Protecting the Wolf's Mate (Blood Moon Brotherhood), Page 2
Sasha Summers
The Alpha’s mate was in labor.
Not just any labor. A human woman delivering a wolf-pup child. A human woman doing her best to pretend as if nothing were wrong.
“Conserve your strength,” Ellen murmured at the woman’s side.
Jessa glanced her way. “I’m fine.”
“You are,” she agreed. “And my job is to keep you that way. For your husband, your son, and that one.” She nodded at Jessa’s tight stomach.
“It could be a false alarm.” Jessa’s blue gaze darted toward Oscar, already down for a morning nap. “I don’t want to add more stress. Finn has enough to worry about.”
“Come sit.” She snorted, watching as Jessa made her way to an upright rocker. “Your mate is an Alpha. Stress is part of that. And this stress he will welcome.” Which was true. The larger Jessa became, the greater Finn’s concern. While she was confident both mother and child would come through delivery healthy, the rest of the pack weren’t so sure. But they didn’t know what she did. She knew what it was to be a wolf. She knew the power of a solid mated pair. Cyrus and the Others might have robbed her of her memories, but snippets slipped through and occasional glimpses of what was—what should be—remained. There was something familiar about the bond between Finn and Jessa. Something irrefutably solid and irrevocable.
Her fingers absentmindedly ran along the scar slicing along the crown of her head. How it came about she didn’t remember. Who put it there, she had no doubt. Soon this baby would be born, Jessa would no longer be in danger, and she would be free to go. That was the agreement they’d made. Finn had proven himself respect-worthy in her time with the pack. She had every reason to believe he would honor their agreement.
“Ellen?” Hands on her stomach, there was no missing the crease of pain between Jessa’s brows.
Ellen stopped pacing and sat. “Breathe.” She drew in a deep breath, hoping Jessa would follow her lead.
The contraction was obvious. Muscles clenched. Her stomach lurched. Skin paled. Heart racing. Ragged Breathing. Sweat. Fear.
“No fear,” Ellen whispered. “You are strong. Be strong.”
Jessa nodded, closing her eyes, and breathed. “Can I walk?”
“Of course.” She helped Jessa up. “Walking will help move things along. Stop when you need to.”
They made a few laps around the room before Finn and Hollis, in deep conversation, joined them. Whatever they were discussing, it wasn’t good. Both moved with a rigid agitation, both wore the same grave expressions, and both of them needed to calm the fuck down—now.
“You’ll both need to eat a good breakfast today,” she began, drawing their full attention. “Breakfast you’ll make yourselves. Once you’ve cleaned that up, you’ll need to set aside whatever has you both scowling to focus on more important things.”
Finn’s brows rose, a mix of amusement and irritation on his face.
But Hollis understood immediately. “How far apart?” he asked.
She waved her hand, dismissing his immediate need to calculate and quantify. “Close enough.”
“You’re okay?” Finn whispered, drawing his mate into his arms with such tenderness Ellen had to look away.
She’d learned how to lock away frivolous wants like tenderness and affection. After being kept as Cyrus’s personal plaything, she was lucky to be treated with civility—versus outright aggression. When Jessa was kidnapped, Ellen had protected the woman out of instinct. The same instinct that surged within her now.
Jessa nodded, looking far too uncertain.
Life had taught her to be direct and, when necessary, brutally honest. It went against her disposition to be cheerful. Worse, to attempt to inspire or rally. But, dammit, Jessa had to believe she could do this. Fear, now, was a waste of energy she’d need. Whether or not Hollis and Finn believed didn’t matter as long as they acted like they did. Ellen had no doubt.
She smiled, feeling a fool, and spoke with what she hoped was enthusiasm. “She is strong. Before the sun goes down, you will be a father again.” Her gaze darted to Hollis, seeking support. Instead he regarded her with open shock. Her smile gave way to a frown.
Ass.
“When did it start?” Hollis asked, his gaze falling from hers.
“This morning.” Jessa leaned into Finn, her hands tightening on his arms as her stomach drew taut once more. “It’s been getting stronger.”
