,” Finn announces as I’m panting and shocked at how fast this happened.
I smile at the baby’s little face, screwed up in outrage at the indignity of birth, his tiny fists flailing against my skin. I wrap my arms around him instinctively, cradling him against my bare chest, feeling his warmth seep into me.
“My baby,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “Welcome to the pack, little one.”
“He’s beautiful,” Kane murmurs, eyes tearing up as he touches our baby’s head with trembling fingers. “Perfect. Just like his mother.”
The woman is still kneeling beside me, her eyes fixed on the baby with an expression of such longing it makes my chest ache. As if sensing my attention, she begins to stand, clearly preparing to leave.
"Wait," I call, reaching out to grasp her wrist. My heart pounds against my ribs, my mouth suddenly dry. It’s now or never. “Listen, this might sound crazy, but I think you’re my mom. Sarah, isn’t it?”
She freezes, her eyes widening as they meet mine.
thirteen
. . .
Mia
My heart pounds in my chest as I clutch my newborn son against my skin.
The woman, my mother, stares at me with eyes identical to my own; her face is a mirror of what I might look like in twenty years. The world narrows to just us. The only sound in the background is the roar of the waterfall.
“Mia?” she whispers, her voice breaking. “My Mia?”
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Tears spill down my cheeks, mingling with the sweat of childbirth still cooling on my skin. My son squirms against my chest, his tiny mouth rooting instinctively against my collarbone.
“Yes, it’s me. I’ve been looking for you.”
