The elevator dinged, and Titus pushed me out into the office. I pulled some of my discomfort back in to let my mates focus on signing me in. Then, the moment I passed triage and was cleared for the delivery room, I shared the aches and pains with my mates again.
Labor took much longer than I would have expected. I went through cycles of agony, in and out for hours. Every time the doctor came in, I wasn’t dilated enough for delivery.
When we were left alone again for the umpteenth time, I turned to Cyrus. His silver-blue eyes watched me with concern. “Are fae supposed to dilate before giving birth?” I asked, wishing I’d spent more time talking with the Healers.
His lips curled on one side. “Yes. Be patient, Claire. Your body is still half-human. You’ve gone through an incredibly accelerated pregnancy for your genetic makeup. You can do this, but don’t rush it.”
“Patient?” I repeated. “You want me to be patient?” That was Exos’s chosen phrase. Not Cyrus’s. And I’d been pretty damn patient all night. “Why isn’t my body cooperating?”
“Because you’re not ready, Claire,” Cyrus replied, his tone holding a touch of his trademark chastisement.
“But I was more than ready on Halloween when you impregnated me,” I snapped.
He sighed. “Claire. I know it hurts, but you’re stronger than this.”
My eyebrows winged upward. “Stronger? Are you…” I trailed off on a hiss as another contraction hit me. This one I blasted through the mate-bond, causing Cyrus to double over on an exhale. “Patient… enough… for you?” I asked through my teeth as another contraction hit me almost immediately.
Fuck! The shout came from all my mates. Or maybe one of them. I really couldn’t tell because chaos had erupted around us as the doctors returned.
Sol and Vox were arguing about something.
Exos was speaking urgently to Cyrus.
And Titus was looking at me as though I were dying.
Am I dying? I asked him, panicking.
You’re okay, sweetheart. I just hate seeing you like this.
“Claire,” Cyrus was saying, pulling my attention back to him. “It’s time to start pushing.”
“What?”
“Push, little queen,” he urged.
I’d completely missed where the doctors said it was time, but I read the urgency in their expressions.
“It’s time?” I squeaked, then another pain slammed into my abdomen, and I about shot out of the bed. “Cyrus!” He gave me his hand, and I clamped down, my insides rioting as my instincts took over.
Push.
Okay.
Push.
Yep.
I can do this.
But no matter how many times I pushed, it wasn’t over, and all it did was radiate aches up through my hips and spine. It felt like I was being ripped in half, and not in a good way. “It’s not working!” I cried out, anger and sadness and failure filling me as a hum sounded in my ears. “Why isn’t it working?”
Cyrus and Exos sang into my thoughts.
Titus joined them.
Then Vox and Sol were there, too.
I barely heard the doctor talking over them, his voice so far away beneath the cloud of soothing evoked by my mates.