by J. L. Wilder
I’ve been concerned about my ability to carry the babies to term, but when I raised the issue with Jack, he laughed it off. “Of course, you’ll go the full nine months,” he assured me. “You’re an omega, after all. A normal woman couldn’t handle it, but you’re built for this. Those cubs aren’t coming out until they’re good and ready.”
As it turns out, he’s right.
I go into labor early one afternoon, when the sun is still shining through the clouds outside our den. Luka is the only one home when it happens—Jack and Ryan are both out hunting in preparation for a coming storm—and he springs into action, helping me settle into my nest and bunching up folded skins behind my head to serve as pillows.
“I should go,” he says, moving toward the door, hesitant. “I should go out and find the others, right?”
“No!” I gasp. I’m suddenly terrified—this is already painful, and I suspect it’s only going to get worse—and I don’t want to be left alone. “You can’t leave me, Luka, you have to stay. Promise you won’t go anywhere.” I’m struck by the fact that there’s no way I could move right now. If he does decide to leave, I won’t be able to chase after him. I’d be stuck here, alone and helpless. The idea scares me more than anything that’s happened to me so far. “Don’t go.”
“Okay, okay.” I can tell it upsets him to see me so frightened. He lies down next to me on the floor of the den and takes both my hands in his. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, Cami.”
We’re still like this, side by side on the floor, me fighting through the agony of each contraction and Luka watching helplessly and wiping my sweat-soaked hair from my face, when Jack returns. He takes in the scene and immediately understands what’s going on. He’s at my side in a flash, kneeling at my feet, speaking to me in a low and steady voice. “Cami, do you remember the breathing exercises we did?”
I nod, my eyes squeezed closed. Jack and I sat together on a few separate occasions and he coached me on how to breathe when I was in labor. But how does he expect me to do that now? I can’t even think straight.
His hands rub up and down my thighs. “You’re doing great,” he says quietly. “Just keep going. You’re doing a great job.”
At some point, the storm begins. I don’t know if it’s before or after Ryan returns. I’m in a haze of pain for a while, just trying to live through each second, focusing on the voices around me in turn, the gentle hands on my hot skin. At some point, I become aware of lips pressing into my collarbone and I open my eyes to see Ryan there, his eyes warm and worried.
“You’re all right,” he whispers. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Outside, the thunder rumbles, and I feel like it’s shaking my bones.
“Okay, Cami,” Jack says, his voice suddenly businesslike. “It’s time.”
And somehow, physically, intuitively, I know exactly what to do. A moment later, my work is rewarded by a high, piercing cry. Jack passes the baby into Luka’s arms and Luka looks down in wonder. “It’s a girl.”
I don’t have time to marvel at that. I want to take my new baby girl from Luka and hold her, admire her, give her a name and tell her how loved she is. But my work isn’t over. Jack’s voice draws me back to the business at hand.
Five more times, the process is repeated. Five more babies. Five more cubs to join the clan. By the time it’s all over, I’m gasping, completely worn out, but high on my own achievement, and each of my bears is cradling two new babies in his arms. Six babies...I can’t believe I carried them all. I can’t believe I gave birth to them all. I’ve never been so proud of myself in all my life.
Exhausted and more content than I’ve ever been, I allow my eyes to close and the sounds of my children to wash over me.
BY THE TIME I WAKE up, the men have cleaned the babies up and dressed them in the tiny onesies we bought in preparation for their arrival. Now that Jack has a job at the nearby auto shop, it’s easy to pay for the few things we can’t get for ourselves. As I gain consciousness, the first thing I’m aware of is the lightness of my own body. It feels wrong after so many months pregnant, and it jolts me awake before I can fully remember what happened and why it’s okay that my body is no longer full.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” says an amused voice, and I look up. Ryan is sitting behind me, cradling my head in his lap.
“Have I been out long?” I mumble.
“Only about an hour. We thought you deserved the rest.”
“The babies?”
“They’re perfect, Cami. Absolutely perfect.”
“Can I see them?”
In answer, he slips his arms under mine and lifts me so I’m sitting upright with my back pressed to his chest. From this angle, I can see the entire cave. Jack and Luka are sitting across the fire from us, each of them holding one tiny bundle in their arms. Four more are laid out on a deerskin, clearly sleeping, tiny perfect faces at peace.
“Oh,” I whisper. I feel as though my heart is melting.
“Three boys and three girls,” Ryan says. “An even split. Can you believe it?”
