Page 13 of His Bear Bombshell

My boyfriend —my mate— was in labor with a baby neither of us knew existed. A baby we couldn’t have possibly made together. Not unless…

Memories tickled the back of my mind.

Was it possible…?

Eric removed his gloves, placing his hands on Tim’s stomach to palpate the area gently. “You don’t know when you conceived?” he asked. “Because your belly doesn’t appear large enough for forty weeks gestation, so I’m concerned this might be quite a premature—”

“I’ve never had s-sex,” Tim insisted, sounding close to hysteria.

Eric soothed, “Okay, okay. Try to stay calm.”

“How?! How do I stay calm when you’re saying I’m—aaah!”

“There will be a logical explanation,” Eric’s tone was light and affable as Tim rode out what we now knew to be another contraction. “But, for now, we need to get through the immediate issue of delivering this baby.”

“I don’t want to,” Tim sobbed. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Eric smiled understandingly, “but there’s no other option. You’re almost fully dilated, so we’re doing this here and now.” He turned to Martin, giving instructions to take my truck and arrange a support team back in town.

Martin didn’t need to be told twice. He shifted on the spot, and I didn’t stop to consider how bizarre it felt to hand a raccoon my keys before he was running off into the dark forest with them held tightly between his teeth.

Eric settled back between Tim’s legs, sliding on a new pair of gloves. “Okay, boys,” he said brightly, “it’s show time.”

Chapter Seven

Giving birth was not on my bingo card for the year. And, even if it had been, I would have planned to do it in a hospital, or as an intimate home birth, not in the middle of a freaking forest during a pack run.

But there I was.

Conrad held me as I grunted, and screamed, and pushed, and cried.

God, I loved him.

I had no idea how I was pregnant. It all seemed too unbelievable. My head spun. Conrad’s support was the only thing keeping me going.

“Okay,” Eric declared after some unknown, but torturous amount of time and pain had passed, “baby’s crowning, Tim. I’m not going to lie: this part is going to suck. It’s going to burn, but you need to keep pushing during your contractions, okay?”

I whimpered but, as Conrad squeezed my hand and murmured “You’ve got this, darlin’,” into my ear, I nodded.

“Okay.”

The next wave of pain built, as did the pressure. I screamed, bearing down to push with all my might.

Eric was right: this part was awful. I felt like I was being stretched unnaturally wide, in a place that shouldn’t have existed anyway. It stabbed and ached and burned.

Then the pressure eased a little.

“Good, Tim. You’re doing so well. Baby’s head is out. Wanna see?”

With my eyes clenched shut, I shook my head vehemently. Did I want to see a baby’s head sticking out from between my legs? No. Hell no. One million ‘no’s.

Eric chuckled. “Fair. But, on the next contraction, I need you to push carefully. The shoulders are wider, so we need to be cautious.”

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by ‘push carefully’, but I tried not to bear down as hard during the next lot of contractions. If I’d thought the burning was bad for the head, it had nothing on the shoulders coming through. I lost track of what I was saying as I cried for this to all be over.

Seemingly working against me, time seemed to stretch, the pain making me feel sick.

Then, suddenly, the pressure vanished completely as I felt something —the baby— slide out of me. Relieved, I slumped against Conrad’s warm, strong body.