“Now would be a good time to talk to Olivia about watching Oscar.” Hollis was talking to Finn. “We can’t leave him with Tess.”
Ellen agreed but kept her opinions to herself. Olivia was a new wolf and new to this pack, but she was loyal. Beyond her pairing with Finn’s number two, she’d carved a space for herself and enjoyed every aspect of connecting with her wolf. She understood the gift it was to be a wolf—unlike Hollis and his preoccupation with some attempted cure.
Finn lingered.
“I’ll stay with your mate,” Ellen offered. “It might be best to go to your room? So we don’t wake up the little pup?”
Jessa nodded, hooking her arm with Ellen’s and then leaning against her. “Good idea. Maybe he’ll sleep through it.”
“I’ll be quick.” Finn nodded, practically running from the room.
“You need help?” Hollis trailed behind them, closing the nursery door as everyone left.
“You’re the one with the checklist, Doctor. My plans are to keep her comfortable, but I seem to remember a far more in-depth plan from you?” Teasing him was a wonderful tension reliever.
“Be nice.” Jessa squeezed her hand, coming to a stop in the hallway as another contraction rolled over her. “Please,” she ground out.
“Breathe,” she whispered. “It will all be worth it when you’re holding your baby.” A sudden lump formed in her throat. Wrapped in barbed wire. Making it hard to breathe. It was always there, that pain. Controlling it was sometimes a problem.
…
He wanted to believe that the nerves and looming sense of anticipation were from this. Jessa’s labor was a big deal. But, dammit, he and Ellen had prepared. If there was a problem, something Ellen adamantly refused to consider, they’d come up with a contingency plan for every possible complication. Together, they’d do everything in their power to make sure Jessa and the baby were safe and healthy.
But the more time clicked along, the stronger the sense of foreboding became.
“You’re doing well,” Ellen praised Jessa.
Maybe her behavior was part of the problem. He bit back a smile. She wasn’t known for her cheery disposition or praise. She was…Ellen. Not that he hadn’t seen glimpses of the woman within the hardened exterior. When she was with Oscar, she was an entirely different person. Soft, curious, smiling—almost hopeful. And this pregnancy? This baby? It mattered to her, deeply.
“I’d like this to be over now.” Jessa’s words were ended on a long groan, her face going red as her entire body stiffened.
“Soon,” Finn whispered, pressing another kiss to her forehead. His Alpha shot him a tortured glance.
Hollis couldn’t imagine. He didn’t want to. Ever. Even after he found the cure and they were all normal humans again, without any remaining evidence of their prior violent canine-shifting existence, he knew he wasn’t wired for this.
Ellen nudged him. “Go.” Her gaze drifted to the door. “Find out what’s happening.” Her pupils were wide, her wolf shining through.
Confirmation that he wasn’t losing it. But not exactly the best news, considering where they were and what was happening. And that the pack was probably to the airport by now. Shit. “What—”
The high shriek of the fire alarm split the air seconds later. Brown, the head of security, would take care of it. The man had stayed behind to watch over his daughter, Tess. Her rescue from the Others was too new for the man to let her out of his sight for an extended time. Not after she’d been their captive for so long.
Any time now. Brown was on top of things.
But the alarm
kept going.
His gaze collided with Ellen’s. Her wolf was raging, eager to get out.
And Finn? The mix of rage and fear on his face set Hollis in motion.
“I’m going.” His step quickened once he’d left the room. What the fuck was happening? Whatever it was, he should have clued in before now. Wolf or not, he’d picked up on something “off”—and chose to ignore it. First things first, where was Oscar?
Olivia met him in the hallway, holding Oscar, looking ready and willing to shift.
“What’s up?” Calm. They had to stay calm, keep their heads, until they knew what the fuck was happening. Wolves didn’t do calm. Another reason he was glad he wasn’t a wolf.
“I don’t know.” She bounced Oscar on her hip. “Oscar and I were chilling out with Tess—” Her eyes widened as she spun and hurried back to the great room.
