I got my arm around Julian's waist and we started moving. He stopped twice on the way to the parking lot with his fingers digging into my forearm as contractions hit. It was hard enough to bruise. It didn’t hurt but it would have been painful for a human.
"Breathe." It felt kinda silly to be saying that. Of course he was going to breathe. But I had to remind him how to do it because otherwise I’d be flailing. "In through your nose and out through your mouth."
"I know how to breathe," he panted.
I got him into the passenger seat and ran around to the driver's side. "How are you feeling?"
"Like the baby’s trying to claw their way out." He hissed as another contraction took hold of him and he gripped the dashboard. "They're getting stronger."
I pulled onto the road. With one hand on the wheel, I reached toward him with the other. He took it and squeezed so hard that itwaspainful but my wolf told me to forget that.
"Breathe with me. In for four, hold for two and then out for six."
We breathed together through the next cramp. It was eighteen minutes to home. Maybe fifteen if the lights cooperated.
"Talk to me," Julian said when it passed. "Distract me."
"We were up by one when I left. Raul has it."
Another contraction cut him off and he doubled over as far as the seatbelt would let him and a desperate sound tore out of him. I wish it was me giving birth because I could take the pain and I didn’t want the man I adored, my mate, to be in such agony.
"Renard, it hurts."
What was I supposed to say to that? He was the one giving birth and the one who’d carried our child all these months. I couldn’t tell him it didn’t or to ignore it.
"Our little one is almost here, my love. The pain will be gone soon and you’ll have our baby in your arms."
The contractions were coming faster. Three minutes apart, then two. Julian was gripping the door handle and my hand simultaneously. His breathing was ragged between contractions but deep and steady during them. I watched the road and swiveled to look at him and kept my voice steady.
"Renard." His voice cracked. "I don't think we're making it inside."
I turned into our driveway. "The baby doesn’t care about the time or the place. They just want out and to meet you and me." I sounded unruffled as though I delivered a baby in the car every day. But my belly was churning. There was no one here to help Julian other than me. I had to be his support, midwife and mate rolled into one.
But as I breathed with Julian, a calm came over me as pack birthing instinct I must have absorbed surfaced.
Leaving the engine running, I raced to his side and he caught my arm and dug his nails into me.
"I need to push," he gasped. "Now."
I pulled off his pants, got him into the back seat, and helped him bend his knees. My hands were shaking and I asked my beast to make them stop if he could. I kneeled on the concrete driveway that felt rough through my sweatpants.
"I'm scared." My mate’s eyes were wide. "What if I can’t do this?"
"We’re a team. You, me and the baby. We’ve got this." I squeezed his knee and met his gaze. "Your body knows what to do. Trust yourself."
The next contraction hit. Julian’s face contorted and he bore down. The baby's head was beginning to crown and the nearby streetlight shone on our little one’s dark hair. Now was not the time to let fear or excitement overtake me and my wolf helped control my breathing.
"You're doing so well. I’m so proud of you. A few more pushes and the baby’s head will be out."
"It hurts." The neighbor's porch light flicked on at Julian’s screeching. But they were a shifter and they’d scent what was happening so there was no need for an explanation.
"It’s almost over, my love. You’re so close. Give a big push on the next contraction."
There were more contractions and more pushing before the baby’s head was out and I supported our child’s head with both hands. They were still trembling but when I touched the baby’s head, they stopped.
"One more push and we meet our baby."
Julian groaned and pushed and I helped ease the shoulders through one at a time before the baby slipped into my hands. We had a tiny little girl who screamed the moment she was born.
