Savage

Chapter One - Naskia

Chapter One
Naskia

I smile at Seely as she flutters around the room, placing finishing touches on the birthing center and the baby's care table. Her cheeks are red with anticipation, have been since the delivery monitor started beeping four hours ago. Vessa Exie Welsben will arrive in exactly fifteen minutes, and with each vanishing moment, Seely's face grows more and more excited. It's hard not to smile, knowing we will bring a perfect child into a perfect world, into a place that does not know the evils of man.

"Almost time," she says, her fingers lingering on my stomach. "Are you nervous?"

I shake my head.

"Good. You won't even feel it."

I haven't felt an ounce of pain since the beginning of my pregnancy, and I don't expect to now. From what I've read on online articles, it is highly unusual to experience pain during childbirth. The only exceptions are women who forget to take their medicine, and I haven't missed my mark yet.

"It's time for another pill," says Seely when the timer falls to five minutes.

I pop the small green square into my mouth and swallow. Then I tip my head back and stare through the transparent ceiling. Our bedroom is directly overhead, and Vessa's nursery is in the room adjacent. Blue and green hues decorate the glass room, colors that Seely picked to resemble the outside world.

My eyes flutter shut as I imagine Vessa growing up in that blue and green room. I hope she's artistic like Seely, especially since she won't inherit her brown eyes or curly hair. Vessa will look only like me—well, like me and the Brute's supply of DNA. I wish there was a way to avoid Brute involvement at all, but Seely tells me that conception is impossible without them. So a portion of my child's appearance will come from an incarcerated Brute that will contribute brown hair, light eyes, and long limbs. As long as the Brute's fangs and behavioral aggression are not transmitted, I can deal with the rest.

"It's time," says Seely.

I open my eyes. Seely reads the directions aloud as she follows them. I try to listen, but her words begin to blur. I can't seem to process anything more than the fact my baby girl is finally being born.

"Almost there," says Seely, her voice cracking slightly. I don't look at her, but I know she's probably crying, always does.

A pealing wail splits through the air. The first cry of a newborn baby, of my newborn baby. A swelling sensation rings through my heart, and suddenly, I'm the one crying, fat tears rolling down my cheeks. I haven't even seen Vessa yet, but I love her more than I ever imagined possible. More than I love Seely, more than I love myself.

"Seely," I breathe, stretching out my arms. "Let me see her."

But Seely doesn't move. She stands with her back to me, facing Vessa's care table. Her arms are wrapped around our daughter, whose gurgled cries still echo in the narrow room. I push onto my elbows, surprised at the sudden weariness that overtakes me. I call to Seely again, but she ignores me.

She steps forward and lowers Vessa to the changing table. Except lower is not the right word for her abrupt movement. Drop. That's the word. A violent thrust onto the hard counter, something no mother would do.

An inhuman growl claws up my throat as I clamor sideways. My body protests the sudden movement, but I barely feel it. I can't feel anything but the boiling rage that seeps through my veins. Vessa's strangled cries grow louder and louder.