The admission tasted like weakness.
He swallowed it anyway.
Another violent contraction shuddered through Leena’s body. She gasped and gripped the front of his shirt, clinging as though the stone floor had vanished beneath her.
When her legs gave out completely, Rhen adjusted his hold and lowered her into the chair beside the bed.
Leena folded over her swollen belly, breathing in short, broken pulls as the contraction refused to release her.
“Breathe,” Rhen ordered, crouching in front of her. “Slow it down. Come on.”
“I c-can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
Her eyes squeezed shut. Her entire body tightened before a guttural sound broke from her throat.
It tore through him like a blade.
His hands moved once, uncertain of where they could help without hurting her, before one settled firmly between her shoulder blades.
Rhen did not comfort people.
He removed threats.
He ended pain by giving it a body and then destroying that body.
There was nothing here he could kill.
Leena sobbed once, her forehead dropping against his chest.
“Rhen,” she gasped. “I can’t do this.”
He caught her chin and forced her to look at him.
“Yes, you can. You will.”
She shook her head, tears spilling freely now.
“Look at me.”
His voice cut hard through the panic.
“You are the strongest damn woman I have ever known. You will do this.”
Her breath came in harsh, uneven gasps, but her gaze remained fixed on his.
“I’m here,” he said. “I’ve got you until Sule gets here.”
Her fingers tightened in his shirt as another contraction struck.
Rhen held her as though letting her fall would be an unforgivable failure against Sule, the clan, and the one person he loved enough to fear losing.
His phone buzzed.
The sound was obscene in the violence of the moment.
He pulled it free with one hand.
