little older. In the meantime, though, I can always pick things up for you and bring them back.”
She smiled. “That’s a start
SHE DELIVERED ABOUT four hours later. Grant was surprised and gratified to find that once the delivery began, he simply didn’t have time to be afraid. There was too much work to do. His nerves quieted, and his alpha instincts kicked into gear.
The babies came easily, with none of the trauma and terror that had accompanied Marisa’s delivery. A boy first, then a girl, then two more boys, and finally one more girl. Five in all. Five children.
My pack.
He cleaned them carefully and laid them on a blanket, then swaddled them one by one in his t-shirts. Cait looked over, watching as he did so. “Are they all right?” she said, her voice faint with exhaustion.
He scooped up the firstborn, the boy, and handed him to his mother. “They’re perfect,” he said.
She struggled to sit up.
“Don’t,” he said. He lifted her upright a little and arranged her pillows behind her, propping her up. “There. Is that better.”
“Perfect,” she agreed, beaming up at him. She was glowing, radiant. She looked down at her son, his little fists waving in the air. “He’s not even crying,” she marveled.
“None of them are,” he said. “That’s the wolf in them. But he’s probably hungry.”
Her eyes widened. “They all need to eat,” she realized. “I can’t feed them all at once.”
“It’s all right,” he assured her. “We’ll go one at a time. They’ll all be fed. Nothing to worry about.”
He helped her to arrange the baby at her breast, then picked up the next in line, the oldest girl, and prepared her for her turn. When her brother had had enough, Grant took him back from Cait and handed the girl to her.
“It’s a good thing they don’t all look alike,” Cait said. “We’re going to be able to tell them apart, at least.”
Grant nodded. Already he had begun to identify the distinguishing features of his children. The oldest boy had a full head of thick dark hair, for example, where the younger two had only wispy brown strands. The last-born girl was smaller than any of her siblings and would be easily distinguished.
“They need names,” he said, passing another baby into Cait’s arms.
She laughed lightly. “Can you believe I’ve been pregnant for nine months and we never even talked about names?”
“Well, we did have a few other things on our minds,” Grant pointed out.
“That’s true,” Cait said.
“Besides,” Grant added, “we didn’t know until today how many there would be. It’s hard to plan for that.”
“I want to call the oldest one Grant Jr.,” Cait said.
“You do?” He was touched. He had never expected to have a son named for him. He reached out and touched the boy’s waving fist, and Grant Jr. grabbed his finger and held on.
“Do you like it?” Cait asked.
“I love it,” he said. He handed her the fourth baby and took the third one back. “Maybe we should call this one James,” he suggested. “After my friend who allowed us to escape from the university.”
“I like James,” Cait agreed.
“What about the others?” he asked. “Do you have any ideas?”
“William for the other boy,” she said instantly.
“You’ve been thinking about that.”
“No,” she admitted. “It just came to me, and it feels right.”
“Okay. Grant Jr., James, and William. What about the girls?” He picked up the littlest baby, the last born, and shook her little fist. “Do you have any ideas for them?”
“Chloe?”
“I like that,” he said. “And what about Mia, for the little one?” He held her up so that Cait could look at her.”
“That’s pretty,” Cait said, smiling. “Mia.”
He handed Mia to her, taking William back. “That was easy,” he said.
“Did you expect an argument?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t anticipate that we would like every suggestion each other made so quickly.”
“It’s easy for us,” Cait said. “We want the same things. We’re lucky that way.”
She was right. He held William against his chest. The baby snuggled into him and let out a soft sigh, and Grant couldn’t keep the smile from his face.
When they had all been fed, Cait’s eyelids began to droop. “You should sleep,” Grant told her. “You’ve been awake for an awfully long time.”
“But I want to help with the babies,” she protested.
“You can’t even keep your eyes open, Cait,” he said, laughing gently. “Go to sleep. They’ll still be here when you wake up.”
“What about you?”
“I’m not tired right now.” He rested a