“That’s amazing.” The men have dressed them according to gender so that I’ll know which is which, the girls in pink and the boys in blue. Someone has also taken the insightful step of placing a rubber band of a different color around each baby’s right wrist. I don’t need to ask the purpose of the bands—they will help us tell our children apart until we know them well enough that no markers are necessary.
But there’s one thing I don’t understand. “The socks,” I say, picking up a tiny foot and examining it. “Did someone write on them? Is this a seven?”
“It’s upside down,” Luka says, blushing a little. “That’s an L.”
The dots connect. “L for Luka?”
“We’ll have to do genetic testing at some point, of course, if we really want to know. But we studied their features and made our guesses, and we all agree on whose we think is whose. Not that it really matters, of course, because we’ll all be a family together, we’ll raise them all as if they were each of our own. So, there’s no reason we even need to think about it, besides general curiosity...except in one case.”
I’m half listening, examining the babies’ feet. Two of the boys and one girl have the “L” for Luka. The other two girls are wearing “R” for Ryan. And the final boy is the only one to have a “J” on his sock.
Except in one case. I look from my son to Luka. “He’ll be the alpha?”
“That’s right. Assuming we’re correct, and he really is the only one who’s Jack’s. That would make him the alpha of the next generation of Hell’s Bears.”
I lift the tiny alpha into my arms and he yawns and stretches. “He’s beautiful,” I whisper. “They all are. Do they have names yet?”
“Of course we didn’t name them without you,” Ryan says, feigning insult. “What, did you think you’d wake up and we’d have made all the important decisions after you did all the work of carrying them and giving birth?”
“Well, I would have been angry,” I concede.
No one really wants to go out hunting tonight, but the water skin is almost empty, so Jack reluctantly makes a run. Luka, meanwhile, settles down to make stew, shooting me a sideways glance that lets me know the two of us are laughing at the same joke. Within minutes, the cave is overtaken by the amazing smell of cooking meat, potatoes, and vegetables. I can’t remember the last time I was so excited for a meal.
Luka dishes out the stew just as Jack is returning, and the four of us gather to eat—not around the fire, as we ordinarily would, but around our babies. We can’t seem to take our eyes off of them. Occasionally, we’ll look up at each other, silly grins stealing over our faces as the happiness bubbles up. Ryan stays behind me, letting me lean against him as I eat, and I’m glad for it. Even though childbirth went well, I’m still exhausted and in some pain, and it feels good to be cared for.
When we’re all finished eating, it’s time to feed the babies. I take them two at a time, su
rprised and mystified by how it feels. Everything about today is a miracle. I can’t believe this is the day I’ve looked ahead to with such trepidation and fear for so long. How could I have dreaded anything about this? How could I not have foreseen that this would be the best day of my life and the beginning of a whole new version of myself?
The usual pile of bodies into which we shape ourselves at night had loosened, gotten more spacious, as my pregnancy had gone on. We’d expanded our nest to accommodate my stomach. Now we expand one more time, leaving a small, protected space at the center of our huddle. It’s there that our babies sleep, nestled together in a pile themselves. We’ll hear them if they wake up in the night. We’ll be here if they need us. But they’ll also begin learning to rely on each other, right from the beginning, for warmth and comfort and safety. They are the next generation of Hell’s Bears, and as I close my eyes and let sleep sweep me away into dreams, I see a bright and beautiful future in which they will shift and run free and ride their bikes across the country, their hair blowing in the wind.
The End.
Preview of Omega’s Wolves
I looked over my shoulder, back toward the compound, knowing that if things went according to plan, I’d never lay eyes on that damn place again.
My heart raced, and hair matted to my forehead.
It’s now or never, I told myself.
And then, from the depths of the compound, I heard Brock’s roar. Nothing good ever followed that sound.
The time had come; I had to run.
Rain pelted my face as I took off, bolting toward the steel wire gate, which was at least six feet tall with deathly sharp points at the top. I steeled my thighs and leapt. In mid-air, I shifted, my bird-like bones elongating, my brown, unfussy hair becoming matted fur, my simple nails transforming into claws.
I was no longer woman; now, I was Wolf. And in Wolf form, I managed to clear the entirety of the fence, feeling only the barest of pinpricks from the deadly steel scrape against my underbelly.
My paws smacked down on the other side of the fence. I didn’t pause to celebrate my victory, to rejoice in the fact that this was my first time outside the compound in at least a year. There was no time. Brock knew I was gone, and his little army of fellow bear shifters would be after me within the minute. I’d celebrate when I was safe.
If I can ever be safe, I corrected myself mentally, never breaking my stride.