He followed, dread sinking deep in his bones. The room was empty and the alarm kept beeping. Fuck. “Brown?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Still in the control room?”
Bullshit. If he was, the fucking alarm wouldn’t still be going off. He ran down the other hall, past the gym to the control room.
No Tess. No Brown. And, as far as he could smell, no fire. He punched in the code, silencing the alarm. What had triggered it? Brown? As a warning? A warning of what? His stomach twisted sharply, sweat beading on his forehead. If the Others were here… They were alone. Vulnerable. Easy prey to a pack set on ripping them to pieces. “Fuck.” He punched the metal cabinet so hard it buckled before he headed back to the great room, hoping like hell the Others hadn’t found them. Not now. “No Brown.”
“Jessa?” Olivia glanced at the closed bedroom door.
“She’s close.” He ran a hand over his face.
“I’ll find him. Tess was freaking out over Jessa. He’s probably calming her down,” Olivia offered.
It was a logical explanation—one he immediately dismissed.
“Or maybe she got scared and ran, and Brown followed her,” she suggested, sounding as skeptical as he felt.
Finn came stomping down the hall, wild-eyed and tense. “What’s happening?”
“Tess is gone. Brown isn’t in the control room.” She continued to bounce Oscar.
Finn stiffened, bracing. “Call Mal back.” The look he gave Hollis turned his blood to ice.
“Wait,” Olivia said, knowing how important their mission was. “Give me five minutes to find them.”
No way. Mal, her mate, would have a shit fit if Finn let her go on recon alone. On a regular day Mal’s temper was a problem. When it came to Olivia, he and his wolf didn’t hold back.
“What does your wolf say, Olivia?” Finn was studying her, assessing her wolf. Ellen had been spending a lot of time with her, helping her bond with her wolf and use the extra senses and abilities she now had. She was a natural wolf, according to Ellen.
As if anything about their situation was natural.
She frowned. “Something’s not right.”
Finn nodded. “Call them back.”
Hollis headed again to the control room. He lifted the long-range walkie. “Mal? Come in?”
“Hollis? What the fuck? Regret skipping this one?” Mal chuckled.
No point in dragging this out. “Something tripped the alarm.”
“Turn around,” Mal barked, immediately followed by the squeal of brakes. “Brown’s take?”
“We don’t know where he is,” Hollis answered. “Or Tess. Jessa’s in labor,” he continued.
“Did Tess know Jessa was in labor?” Mal cursed, long and loudly.
Hollis paused. “Yes.”
“Headed back,” Mal said. “Put down the blast doors, seal everything up. This is not a fucking drill. They know where we are, and they are coming.”
“Tess?” Hollis mumbled. They should have known. She’d been the Others’ prisoner for years, been turned by them, and reuniting her with her father didn’t change that. Still, she’d seemed broken, too helpless to be a threat to the pack.
“Now, Hollis,” Mal snapped. “We’re fucking idiots.”
Hollis pulled the earpiece out and scanned the wall of screens that showed the refuge from a variety of locations. Nothing out of the ordinary. Trees, birds, mountains, and wide-open sky. Nothing menacing. Yet. He lowered the blast doors, wincing when they slid into place. If Finn had sent Olivia, she was out there, facing God only knows what.
“Hollis!” Ellen’s call had him running.
“It’s time.” Ellen waved him over, handing him a blanket. “When the next one comes, Jessa, push.”
He’d seen it before. Childbirth was messy and loud. But the sound of that cry—of first breath—told the world of its latest arrival. Jessa pushed, then the baby slipped free and into Ellen’s waiting arms. And when the baby, a girl, wailed with force, Jessa began to cry.
“A girl,” Ellen announced.
He’d never heard such tenderness from her. She held that baby with awed reverence that made his chest heavy. The smile—full of anguish, joy, and haunted in a way—forced the air from his lungs. This Ellen was wounded and broken—no matter how hard she fought to prove everyone otherwise. Even now, she stiffened, pressing her eyes shut until her face was blank once more. She wrapped the infant up and handed her to Finn before facing Hollis. “We should give them a minute alone.”
