Chapter 91 : Little One
Rosalie
“Rosalie,” Ethan whispered.
I opened my eyes to his voice, his face only inches from mine. The dream I had been having disintegrated and fell back into the furthest recesses of my mind, the calm silence of sleep interrupted by background noise; papers rustling and the foot steps of someone unfamiliar walking by.
“Maeve’s awake. She’s alright. Troy is with the boys.”
“The boys? On-” | sat upright, expecting to feel pain, but I felt… nothing. I turned to Ethan slowly, gooseflesh prickling across my skin.
He smiled, tears welling in his eyes. “Everyone’s okay. Even the little one. He’s-he’s perfect, honey. I mean -” Ethan looked like he was about to cry. He was choking on the words.
I pulled him into me, my hand on the back of his head as he knelt between my knees. He crumbled in my arms, and I let my own tears fall into his hair.
Oh, Goddess. They were okay. It had worked. I had my pow ers again.
“Is the baby… is his heart…” I couldn’t finish the sentence with out breaking down.
Ethan nodded, his strained laugh making us both tremble. “The doctors checked him out. The hole is gone, almost like it was never there. He is small though; I’ve never seen anything so
small. Barely three pounds.”
“Oh, my,” I said, unable to stop myself from smiling. “That is very small.”
“He has no hair, but the other two are – they have very fine red hair, like Maeve did when she was born. Troy had the boys put in a room together, even the little one. He didn’t want them separated. He said it-it was all they knew. They only knew each other.”
“He’s right,” I said, hiccupping. “Oh, I want to see Maeve. Have you seen her yet, since-”
I lifted my head off of his and looked around for the first time. We were in the hospital in Mirage, in a small waiting room. I felt a prickle of unease as I looked around, and Ethan noticed my change in demeanor.
This was one of the only places not touched by Damian’s in vasion, but it still carried the weight of the memory of those in jured during the battle that took place in the city. He looked up at me, then rose to his feet, holding out his hand.
“How do you feel, Grandma?”
| beamed, his words erasing any and all apprehension.
“I feel like new. Let’s go see our daughter.”
***
Ethan
Maeve was sitting upright in the hospital bed, a smug grin on her face as we sat around her, each of us holding one of her many babies. She had just been dead, and upon hearing Troy’s retelling of the birth I was absolutely shocked to see her sitting up
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right, talking to us. Overall, he was jolly and light hearted.
“You have a litter,” | said, not even trying to hold back the pure joy in my voice as I looked down at the almost microscopic bundle in my arms.
He was the smallest one of the bunch, so tiny I could practi cally hold his entire body in the palm of one hand. But he was healthy and strong, his coloring a robust pink against the pale yel low swaddle he was wrapped in.
“What’s in his nose?” | asked.
“It’s called a nasogastric tube,” Maeve said, matter-of-factly, sipping from a huge cup of water. She seemed pleased as she watched all of us obsess over her creations.
“It’s to help him eat, I guess. He doesn’t need it though. He nursed just fine about an hour ago. And those two brutes-” she pointed to the bundles in Troy and Rosalie’s arms, “had no issues whatsoever. I’m surprised I have nipples left.”
I rolled my eyes. Maeve rarely had a filter, even in front of me. Troy colored, however, glancing at me through his lashes be fore abruptly looking away. He was absolutely exhausted.
I was very proud of him for how he’d handled himself over the past day and a half. And even though I still had my doubts about his abilities to run an entire pack on his own, there wasn’t anyone else I would trust with my daughter.
He loved her, that was obvious. And watching him beam down at his newborn sons made the tension loosen in my shoul ders.
There had been a time when I thought he was after some thing. He had explained Romero’s desires to me, letting me. Know he kept that part of the scheme a secret from Maeve.
Romero was dead, and Troy didn’t think it was necessary to tell her about his desire for White Queen blood to mingle with their family tree.
These boys weren’t pawns in Troy’s quest for control, be cause Troy wasn’t on such a quest. His world revolved around Maeve, and for that I was grateful. He had just saved her life and brought Rosalie back into her powers.
“What’s wrong, Dad?”.
I turned to Maeve, who blinked, watching with suspicion.
“Nothing just… lost in thought.”
“Do you think these two are identical?” Rosalie leaned into Troy to compare the two babies they were holding. I looked back down at the little one, who was looking up at me, his irises nearly black, even under the dimmed fluorescent lights.
I thought I could see a hint of blue in one eye, but the other was obsidian in color. I remembered Rowan and Maeve’s eyes looking like that once and how we marveled at the dramatic trans formation their eyes took over the next few weeks.
“Hello,” I said softly to the baby in my arms.
He stared up at me, opening his mouth just a little into what | was sure was the beginning of a smile.
“I hope they’re not identical. I’m already having a hard time telling those two apart.” Maeve reached for the apple on the table next to the bed, rolling it in her hands. She looked slightly un nerved and had dark circles under her eyes.
If we hadn’t just been through hell and back, I would have chalked it up to the fact that she just gave birth to triplets, but there much more to the pain hidden there.
“We’ll be able to tell regardless. Right?” Troy sounded skepti cal, glancing over at Rosalie for reassurance. I smiled softly to myself, taking what felt like the first deep breath I had inhaled in months.
We sat holding the newest additions to our family for a long while, the one in my arms eventually falling asleep. I reached up and ran a finger across his cheek, marveling at the miracle that was my grandson.
“Well, one of them is going to be Charles. Charlie.” Troy looked down at the baby he was holding, tilting his head to the side before glancing at the one in Rosalie’s arms. “I think he’s Charlie, He just looks like that’s his name.” He pointed to Rosalie’ s bundle with a grin.
“Well, hi Charlie,” Rosalie said sweetly, giving the baby a huge grin. Goddess, I hadn’t seen her smile like that in a long time.
“We didn’t really talk about their names, to be honest. We’ve been rather preoccupied.” Maeve was now eating a sandwich to go with the three apples she had devoured in the last half hour. “Troy wanted to name one of them Charles because of the journal he found in Lycaon’s tomb. I thought it was a great idea, especial ly after reading it. He sounded like a brave man, and he was defi nitely interesting. Troy wanted to honor him in some way.”
“Charles is a fine name. A strong one.” I shifted the little one’s weight in my arms, wondering silently what name they planned for him.
“I like Gabriel,” Maeve said.
“What do you think about William?” Rosalie asked.
“Was it your father’s name?” Troy asked Rosalie.
“I know it’s a weird name-”
- ly.
I inhaled deeply. “What did he look like, exactly?” | asked, al ready knowing the answer.
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Sold as the Alpha King's Breeder
Yeah sorry full of crap clichés skipping chapters...
Really oh fn....off another weak heroine roll, her pack hated her, she was abused, why would she do this .... pfghhj off at another cliche novel. .... Nope...