When Marquis turned to place the child in Mads’s arms, the water gurgled, draining away so it didn’t wet the child’s blanket.
“I hate this part the most,” Mads laughed as Trenton worked to remove the placenta, the end contractions the worst of it all. “F-fuck.”
He groaned and closed his eyes, cradling his child in arms that rapidly prickled with gooseflesh from the cool air. As the cleaning proceeded, sharp pressure ached at his chest, and the instinct to feed took over. Mads cradled the little girl, fingers brushing through wiry newborn hair, the weft of it a silvery pale and clear color. A few shades paler than Mads’s own. Perhaps in time, it would darken, and a pang of sadness settled in his stomach. Lowborn.
Marquis must have noticed because he brushed his fingers through Mads’s hair and whispered, “She has your beautiful starlight hair.”
Mads cried, fat ugly tears pouring over his cheeks as they took his babe and helped him up. A bandage tugged against the skin of his lower belly, the swollen sag of it aching in the best sort of way, a reminder it had all gone well. In time, it would heal. In time, his child wouldn’t look like the larval form of a mage, too, but more pressing questions came to mind. “What happened to Vans being icked by bodily fluids?”
Dr. Vans, who had turned to speak to Trenton, halted his conversation and glanced over, brow furrowed. “Babies don’t count.”
“Babies. Don’t. Count.” Trenton muttered under his breath and shook his head. “Why?”
Dr. Vans shrugged and held his hands out. “I dunno. Babies are clean. They’re minty fresh and new, like a fresh glove from the box.”
In a way it made sense. About as much as anything to do with mages, but hang-ups didn’t have to have reasons.
Mads shuffled, his body aching as he held his babe and leaned into Marquis for balance. As they left the bathroom and approached the living quarters, Victor and Sikko glanced up, eyes wide and hopeful. It wasn’t the excitement over a babe, necessarily. Nor was it the joy of a parent. It was hope for a future. Two alphas that couldn’t bear a child together finding that one had progeny. “Morgana Penumbra.”
The two polar bears grinned wide and kept their distance, both surprised when Mads wanted them to hold the little one. She calmed in their arms, head turning toward their warmth as they leaned in to one another. Sikko stroked the pad of his finger over the child’s forehead. “And a middle name?”
Mads frowned. “Never thought of one…”
“Would you take a suggestion?” Victor glanced up, lips spreading in a wide smile.
“I wouldn’t say no.” Marquis rubbed Mads’s shoulders in a gentle way.
“Aurora. It fits well with Penumbra, the northern lights, and eclipse.” Sikko smiled.
“I like that.” Mads smiled as he took their child to a comfortable armchair and settled in, letting a blanket be thrown over his legs. He wanted to rest, but tradition remained so.
“The rest of the coven is coming in with their wishes.” Marquis gestured toward the two polar bears. “It’ll be quite the procession, I’m afraid. Would you like first offering?”
Victor and Sikko approached, Mads’s father first, resting a hand over the little girl’s forehead. He shifted his hand, talons and fur sprouting to a warm, soft paw—the nails trimmedback to something far less murderous. “Mages give parts of themselves. I have no magic to give you anything but my own desires for you to take from me. My desire to have close family ties, a strong heart to love infinitely. As I love easily, so I hope you will too.”
“But more wisely.” Sikko laughed.
“Unwise love gave me this.” Victor pulled his paw away, shifting it to a hand once more.
Sikko approached next, offering his paw with a gentle shift, white fur brushing her cheek before resting atop silvery hair. “I offer you my own shifter magic. May you know comfort with it and bridge communities.”
Vans approached, eyes a glazed and adoring thing to behold. The soppy look didn’t fit the eccentric fellow. “As I am determined and focused on what I want, I offer you my patience. Maybe if I have a little less of it, I’ll make some rash decisions.”
Vans pulled out his wand and offered a gentle tap of it to the child who stirred with a coo of infantile frustration. He drifted his gaze back toward the scowling omega, lips twisted.
Marquis’s phone rang as Dr. Vans pulled away, Bradley from Rexford’s coven, Mads saw at a glance. He held the phone to his ear and smiled, happily announcing the birth, if he’d not gotten the texts already. Rexford should have been on his way.
Marquis’s expression dropped as Mads listened. Bradley spoke on the other end. “That’s wonderful to hear! I knew you were expecting. I suppose it’s a horrible time to ask this of you but I don’t think I can wait… Warring came to stay with me because he—never mind. I keep getting weak and losing my magic around him then it bounces back harder. I swear I get glimpses of his mind and something’s weird. I don’t really feel… I have reservations… Is it an omega thing, a familiar thing or…”
Mads snickered.
Marquis groaned.
“What?” Bradley’s voice shook. “Is this wish poisoning? Did I ingest some by accident? Is he okay? Am I okay?”
“Bradley. When a mage and a familiar love one another very much—” Marquis enunciated the words carefully.
“Is this a heat thing? I think he’s close to one. Is that what it is? We’ve not had sex! I swear. We share a bed sometimes but it… It stops above the belt. I swear.”
