Sold as the Alpha King's Breeder novel Chapter 299

Chapter 79: George

Ernest

“GET OUT!” Gemma roared as she stood bent over the bed, her hair wet with sweat and matted to the sides of her face. Rowan backed through the doorway, tripping over Ethan, who caught him before Rowan could fall flat on his ass in the hallway of the medical clinic. Ethan was wide eyed, stealing a single glance at Rosalie before he dragged Rowan out of sight.

Dad was right behind them, but he stopped before shutting the door, giving me a soft, emotional smile. I nod ded, smiling back, just as Gemma roared again, this time screaming “F*CK!” loud enough for the glass panes in the window to tremble.

Rosalie was at her side, her arms coming around Gem ma’s shoulders. She was whispering in Gemma’s ear, and Gemma was shaking her head, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead.

Rosalie looked at the midwife, who was busy talking to my mom in the corner of the room as they folded towels. When Rosalie failed to get their attention, she moved her gaze to me. She slowly left Gemma’s side and glided across the room, dressed in a nightgown and robe.

“Talon made it seem like it was an emergency. Is she al right?”

“She’s fine,” I said a little too loudly. Gemma snapped her head in my direction, her eyes narrowed into slits. “She’ s doing a great job!” | paled as Gemma’s lip trembled, fury flashing behind her eyes.

“Easy for you to say. It must be nice-ow!” She bent her head toward the bed, rocking her hips from side to side.

“I’m terrified,” I leaned into Rosalie, whispering discreet ly into her ear.

“Don’t be, she’s going to be fine,”

“No, for myself,” | admitted, swallowing hard. “She wants to kill me. I can see it in her eyes.”

Rosalie arched her brow as she stifled a laugh.

“It won’t be long now,” the midwife said as she passed by with a stack of towels in her hands, setting them down on a table on the side of the room.

It was a cozy space with soft yellow walls and cream colored vinyl flooring. It looked more like a bedroom than a hospital room, but the midwife and her assistant had ex plained the reasoning for that during one of Gemma’s re

cent appointments. It was meant to make the patient feel more at home, calmer, and it seemed to prove successful

especially during births.

Winter Forest had had a baby boom over the past decade, and the midwife had delivered almost every single one in this village.

But despite the warm ambiance of the room, vases full of flowers, and a barrage of women tending to Gemma’s every whim, she was struggling.

Her water had broken only an hour ago, and the situa tion escalated rapidly from there. I had to carry her to the clinic, and she nearly skinned me alive with her fingernails during the short walk from her mother’s house along the shoreline. She had broken the skin in a few places where she gripped my arm for dear life, but I knew it paled in comparison to what she was feeling now.

“I’m done; I don’t want to do this anymore. I changed my mind. Ernest, I want to go home now!” She pleaded, reaching up to wipe her nose. Her face was stained with tears. I wanted to take her home. I would do anything she asked if it would take the pain away. But that wasn’t an op tion.

| stepped past Rosalie and went to Gemma’s side, where I sat on the edge of the bed and held onto her arms as another ripping contraction swept over her body.

Rosalie and the midwife were watching her carefully. I could see a moment of recognition pass behind Rosalie’s eyes, which was quickly replaced by relief as Gemma came out of the contraction and caught her breath.

“She didn’t talk through that one,” the midwife said to Mom as she made a note of the time on her clipboard be fore hanging it back up on the wall. She moved toward the sink and began to thoroughly wash her hands.

“Gemma, I think it’s time,” I said gently, tucking her hair behind her ears as she rocked back and forth, holding onto my shoulders.

“Just cut it out. Put me under!”

“It’s too late for that now, sweetheart. This baby was ready to go!”

The midwife had donned gloves with the help of her as sistant and was moving toward Gemma. Gemma saw her and tensed, her eyes meeting mine and giving me a look of utter terror.

“You’re doing great, Gem.”

“I want to go home – oh, Goddess, please, help!” She pressed her head against my shoulder, straining with all her might. I wasn’t totally sure what to do now, so I sat there

like an idiot, petting her as though she was a cat. We had taken a birth class with the midwife, but it had been a calm experience. This felt like… war.

“Ernest, honey, let’s get her on the bed,” Rosalie was at my side in an instant, her hands gently running down the length of Gemma’s arms as she began to coax her onto the bed.

Mom was standing on the other side of the bed looking absolutely ecstatic as she beamed down at Gemma, who was purple in the face and grimacing.

“Are you ready to have this baby?” The midwife posi tioned herself between Gemma’s legs, smiling up at her over the tight swell of her stomach.

“No!” Gemma cried, and I felt tears welling in my own eyes.

I looked across the bed at my mom, who had taken one of Gemma’s hands and was leaning down to whisper en couragements to her. Rosalie placed her hand on my back, patting it gently before she took Gemma’s knee and held it in the crook of her shoulder.

I took Gemma’s hand. “You got this, Gemma.”

