Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers, #9)(33)

When she looked at him with her amazing dark eyes and told him she believed in him, he was a total goner. If he hadn’t been wrapped around her little finger before, he certainly was now. He had to make this happen, and make it as non-traumatic as possible—for both of them. He prepared the room as quickly as possible, bringing in the birthing kit with sanitized instruments as well as towels and blankets. He boiled water to sterilize it just to be safe, and then set about making a small incubator.

Rose had two more strong contractions while he was constructing the small, crude incubator, really just a box with a blanket protecting the sides and bottom, and a soft light to keep the temperature constant. Rose walked around the house with him for most of the night, stopping to breathe when the contractions came. They came more frequently and were of longer duration. Kane began to really pay attention to how long each lasted. At first he didn’t say much, just wrapped his fingers around her calf and breathed with her, but she was tiring, and the contractions reached a point where she could no longer stand. At times he traced the rose petals on her ankle, until he was familiar with each one of them.

He helped her onto the bed, where they’d laid one of the two plastic-backed sheets from the birthing kit, and arranged her in a semi-sitting position, trying to mimic the drawings in the book. Her breathing changed significantly, and after two contractions nearly on top of each other, obviously very strong, she looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Kane.”

He knew she was ashamed of the admission. Rose had remained stoic, which he was grateful for, but now she was on the edge of panic.

Kane pushed aside his own attack of nerves and brushed the damp hair from her face. “Remember what the book said, sweetheart. You must be in transition. This is the most difficult phase, but it won’t last long. You have to change your breathing to stay on top of the—er ...”

“Contractions,” she snapped. “Say it. Contractions. It isn’t a dirty word.”

Definitely transition. The book mentioned a woman in that particular stage might consider doing harm to her man. He should have searched the bed for weapons. He nodded his head and forced the word out. “Contractions. Of course. My mind went blank there for a moment.”

“I’m sorry.” She let her breath out; her eyes went wide, her gaze clinging to his.

He took the initiative this time, breathing in short “push out” breaths. She matched his breathing, never once looking away from him. The moment the contraction was over, he wiped her face with a cool cloth. “You’re doing great, Rose. You’re very close now.” He hoped he wasn’t full of bullshit and that his guesswork was right. He sent up a silent prayer, not that he was a praying man all that often, but certainly enough that it should count for something.

She never once screamed or cursed at him. She breathed with him, staring straight into his eyes until sometimes he thought he might be drowning in the intimacy of the moment. He hadn’t realized just how intimate something other than sex with a woman could truly be, but he actually felt closer to her than ever before. He couldn’t ever imagine forgetting these shared moments and knew, no matter the outcome, he would always treasure the way they shared faith in each other. He had thought it would be a terrible ordeal, but as bad as it was, there was something raw and beautiful about it.

She closed her eyes and lay back, looking as if she’d fallen asleep. Dawn was creeping into the room, and faint streaks of light illuminated her face. She looked exhausted but peaceful. He frowned and reached to feel her pulse. She was actually asleep. What the hell had happened to the contractions? He scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to clear the cobwebs. He felt drained himself. If he was tired, she had to be ten times more so, but to go to sleep?

He massaged the back of his neck, trying to think. Where the hell had he tossed the book? In the long hours of labor, he couldn’t remember where he’d put it. Be logical, Kane, he admonished himself. Transition, the book had said, and then what? Pushing came next. They were close. He took another deep breath and washed his hands one more time before pulling on sterile gloves. He very carefully laid out the various items from the kit, hoping when the time came, he’d know what to do.

As far as he was concerned, all that mattered was that Rose and the baby came through it alive. Damn Whitney and his games. Rose had been frightened to trust his team, and now she was stuck in a hideout, enemies watching them, and about to deliver their child. Her eyes flew open and she gasped.

“Help me to the bathroom, Kane.”

He almost did, but then he remembered what he’d read about pushing. “That’s the baby, Rose,” he said matter-of-factly. He flashed an encouraging smile. “We’re about to meet our child. You just have to help him a little more, and then he’ll be in your arms.”

“There’s so much pressure.”

“He wants out,” Kane said, keeping his voice very calm. Inside he felt every muscle tighten up, but he refused to panic. Rose needed him, and if he never had the chance to do another thing for her, he would do this.

He pulled the two chairs he had brought into the room for her to set her feet on. He wanted as much gravity as possible to help. “I know it’s uncomfortable to move, sweetheart, but this will help deliver him faster and make it easier for you to push.”

She clutched at his sleeve as he moved her into position, her eyes frightened. “I can feel her coming.” Her terrified eyes met his. “Kane.”