Meaning she wanted to know what was happening and didn’t want to worry Jessa. He hadn’t been aware of Oscar, sitting in his playpen, until Ellen scooped up the toddler and carried him from the room.
“Snack,” Ellen said, leading the way to the kitchen. “Tell me.”
“Brown and Tess are gone—”
“Of course, they are.” She spun. “Olivia?”
“I’m not sure. She wanted to go but—”
“Take him, Hollis. They are in trouble. We all are.” Her eyes blazed.
“The blast doors are down.”
“Open them. Now.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m going out.”
There was no arguing with her, he’d learned that shortly after her arrival. “What are you going to do?” he asked, awkwardly bouncing Oscar.
“What I do best.” Her gaze lingered on Oscar. “Fight.”
Chapter Three
He can’t be dead. He can’t be dead.
Ellen stood absolutely still. Waiting. Watching. No movement, no movement, nothing. And, inside, she couldn’t stop screaming. Couldn’t wrap her mind around what she saw—pale, cold, and stiff on the ground.
The wind reeked of death. Three bodies lay in the blood-soaked snow. Three bodies mangled and terrifyingly still. But only one held Ellen’s attention. Byron. Byron the butcher. Byron the bastard. Motherfucking coward.
“Get up,” she ground out, shaking her hands, fighting for control as she stalked the dark-red patch of snow where he lay.
If he moved, if so much as a finger twitched, her wolf would act swiftly. Even now her wolf was pushing to get out, the urge to tear what remained of Byron’s body to tiny pieces was almost beyond control. Part of her wanted that, too.
Part of her wanted to run away. Far away.
Where would she go? She had no place. No one and nothing. She’d be hunted by all sides, the good and the bad, because she was neither. Peace was not in the cards for her.
Time was slipping away. Dead or not, Byron had answers. And the only way to get them required touching him. Being weak was never an option, especially now. Palms clammy, heart slamming into her ribs, stomach churning, she forced herself closer to Byron’s remains.
“Ellen?” Hollis’s voice. Soft. His hand gently clasping her arm.
She spun, her fist smashing into his nose without thought. Byron’s presence put her wolf on alert. Instinct ruled—the instinct to protect and fight. At the expense of Hollis’s nose.
He released her, one hand covering his face. “Jesus, Ellen. It’s me.”
Of course it was. Hollis was her shadow. Always two steps behind.
Byron loved traps. Setting them. Waiting for them to spring. And playing with his new toy—unless his Alpha had other ideas. Her gaze swept the perimeter of the meadow, looking, anxious. Were there more here? Waiting to attack? Waiting to drag her back? Her wolf sensed no threat. Not yet. But there was only one way to be certain.
She spared a glance at Hollis, his curse muffled as he pressed a handkerchief to his bloodied nose. He’d heal, wolves healed quickly. But a broken nose wouldn’t matter if Byron’s pack, the Others, were coming for them now. The only thing that would matter then was survival.
No more standing around. Pushing aside the rising panic, she closed the gap between herself and the man who had delighted in torturing her.
He is dead. Dead. Gone. No threat anymore.
A gust of wind blew Byron’s shaggy mop of thick black hair, giving the illusion of movement. Her wolf whimpered. She froze—cowered—before red-hot anger took over. “Bastard,” she hissed between clenched teeth.
Enough. No more weakness.
Crouching, her bare knees numb in the biting cold snow, she shook her hands before pressing her fingers against Byron’s chilled flesh. Faint sensations slid across her fingertips. “Damn you,” she ground out, biting into her lower lip, placing her palms flat against his body. Years of experience warned her she was too close, in striking distance, preparing her for the first blow—but her wolf demanded she stay strong. Clenched teeth, every muscle poised to run, breath shallow and uneven. Concentrate. Breathe. He can’t hurt us now.
Byron was cold. Stiff. Gone. But it offered no relief. His death was her right, a right she’d been robbed of. Rage rolled over her, so much she burned with it. To see him this way—throat ripped wide, a clean death—only added to the insult. Byron the butcher hadn’t deserved mercy.
