Mate Me in Moonlight

Chapter 142

POV: Adeline

Pain.

Sharp. Real. Now.

It steals my breath, locks my muscles, turns the world into a single point of white-hot sensation that radiates from my core outward. I'm standing in the healing house when it hits, Elara's hand on my arm, and suddenly I understand what she meant when she said it would hurt.

This is beyond hurt. This is my body tearing itself apart to make room for life.

"Aiden—" His name rips from my throat.

"I know." He's there before I finish saying it, his hands catching me, his presence flooding the bond. "I feel it. I'm here."

The contraction passes, leaves me shaking and breathless, and Elara is already moving with the efficiency of someone who has done this a hundred times.

"To the bed," she says, her voice calm, grounding. "Now."

Aiden guides me, his arm around my waist, and I can feel his terror through the bond even as his hands stay steady. Freya appears in the doorway, her eyes wide, and then she's at my other side, her fingers lacing through mine.

"I've got you," she whispers.

Another contraction builds. I feel it coming like a storm on the horizon, inevitable and massive, and when it crashes through me I make a sound I didn't know I could make—raw and animal and beyond words.

Elara takes charge.

"Breathe through it. Don't fight it. Let it do what it needs to do."

Freya holds my hand so tight I think she might break bones, but I need it, need the anchor of her grip to keep me tethered to something outside the pain. Aiden doesn't leave my side, his presence a constant, his hand on my back, my shoulder, wherever he can touch without getting in Elara's way.

Hours pass.

Endless hours. Excruciating hours. Time becomes meaningless, measured only in the space between contractions, in the brief gasps of relief before the next wave hits. The healing house shrinks to just this room, this bed, these three people who won't let me face this alone.

"I can't—" I gasp when the pain becomes too much, when I'm certain my body will break under the force of it.

"You can." Aiden's voice in my ear, rough with emotion. "You are. Keep going."

He's taking some of it. I can feel it through the bond, feel him pulling what he can of the pain into himself, and I want to tell him to stop but I can't spare the breath. The bond blazes between us, white-hot and fierce, and it's both anchor and agony.

Elara checks again, her hands gentle despite the urgency. "Almost there. On the next one, I need you to push."

Push. The word sounds impossible. But when the contraction comes, when it feels like my body is splitting in two, I do it anyway. I push through pain I didn't know existed, through sensation that obliterates everything else, through the terror that I'm not strong enough for this.

Freya's voice cuts through the haze. "You're doing it. Keep going."

Aiden's forehead presses against mine. "I love you. You can do this."

I push again. And again. And again.

Time fractures. I lose pieces of it to the pain, to the effort, to the way my body moves beyond my control toward some primal purpose older than thought. Elara's voice guides me, Freya's hand grounds me, Aiden's presence holds me together when I feel like I'm coming apart.

"One more," Elara says, and I don't believe her but I gather everything I have left.

I push.

The pain reaches a crescendo that makes everything before it seem small, and then—

Release.

A cry.

Not mine.

A baby's cry.

Our baby's cry.

The sound cuts through the exhaustion, through the haze of pain, reaches something deep in my chest and yanks me back to myself. I'm gasping, shaking, tears streaming down my face that I don't remember starting, but none of it matters because—

"She's here," Elara says, and her voice carries wonder even through its professionalism. "She's perfect."

Aiden's hand tightens on mine. Freya makes a sound that's half laugh, half sob. And I can't speak, can't move, can only wait as Elara cleans and checks and then—

Then she's moving toward me, a bundle in her arms, something impossibly small and infinitely precious.

"Here," Elara says softly. "Meet your daughter."

***

Everything else fades.

The pain. The exhaustion. The room. All of it becomes background noise to the weight in my arms, the warmth against my chest, the impossibly tiny person Elara places against me.

Small. So small. How can anything be this small and this real at the same time?

I stare at her, unable to process what I'm seeing. Dark hair, matted and damp. A face scrunched and red from crying, from being born, from entering a world that must seem impossibly bright and loud after months in the dark. Her eyes squeeze shut, then open, unfocused but searching.

They'll be hazel. I know it without knowing how I know it.

She's perfect.

"A girl," Elara says, but I already knew that too. "A healthy, perfect girl."

My hands shake as I hold her, terrified I'll drop her, terrified I'll do this wrong, terrified and awed and overwhelmed by every single thing about this moment. She fits in my arms like she was made for them. Like I was made for this.

I can't speak. Can only stare at this miracle, this impossible thing we made, this proof that something good can come from pain.

Aiden leans over us, and when I finally look at his face, I see something I've never seen before. Not in all the months we've been together, not in all the battles and struggles and tender moments.

Awe. Terror. Love so overwhelming it transforms him.

He reaches out with one finger, touches our daughter's tiny hand, and she grips it instinctively, her fingers wrapping around his. The sound he makes is broken and beautiful.

"She's real," he whispers.

"She's ours," I manage.

Freya stands at the foot of the bed, tears streaming freely down her face, her hand pressed to her mouth. Elara watches us with satisfaction and something deeper—the particular joy of someone who has shepherded life into the world and never grows tired of witnessing the first moments of wonder.

Our daughter makes a small sound, not quite a cry, and I pull her closer, instinct guiding what fear cannot.

"Hello, little one," I whisper, and my voice cracks on every word. "We've been waiting for you."