#Chapter 291 – Contractions
Ella
Slowly, I breathe through my contractions, taking deep breaths in through my nose and huffing them out of my mouth. The pain is…well, I suppose I can’t say like anything I’ve felt before, can I? Not after all I’ve been through in the past five months. But it’s incredible, the way it radiates through my body, making me grit my teeth against it.
I can feel my body moving, changing along with the contractions. The pain in my pelvis, particularly, is insane, as the bones shift to make room for the baby to pass through. My eyes flash open during one particularly difficult contraction and I hear myself cry out against the pain. God, I would have thought that being a wolf made this easier – wolves seem to have a whole litter of pups without much trouble, by themselves out in the woods.
Passingly, I consider shifting into my wolf form to ease this
–
But then, suddenly, Sinclair bursts into my room, dashing for me.
“What,” he gasps, almost skidding to the side, looking me all over for what is wrong. “What is it, Ella – I heard you scream –”
“No,” I say, gasping a little as the contraction starts to come to its end. “No, it’s just the contraction – god, Dominic, these suck – ”
He shakes his head, still panicked, trying to put it all together as he kneels by the side of the bed and takes my hand. “Cora is coming, she’s close,” he murmurs. “She’ll be allowed in.”
“And Hank?” I ask, looking at my mate. “And Roger?”
“Roger?” Sinclair asks, confused.
“Yes, Dominic! Roger! I want him here as well!”
“Why?” Sinclair’s eyes are wide with wonder now.
“Because!” I smack his shoulder, frowning at him. “He’s the child’s uncle! And his godfather! He should be here! I can’t believe you didn’t call him!”
“Ella,” Sinclair sighs, reaching for the cell phone in his back pocket as I lean back on into the pillows, taking deep breaths. “I can’t believe you’re thinking about propriety while you’re giving birth with insurgents outside
“This is going to be as perfect as I can make it for Rafe!” I snap, determined. “And if I have to give birth in a war zone with no epidural, then Roger can damn well get out of bed and come over here to greet his nephew!”
“Oookay…” Sinclair says softly, giving in without any further questions. I hear him tapping on his phone and then he shifts. I watch him stand, leaning over me. Frowning, he leans over and grabs one of the pillows from the other side of the bed, quickly taking the pillowcase between his two hands and ripping off a long strip,
“You know you don’t need to do the linens thing and boil water that’s just in the movies. I’m sure Cora will bring something else to sterilize any instruments she brings-”
“It’s not for that,” he murmurs, leaning down and wiping the sweat from my brow with the little square of pillowcase folded in his hand. “How are you, love? How do you feel?”
I relax back as much as I can against the pillows, the next contraction not starting yet. “I feel… determined,” I say, gazing up at him. “Rafe is ready. He told me so. We’re both ready.”
“That’s my girl,” Sinclair says softly, taking my chin between the fingers of his big hand and gazing at me. “So strong.”
–
I nod at him, willing myself to believe it too – that I’m strong even though I’m scared and in pain. I am strong. For him, and for Rafe, and yes – for myself – I can be strong.
–
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