Nothing painful, just... strange.
Alaric doesn’t press, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me either. Instead, he crosses to the window, pushing the curtain aside to peer out at the gathering darkness.
“It’s coming in fast,” he says. “Faster than they predicted.”
I don’t look up. My attention is focused on the slow, rhythmic tightening across my abdomen. I’ve had Braxton-Hicks contractions for weeks. They’re just practice contractions, Helena, our midwife, called them.
My body just preparing for the real thing. Nothing to worry about.
The first raindrops hit the windows withsurprising force, a rapid tapping that quickly builds to a steady drumming. Outside, the palm trees sway, their fronds whipping in the gathering wind. The sky, which was blue just an hour ago, has darkened to a sickly green-gray.
“She’s going to hit us hard,” Lorenzo says, joining Alaric at the window. “Look at those clouds.”
The lights flicker once, then steady. Then flicker again, dimming for a long moment before brightening.
“I’ll get the candles,” Lorenzo says, already heading for the kitchen. All the staff in the mansion had gone home to their families for the day.
The rain is coming down in sheets now, so heavy I can’t see the ocean through the windows, just a wall of gray. The wind has picked up, too, a low moan that rises steadily to a shriek as it tears around the corners of the mansion. The entire structure groans, the beams protesting as the storm makes landfall four hours earlier than forecast.
The power flickers again, dimming to almost nothing before flaring back to life.
“Shit,” Rex mutters, already on his feet. “Where’s the flashlight?”
“Closet by the garage,” Marcus calls over his shoulder as he disappears down the hall, looking for plywood to board up the windows.
I push myself to my feet, wincing as my back protests. Making my way to the kitchen, I see Lorenzo lighting up a candle just as the power flickers one final time, then dies completely.
“Hey baby,” says Lorenzo.
Before I can say anything back, the kitchen plunges into darkness, broken only by the dim light filtering throughthe windows. I reach for a match to help him light up a second candle.
The first contraction suddenly seizes me.
A sharp, insistent tightening that starts at the base of my spine and wraps around my entire abdomen. It’s low and deep, like a fist closing around me from the inside, squeezing until I can’t breathe.
I drop the matchbox, my fingers suddenly nerveless.
“Anya?” Lorenzo’s voice sounds far away. “You okay?”
I force myself to nod, though he probably can’t see me in the darkness. “Fine,” I gasp when I can speak again. “Just... dropped something.”
It’s Braxton-Hicks, I tell myself firmly. Just my body practicing. It’ll pass.
Five minutes later, another one hits, harder this time. I’m standing at the counter, trying to light another candle, when the pain comes—so intense I have to grip the edge of the sink to stay upright.
A small sound escapes me, a whimper I can’t quite swallow.
Alaric is moving before the sound even leaves my lips, crossing the kitchen in three long strides. His hands cup my face, tilting it up so he can see my eyes in the dim candlelight.
“What just happened?” he asks, his voice tight.
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “I think...” The words stick in my throat. “I think I might be in labor.”
The kitchen goes silent. Even the storm seems to pause for a moment, the wind holding its breath.
“You’re what?” Ryker’s voice is deadly calm.
“The baby’s coming,” I say, the words coming out steadier than I expected. “The baby’s coming right...”