I didn’t take my eyes off of her. I felt like everything!

had ever done in my life had led to this very moment. I had spent every waking moment of the last nine months won dering how I would ever deserve her. She was so strong, so incredibly intelligent and all around perfect in every way. And now she was having my child.

I don’t know how much time passed. I don’t remember the words I said to her as she brought our child into the world. I only remember the feeling of her hand in mine, and how the tension abruptly left her body as the tell-tale wail of an infant filled the room.

They placed him on her chest, his knees reflexively tucked into his belly like he had been in the womb. Gemma was sobbing, and Rosalie was stroking her hair. Mom looked a little pale, but the wide smile stretched across her face was undeniable.

I reached out, my hand shaking as I laid it over his head. His head fit in the palm of my hand, his fine, jet-black hair soft against my skin.

I couldn’t believe it.

I felt at that moment that I must have been dreaming. It felt like only yesterday I had carried Gemma out of the cas tle and laid her down in the clearing, thinking her lifeless. Gone.

I thought I’d never have this moment with her.

But suddenly, the boy was in my arms, wrapped in a thick blanket, a silly little blue hat on his head. He felt heavy in my arms despite his size. I didn’t realize Rosalie had guid ed me into a chair until I looked up, seeing Gemma looking down at me from the bed, her face damp from sweat and pinkened with exertion.

But she was smiling, tears rolling down her cheeks. ”

“I love you so much,” I said to her, my voice catching in my throat.

Her eyes creased with pleasure.

***

“Does he have a name yet? It’s been two weeks.” Ethan walked into the living room carrying a round of beers in his arms, passing them around.

It felt snug in the small house, but there was something magical about seeing the family congregate around Gem ma as she held our son in her arms, sitting in a high backed chair next to the window overlooking the inlet. This was the house she grew up in, and we had brought our son home to it. We had joked that we’d find a way to take the whole house back with us when we inevitably moved back to Mirage.

“Well,” Gemma smiled at me, patting the baby on the bottom as he slept, his chubby face nestled in the crook of her elbow. “We finally decided on one.”

“Oh? Well, tell us!” Mom was absolutely giddy about be ing a grandmother, despite her jokes about being far too young for such a role.

Gemma rose from her chair and placed the baby into Mom’s arms, and a flush of pleasure rose into her cheeks. Gemma looked down at the baby, smiling as he opened his mouth in a huge, gummy yawn.

“We‘re naming him George,” I felt my mouth twitch into a smile as I watched my parents’ faces. Dad stared at me blankly for a moment as he registered what I had just said. And Mom, well, she started to cry.

“For-For Georgia?” Mom sniffed, her blue eyes shining the afternoon light pouring through the lace curtains be hind her.

Gemma nodded, on the verge of tears herself.

Ethan and Rosalie were standing in the corner of the room, Ethan’s arm around her shoulder as he watched the scene unfold. He sipped from his beer, giving me a nod, a very Ethan way of saying ‘good job’ or ‘congratulations.’

Gemma sat next to me on the couch, exhaling deeply as I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, and she settled in next to me, her exhausted body melting against mine. “I wish Maeve was here.”

“Me too,” | replied, stealing a glance at Rosalie. She nodded, smiling weakly as her eyes glazed with moisture. It had been just over seven months since the invasion. Seven months, and not a word about Maeve‘s whereabouts.

We had exhausted all efforts to locate Troy’s ship. Ethan was a mess, of course, but hid his wariness behind his usual mask of calm reserve. His efforts had shifted to building an army of allies across both the east and west, rounding up troops for what would evidently be a war against Poldesse. But months had passed, and Damian had straight up vanished, Poldesse ceasing their operations in the Isles with not so much as a Beta to take Damian’s place. No one had caught a glimpse of the Persephone since shortly after the invasion. No one had news.

It was peace time again, but a blanket of unease was suffocating our family. It was Hanna who we turned too for guidance now, her visions of Maeve the only clues we had to her welfare. She had sensed that whatever journey Maeve was on had been destined and interrupting the process would be counterintuitive.

Rosalie had been the one to convince Ethan to listen, to take a step back, despite their concern. We trusted Hanna

because there wasn’t much else we could do.

I had been taking short trips to Mirage to oversee the reconstruction of the city, designating Lance as the Alpha in my place whenever I returned to Winter Forest. Gemma and I would have to leave soon, now that George was born.

But returning to normal life felt wrong, in a way. A nag ging feeling that the worst was yet to come kept tugging at the back my mind.

Rowan and Hanna entered, followed by Kacidra, who Gemma had taken a special interest in recently. Kacidra had been coming over to help with the baby, holding him and washing his cloth diapers while Gemma took shallow but restorative naps. They rarely said a word to each other, but a bond had formed, nonetheless.

I looked over my shoulder out the window, peering through the curtains at the inlet as the water lapped against the store. It was lightly snowing, the sky a pale gray.

Ice would cover the inlet in a few short weeks.

I looked at Ethan, who had also been looking out the window, and I knew what he was thinking.

If Maeve didn’t come home soon, who knew how long it would be until we saw her again?