He nodded. “I can do that.”
The black dots at the edge of her sight grew sharper until her eyes closed once more. Munro took the baby, and sleep followed for a few minutes. Or hours.
—DANGER!— Her Instinct blared the word, waking her. “Wh-what’s happening?” Their first son lay bundled in his crib, making soft squawks. Howls sounded from outside, the clash continuing.
Munro knelt between her legs, blood covering his arms. “I need you to push. The Instinct is telling me that we’ve got to get him born. Now.”
Another contraction gripped her. She pushed with every ounce of strength she had left. Nothing. When she made no progress on the next contraction, her Instinct screamed —DANGER! RELEASE YOUR BEAST!—
Munro had thought the worst was over. No. It was just beginning.
Their second lad seemed stuck. Why wasn’t he coming?
“I need the beast.” Kereny looked barely conscious. “Something’s wrong. He needs to . . . come out.”
Fear lanced Munro’s chest. “Just hold on a little longer.” For what? Who would save the day here? Only Kereny could.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I can’t labor and fight the beast at the same time. I can’t . . . I know I promised everything would be all right.” She sobbed, “B-but I can’t do it.” If she released her beast, her fatigue would melt away in a temporary surge of strength. “Munro, you know wh-what we have to do.”
The Instinct tolled: —NOW.—
She jolted too. “For our son, we have to.”
His heart sank at the determined look in her eyes. Possibly the last time he would ever see that copper color. He whispered, “Nay, love. Balery’s foretelling . . .”
Too late. She’d let go. “I love you so much, Munro. I love them. I promise I’ll return—”
Her beast came roaring forth. Her eyes turned blue, and a part of him felt like his existence was ending. As predicted, her beast had risen fully. At this point, only two fates remained for her.
Control over her beast forever. Or lost to it forever.
Moisture wet his cheeks as his mate revived and pushed with wild effort. In moments, Munro caught the newest member of their family in his arms.
Kereny’s beast inhaled scents, instinctively assessing the babes. His own Instinct said the lads were fine. Not so with his mate . . .
Once their second son let loose a cry, her blue eyes slid closed, and her body went limp.
Panic seized him yet again, but he knew she would regenerate. She’d passed out from pure exhaustion.
He needed to protect her and save her from her beast. All he could do was care for their sons and pray to the gods.
The rest is up to my lass.
SIXTY-EIGHT
Ren stood in the field of wildflowers where the circus fairgrounds used to be. Gloaming cast the stone pines and braided brooks in a gilded light.
Though she was clearly in a dream state, she somehow remained aware of everything happening in the bedroom. Munro rasping for her to return. The feel of her babies nursing. She wanted to see them together and know their names.
So much awaited her, but fatigue had her in its relentless grip. Once she was strong enough to wake, she would battle the beast yet again.
In her reverie, something moved in the woods. She turned in that direction to find ice-blue eyes glowing from the shadows. A wolf with shiny copper-colored fur emerged, lips drawn back from its intimidating fangs.
Fear filled Ren. But this was only a dream, right?
Her intuition told her that this wolf was no ordinary one. Recognition took hold. This splendid creature was . . . Ren’s beast! She murmured, “Hello, there, beautiful. What a dream this is.”
When Ren’s father had trained their horses, he’d used a soft touch and a lulling voice; what if she used that same approach with her beast?
“I was told I needed to out-alpha you,” Ren said. “To conquer you.” That might have worked with Will’s and Munro’s beasts. Yet the cunning in this one’s eyes all but dared Ren to try a similar tactic. “Perhaps we can come to an understanding instead?” Sometimes the answer wasn’t another fight.
The she-wolf tilted her head, snarl fading.
Ren eased closer. Drumming up courage, she offered her hand, palm up. She’d never quite understood how vulnerable her hand was until she’d extended it to an animal that could remove it with one bite.
The wolf took a halting step toward her, then matched Ren step for step. Soon Ren’s fingers were inches away from the wolf’s snout, from its fangs.
“Will you let me guide you? Only until such a time that I prove unworthy of your trust?”
The wolf seemed to weigh this proposition.
Ren couldn’t believe she’d once thought a Lykae’s beast was evil. It was merely a being that wanted to survive and protect its own.
Like anyone.
“The way ahead is clear, sweet beast. Shall we go onward?” Ren closed the distance between them until its breath warmed the tender skin of her wrist. She held her own breath as long moments passed. . . .