Lord's Fall (Elder Races #5)(92)

She sagged back down against the pillows. “Oh, thank God.”

“He feels strong and healthy.” Dragos’s gold eyes were red rimmed and worried. “Is that all right?”

Her mind whirled from one thought to the next. Since she had never expected to be able to come into her full Wyr form, she knew rather more about human babies than most Wyr did.

The baby was now in his human form, and she was nine months pregnant. Liam was much too small to be born as a dragon baby, but in his human form, he appeared to be just right. And if she could give birth to him in his human form, it meant she didn’t need to have a C-section. As long as he stayed in his human form he would be fine, until his dragon form had matured enough for him to maintain it independently.

Don’t worry, Mom. Everything is going to be fine. I’ll make sure of it.

“Seven pounds is a little on the small size, but for a human baby, it’s good.” Her own gaze dampened. “It’s a really good size. It’s normal. I think everything’s going to be all right.”

Dragos expelled a pent-up breath and hung his head. He stroked her belly with both hands. He still had not stopped shaking. “Okay. That’s good. Do you want to get dressed before I take you to the hospital? I’ll still wrap you in plenty of blankets.”

She patted his shoulder as she calmed down. “We’re not going to the hospital.”

His head came up. “What?”

“I said we’re not going to go to the hospital,” she told him. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself to a sitting position. Wow, oh wow, did she feel ungainly. How did human women go through an entire month like this? “I’m going to take a shower,” she said. “And then I want to put on one of your T-shirts, and we’re going to have the baby right here.”

“Pia, no,” he said.

“Dragos, yes,” she told him. “Liam has surprised us, but he told me everything was going to be all right, and I believe him. Besides, I like it here. It’s peaceful and quiet, and I want to look out at the lake.”

“What do you mean, he told you, and you believe him?” Dragos roared, “He’s a fetus!”

She pointed to the door. “All the big voices go outside now.”

“PIA, GODDAMMIT!”

“I mean it, Dragos! It’s my pregnancy and my body, and I’m having the baby right here. Now, you can go outside and wait until it’s done, and you’ve got two hundred and fifty acres that you can rip to shreds if you have to.” She shook her finger at him. “But you do not come back inside until you can talk in a quiet voice. Do you hear me?”

He stared at her with his mouth open. Oh, she wished she had a photo of that look. Then his mouth snapped shut. “Okay,” he said, and glory be, he sounded marginally calmer and much more quiet. “It’s your pregnancy and your body, but you’re my mate—my wife—and that’s my son. I’m not going anywhere. Give me a few minutes to make a few phone calls, and then I’ll help you with the shower. I don’t want you to have one of those . . .” He rotated a hand at the wrist. “. . . One of those birthing spells . . .”

She raised her eyebrows. “Contractions?”

He snapped his fingers. “. . . Contractions, where you might run the risk of slipping and falling. You’ll wait for me to get back, do you understand?”

She smiled. “Yes, I’ll wait.”

He rushed out of the room and leaped downstairs to the ground floor, and she did wait for him, sort of. She could hear him snorting and seething on the phone as she went into the bathroom off the master bedroom, where she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She had to put down the toilet lid and sit as she waited through another contraction. Was her hair all right? Yes, it was clean enough. She had washed it just that morning.

From the doorway of the bathroom, Dragos said, “Good gods, you’re putting on makeup.”

He hadn’t bothered to get dressed yet. Even though she was in the middle of labor, his nude, muscled body was worth a moment of reverent silence.

“What?” she said, turning back to look at herself in the mirror and holding her lips stiff as she stroked on lipstick. “It’s our son’s birthday. I want to look nice.”

“Makeup.”

She noted that while he put emphasis on the word, he did not speak too loudly. She gave him a pointed look. “I could hear what you did downstairs. How many phone calls did you make? I lost track at ten.”

“Every one of those goddamn phone calls was necessary,” he growled.

They were going to have to do something about his swearing, as little pitchers grew big ears. Actually, they were going to have to do something about her swearing too.

She shrugged. “My makeup is necessary too.”

“Right.”

Despite what he said, his hands were gentle and patient as he helped her into the shower. She had been planning to sluice off quickly from the neck down and was thankful for his help when another contraction hit in the middle of it. Gritting her teeth, she groaned and leaned on him, shaking, while warm water pattered against her back and swirled down her legs.

“Dr. Medina said to breathe into it,” he whispered into her hair as he held her, rubbing her back. “Are you all right? Do you need to sit down?”