Only Him

Chapter 40

"Would you please stop staring at me?" I gasped out, doing my best to glare at my best friend while ignoring the surprisingly painful contracting of muscles in my abdomen.

"Sorry," she capitulated, turning instead to look at the fetal monitor over my shoulder. It beeped reassuringly, if a little faster than normal, as the baby felt the stresses of his abrupt and early eviction from his current home.

Early.

Too early. Thirty-four, almost thirty-five, weeks was too early. Dr. Gibson assured me that many babies were born at this stage and ended up perfectly healthy. Dhampirs, especially with our hearty nature, did exceedingly well with early births. Still, I struggled with the mixed desire to cross my legs and force my son to stay in a while longer and the absolute need for the pain to end and to have my body back to myself again.

I winced as another contraction washed over me, an insufferable vice grip around my midsection like a metal band being ratcheted tighter and tighter with no reprieve. It was going to tighten and tighten until my skin could no longer contain me and I'd burst. I guessed that was sort of the purpose of contractions but I still didn't like them. It wasn't just the baby that felt like it would come out, it was every bit of me, like I was struggling to keep the rest of me together as well. My breathing hitched as my lungs struggled to inflate. Dimitri reached out and rested what I'm sure was meant to be a comforting hand on my shoulder but I couldn't stand to be touched at the moment, my skin already felt alive with nerves and the extra sensation was too much. I slapped his hand away with a warning to never touch me again. It came out sounding more like a snarling, caged animal.

Just when I thought I could take the tightening sensation no longer, it relaxed, releasing all of its pressure in an instant.

I took in a great gulp of air, savoring the sensation. I would never take advantage of luxurious ability to breathe again.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled into the pillow beneath me as I regained my senses. "I didn't mean to snap at you two."

"It's alright, moya lyubov'," Dimitri cooed, carefully not touching me but instead offering up ice chips, the only thing the doctor was allowing me to consume at present. Not that I thought I could stomach anything else.

I'd been in this damn hospital bed for six hours by this point. I'd previously been under the illusion that labor would go quickly, especially after the suddenness of its onslaught. I hadn't been expecting to give birth today—and it was honestly looking like I would, in fact, be giving birth tomorrow—and so it only felt right that everything should have rushed so quickly. I'd watched a lot of romantic comedies lately and they all assured me that labor was quick and painful.

They'd been right about one thing at least.

I winced as another contraction hit, though, blessedly less intense than its predecessor.

I wasn't ready for this. Yes, Dimitri and I had prepared as much as possible in the physical sense for the arrival of our son, his room was complete and all of his perceivable needs already attended to, but I wasn't sure I was emotionally or mentally prepared. I'd hoped for a few more weeks alone with Dimitri, a few weeks to settle all of the uncertainty around us. I hadn't wanted my son born into the same world as Marlen. But it didn't look like I had much of a say in the matter.

When I'd been brought into the infirmary by a worried Lissa and a no-less-worried-but-better-at-hiding-it Dimitri, Dr. Gibson had—after assuring me that everything was progressing nicely—scolded me for putting myself into a high stress situation like the Council meeting. I'd received the full unabridged version of the 'I told you that you had pre-eclempsia and not to stress yourself out, what did you expect to happen' speech from her.