Fated for Her Wolves - Tara West Page 0,84
with a confidence she didn’t feel, “this will be easy.”
Chapter Four
STIFLING A GROAN, AMARA leaned over Annie, praying she’d soon see the head crown. After panting through the worst contractions in her life, Amara had managed to push out the tiniest baby she’d ever had, heal the small rip in her crotch, and then crawl over to Annie. She was so damn tired, she wanted nothing more than to take her infant to her breast and pass out, but she couldn’t leave Annie and her mates to face this delivery alone.
She squinted in the darkness. The power had gone out, and they had to rely on candles and the fireplace for light. A portable heater operated by an outside generator provided warmth.
The older boys were fast asleep in bedrolls by the fire, so exhausted from playing all day, they didn’t stir through Amara and Annie’s moans of agony. The dogs rested at their feet, keeping watchful eyes on the fire and children. Babies Evin and Bjorn slept in a playpen, sucking their thumbs under their favorite blankets.
“Amara,” Rone called from the kitchen, where he swaddled the baby in a blanket. “You should rest.”
She looked up from between Annie’s spread legs. “I’ll have plenty of time to rest after Annie’s baby comes.”
Though she’d draped a towel over her, parts were exposed to her mates. Annie’s mates had probably seen Amara’s gory lady parts, too. It wasn’t to be helped, and she wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. All she cared about was that both babies were safely delivered.
Annie’s cervix suddenly opened like magic, and the head poked through. “He’s crowning, Annie.” She squeezed her cousin’s knees. “A few good pushes, and we get to welcome your son.”
Several groans, screams, and curse words later, Annie’s son was out. Amara wrapped him in a towel and handed him to Magnus.
“Say hello to your son,” she said and was surprised when the stoic alpha looked ready to burst into tears.
Amara cleaned her up and Magnus placed the crimson-faced crying babe in Annie’s arms. Her mates hovered, counting fingers and toes and tickling his chin, and Amara felt ten shades of awkward being thrust in the middle of their tender moment. This family had been through a lot of hardships over the past few years. They deserved to be happy.
She sat up and stretched her sore back, thanking Drasko when he helped her up. “Do you need help with latching, Annie?” she asked.
Annie traced the babe’s nose. “We got this.” Awestruck, she gaped at her son. “Take care of yourself, Amara.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. She’d been waiting a long time for a daughter and couldn’t wait to hold her little girl in her arms.
WHILE LUC AND DRASKO checked the perimeters, Hakon carried Amara upstairs, taking tender care with her as if she was the newborn babe. After cleaning up once more, she sat in bed with the covers pulled up, trying not to be alarmed by the howling wind outside. She imagined the snow drifts would be well past the first story by the time they woke up, but she had mighty protectors who could easily clear a path for their dogs to go outside.
A strong fire crackled in the fireplace near the bed. They had enough dry and canned goods to survive an entire winter without power, though Amara preferred having the luxuries of electricity.
She waited anxiously while Rone finished washing the baby downstairs. She checked the bedside clock. It was half-past one, Christmas morning. What perfect little Christmas gifts she and Annie had delivered.
When Hakon climbed into bed beside her, the firelight flickering across his face, making the gold flecks in his eyes sparkle, she snuggled in his arms. “Remember when Hrod was born?” That had been a stressful time for all of them. Drasko had been banished and a werewolf curse threatened to kill them all, but their family had pulled through.
He squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll never forget.”
A sudden sadness washed over her when she realized she’d never again feel the magic of a baby kicking inside her. This little girl was her last child. Her family was finally whole. All of the missing pieces were in place, but she feared time would pass too quickly, and she wouldn’t get a chance to savor each of her children’s milestones.
Rone came in cradling the fussing newborn, beaming ear to ear. “You won’t believe her weight.”
She frowned at the crimson-faced infant whose fingers were the tiniest she’d ever seen. “Six pounds?”
“Six-and-a-half.” He