Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Robert grips me so tightly, but it’s okay because I need his support, or I’ll fall flat on my face. “He’s coming,” Hallie says. “He’s…”
And then the cresting flame of pain subsides, and Robert eases me to lie down and roll over, cradled by his body.
Hallie wraps Connell in a blanket, and Evan takes him from her. I watch as her bright, happy expression slides into wide-eyed panic. Warm heat spreads under me, and Hunter gasps, “She’s bleeding,” in my mind.
“It’s normal. Everyone bleeds when they give birth,” I reassure him. But maybe this is more. Maybe the lightness in my head isn’t just joy.
I focus on my sons as everything slips away.
41
EVAN
“Goldie.” Robert pats her face, but she’s limp in his arms. Beneath her, blood spreads like spilled wine, more scarlet than I’ve ever seen in all our mauling and killing.
“She’s hemorrhaging,’’ Hallie says. “We have to call an ambulance.”
“Shit.” Hunter places the baby on the bed and leans over Goldie. He pats her face hard. “Goldie, wake up. You can’t fall asleep, baby.” In our minds, he growls, “Goldie, wake the fuck up. Right now.”
Nothing. She’s limp and totally unresponsive. Connell squirms in my arms, his eyes wide like he can sense his momma is in danger. They’re linked to us, too, but too young to communicate yet.
“The ambulance won’t get here in time,” Hunter says, his voice dead.
“What do you mean?” Hallie looks between us, panicked. “We can’t leave her.”
“Of course we can’t leave her. Give the baby to Hallie,” Hunter barks. I quickly do as he’s asked, focusing on Goldie. Behind her, Robert’s eyes are wide and desperate as he continues to try to wake her, to no avail.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, crouching at the end of the bed, resting my hand on Goldie’s cold foot. Her toenails already look discolored, and my throat closes tight.
“We have to link her properly?”
I stare between my brothers, not understanding.
Robert frowns. “To link her means we put her in danger, doesn’t it?”
“SHE’S DYING,” Hunter growls, dropping to his elbows as he voices our greatest fear.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “What do you mean?”
“We claim her again, but this time all together.”
“But what difference will that make?” I ask.
“Her life-force will become linked to all of ours. If one of us dies, she will die. If she dies, we all die.”
The gravity of this decision is like a knife through my heart. Goldie’s our destiny, our future, our mate, but if we do this, her safety will directly link to our own. We won’t be able to fight without risking her life. We won’t be able to keep her safe unless we preserve our own lives. There’s no safety in numbers anymore. We can’t fight securely, confident that if at least one of us survives, she’ll still be in our care. It’s all or nothing.
“We don’t have a choice,” Hunter communicates before I can voice my concerns. He’s right. We don’t. I wonder why I didn’t even know about this as an option. Maybe it’s something that’s only passed from alpha to alpha.
“Quickly,” Robert says. “Her pulse is weakening.”
Hallie clasps her face, looking on. The guilt in her fearful expression is stark.
Robert shifts Goldie into Hunter’s lap, her limp body flopping. I find my bite mark on her calf, and Robert focuses on her arm. Her tummy is soft now that our children are in the world, and the stretch marks are like a lattice over her skin. She’s so beautiful but she’s paying such a heavy price for loving us.
“Now,” Hunter orders.
Goldie’s flesh is soft and cool; her previous vitality has already drained. Her sweet blood has turned bitter, and I close my eyes as the claiming process flows from me all over again. My legs twitch as her thoughts mingles with mine. Three tiny bears in the woods—not our offspring, but us, me and my brothers—and a tiny golden-haired girl. “That’s us, Goldie,” I whisper through our connection. “That’s us. Don’t let go. Don’t leave.”
There’s a flash of golden light through my mind that didn’t come with the original claiming, and then my heart stops.
It takes seconds for it to restart, beating in a different and weaker rhythm.
“She was close to the edge,” Hunter says, resting his hand over her heart. “She was so close.”
I pull away, licking the wound I’ve reopened as Robert and Hunter do the same. It takes time for it to heal, longer than the original scar.
“What now?” I ask.
“We wait.”
Coran, who’s resting on the bed alone, starts to cry. Connell, hearing his twin, does the same in Hallie’s arms. She’s looking on at the wrecked body of our mate, rocking a red-faced Connell up and down, still wide-eyed and fearful.
“Will it work?” she asks.
“Yes,” Hunter says confidently. “My father… he told me about my great-grandmother. The same thing happened.”