He was working off his anger, she realized, because he hadn’t used it on Rowan.
“Jonah.” The word was barely a whisper. It was all she could manage.
But it had been loud enough. He stopped, his body obviously tensed, and glanced back over his shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said.
He lowered his arms, turned to face her. “For what?”
Margot gathered her courage. “For helping me. And for whatever you said to him. You didn’t have to do that, any of it, especially after I . . . Anyway, thank you.”
He didn’t speak, but nodded once, his eyes trained on hers.
He wouldn’t move, she knew. She’d set a boundary, and he respected it, and he wouldn’t be the one to breach that trust.
But she didn’t want to hold back any longer. So she’d make the move herself. She strode toward him, and because that wasn’t fast enough, she ran the last few feet.
Jonah’s eyes darkened, went hot and possessive as she launched herself toward him. And he met her with open arms, then wrapped his arms around her and held her body, warm and lush, against his.
Their bodies fit perfectly together. And when she lifted her mouth to his, when he met her kiss with passion and desire, they realized the rest of them fit, too.
They were holding hands when they walked back to the door, Margot marveling at the hope that was blossoming in her belly. Hope and excitement and a nice, healthy dose of lust that she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Rowan and the Ombuddies were gone, and the Cadogan vampires were debriefing about the operation.
Merit saw them first and smiled, and when Ethan did the same, she assumed Merit had given him a silent message. It was a sneaky way to gossip. And a good one.
“You’re both all right?” Ethan asked, and there were warmth and amusement in his eyes.
Jonah looked at Margot, waited for her to answer. “We’re fine,” she said, and squeezed his hand. “More than fine.”
“We’re all glad to hear it,” Ethan said, and glanced back at his wife.
Her eyes, Margot saw, had gone wide, and her lips were pursed in what looked like pain.
“Crap,” Merit said. She put a hand to her belly, eyebrows furrowed, her face a mask of careful concentration. “It’s time.”
“For what?” Ethan asked.
“For the birth of your child.”
Joy and fear shifted across his face like shadows and sunlight. “Now?”
“Now—owwwwww,” she said, bending as she reached out to grab Ethan’s arm, digging white-knuckled fingers into his skin. “I know we said no drugs, but maybe just a few drugs. Oww, son of a filthy mongrel.”
She looked up, managed a half smile at Margot. “Sorry to break up the . . . whatsit.”
Margot was too excited for regret. She grinned at Merit, then smiled at Jonah. “We’ve got plenty of time for the whatsit. Let’s go meet the baby.”
Epilogue
“Drugs,” I said, when we were in the hospital suite we’d reserved, and I’d grabbed two fistfuls of Delia’s scrubs. “Please some drugs.”
“No drugs,” Delia said, voice as bland as it might have been if I’d asked about the weather.
A contraction rolled again, and it felt like my body would simply collapse in on itself like a neutron star.
“Drugs or I will stake you,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut against the onslaught.
“No, you won’t,” Delia said. “I’ll be back in an hour. But you can page me if you need me in the meantime.”
I waited until she was gone, then grabbed the mug from the table and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a dull thud, then bounced to the floor, totally harmlessly.
“Goddamn plastic,” I huffed through gritted teeth. “It’s a conspiracy.”
“It’s not a conspiracy,” Ethan said, pressing a cold cloth to my forehead. “Just unsatisfying.”
The door burst open and Mallory walked in. “Merit! Are you all right? We came as soon as we heard you were here. And finished lunch, because we figured it would be a while.”
I growled at her, showing fang.
She glanced at Ethan. “So, as expected?”
“Labor appears to make her grouchy,” he said mildly.
“I hate everyone.”
“No, you don’t,” she said, and edged onto the side of the bed, offered her hand.
I took it, squeezed hard. “Drugs,” I said. “When it’s your turn in here, get the damn drugs.”
A dozen hours passed, and the parade of friends and family and supernaturals continued.
Gabriel Keene, head of the North American Central Pack of shape-shifters, came in with his wife, Tanya, and their son, Connor.
In his human form, Gabe was tall and broad-shouldered, with tawny, sun-kissed hair and eyes of gleaming amber. He was ruggedly handsome and quite a foil for Tanya’s delicacy. She carried Connor, who was nearly three and clutched a plastic giraffe tightly in his tiny fist. He was a beautiful little boy, with dark curls that must have come from Tanya’s side of the family and eyes as blue as the summer sky.
“How are you, Kitten?” Gabriel asked.
“In pain,” I said. “Really, really severe pain. Do you want to fight me? That might be less painful. I have a knife.” I gestured to the plastic utensil on the tray a nurse had brought in a few hours ago.
“No, Kitten,” he said with a smile. “I don’t want to fight, interesting as that offer is. We brought you a present. Well, we brought Baby Kitten a present.”
As my fingers were wrapped tightly around the bed’s railing, he pulled the item out of the pink gift bag.
It was a tiny plastic katana, just the right size for a little girl to play with.
“It’s really sweet,” I said, tears suddenly streaming down my face for no apparent reason. Other than hormones, pain, and exhaustion. “Thank you.”
“Until she’s ready for the real thing,” Gabe said, then reached over and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“My ‘tana?”
We looked back at Connor, whose gaze had narrowed at the sword.
“He means ‘katana,’” Gabriel said, smiling at his son’s focused stare.
“You might want to get him one of those, too,” I said, and Gabriel just shrugged.
“He can borrow hers.”
Thirty-eight hours. Nearly two full days of labor including many daylight hours without Ethan while he slept in a neighboring and sunlight-free room. My mind ached for sleep, but my body wouldn’t allow it. I passed those hours in a daze, neither entirely awake nor asleep, but glad when the sun fell again.
Finally, Delia came in. “All right, Sentinel,” she said, after taking a look. “It’s time to push. Are you ready to meet your daughter?”
I was struck by a wave of terror so great I might have been facing down a mortal enemy. I looked up at Ethan, ready to launch into a manic dialogue. But he put a hand on my face.
You can do this, Merit. I’ll be here with you, and we’ll get through it together. Then he squeezed my hand. Now buck up, and get it done.
“Together” my ass, I thought. But we’d talk about that later. For now, I had one final job.
I’d like to say that I handled the rest of it with grace and a minimum of swearing. But that would be a lie. I curse like a sailor in the best of times, and childbirth, even if it has a happy ending, was not the best of times. It was painful, sweaty, messy, terrifying times.
But oh, that happy ending.
She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Tiny and delicate as a doll, with downy, golden hair and green eyes just like her father’s. She had my mouth, but she was obviously Ethan’s daughter.
She’d been swaddled and placed in my arms, and he sat beside me with an arm around my shoulders, both of us staring at the tiny vampire who blinked up at us.
“Look what we did, Sentinel.”
I gave him a hard look.
“Admittedly, your part was harder than mine.”
I made a quiet sound of agreement. I’d always found the idea that “we” were pregnant really weird. He didn’t have to waddle or pee all the time or get punched from the inside. She was our child—but it had been my pregnancy.
Anyway, that hardly mattered now.