Where I was going, there was no guarantee things would be safe at all. In fact, I was taking a risk so stupid as to almost be lethal.
Because, despite every sound piece of advice I’d ever received, I’d decided to do the one thing a shifter never did.
I’d hired the Hell’s Wolves MC as protection.
And, if my timing was correct—and it was—I’d be meeting them at the nearest gas station, fifty miles from here, in the next five minutes. This would be an impossible feat for anyone who couldn’t move ten-mile a minute, but I was one of the fastest runners I’d ever met. Even as a Wolf, I was lithe, slippery. Members of my old pack used to joke that I was more fish than Wolf.
That had been when they were still talking to me, before I’d linked up with Brock and been abandoned by everyone else in my life. At the time, I had spat at them, insisted they didn’t know what they were saying.
Now ... now, I owed them all an apology.
If I made it out of this escape alive, that is.
The rain was growing ever thicker, the sky becoming the same stormy gray as my coat, with flashes of silver interspersed. That was some kind of small blessing. Hopefully, I’d be camouflaged by the storm.
There was a deep, ominous growl not far behind me.
My ears, sensitive to the faintest of noises, pricked up. The growl came again.
Brock.
He was on my tail, literally. I couldn’t turn around, but I knew that if I did, I’d see him in bear form, running on all fours, spit flecking from his jowls, his entire pack behind him, at least fifty men and women strong.
I increased my speed, pushing my body past its limits. I was running along a nearly abandoned highway, the only one in and out of the compound. The location had been selected based on the fact that no one could drive by the area accidentally; it wasn’t on any map still in existence. I’d need to cross sheer desert to get back to the minor freeway nearby, and from there, to the gas station.
The four-pronged cactus, the one the Wolves had told me to look for, appeared in my eye line. Our communication had been spotty, limited. Their only instruction: break through at the cactus. Keep running until you see the neon trident. We’ll be waiting.
I gulped, and pressed forward. This was my moment. Hopefully, Brock and crew wouldn’t be expecting this sharp veer into uncharted territory. Maybe, just maybe, it would give me the ground I needed to evade them.
My paws hit wet sand as I turned off the road and into the desert. Stones and even pieces of glass caught in between my pads, but pain was irrelevant; the fear of being caught was far more daunting than anything so minor as a cut.
Even through the thunder of the storm I could hear the growls behind me growing fainter. The bears were thicker, less agile. They could give chase all right, but that was only if they were going straight ahead and had the chance to pick up speed. If not, they were slowed down by their ungainly forms.
I had the advantage, and I took it. Darting through errant cacti and bounding over stones, I crossed the next thirty miles of sheer desert without issue. The bears were still somewhere behind me, but it was clear they were struggling to avoid all the obstacles the land erected.
Soon enough, I saw a faint, neon blue outline against the late afternoon sky. It stood out like fire from a gas stove, an unnatural cobalt.
My safe haven.
My heart threatened to thump out of my chest from exhaustion, but I couldn’t give up now, not when I was so close. I found a reservoir of strength I hadn’t even known I had and redoubled my pace.
You’re nearly there, I told myself. You’re almost free.
Suddenly, I was out of the desert, and onto a freeway. If there were cars in the distance, I didn’t see them; I had blinders on for everything, save that blue trident.
Now, somewhere in the mix between the growl of the bears and the clap of the thunder, I heard another noise; the distinct revving of engines.
My Wolf eyes were just able to make out, beneath the glowing trident, the shapes of several large figures beneath. God willing, that was them.
There was only five miles left now, but the going was faster out on the open road. As I closed in on the gas station, my eyes focused, and the shapes resolved into clear images.
Three men, each astride an enormous, black, shiny motorcycle, each poised, ready for battle, warriors in the storm. Were these the men with whom I was to entrust my safety? They seemed like they could be as much, if not more, of a threat than even Brock. Who was the lesser of the evils?
And then I heard Brock’s roar behind me once again. Goddammit, they’d cleared the desert and were making up for lost time on the concrete. I couldn’t rethink my decision, not now, not when I’d been planning this for months. Even though the Hell’s Wolves looked like they really were ripped straight from Dante’s Inferno.
I bounded toward the gas station, every collision of my paws on pavement a shock through the system. I would just barely have the strength to make it to the station. Though I’d been allowed to run within the compound, Brock had forbidden me from open land, for the obvious reason that it’d be harder for his guards to monitor me there. My limbs had grown weak with disuse, and I cursed his name for the millionth time.
No man would ever make me weak again.
The gas station was now just a few hundred feet from me, and over the gaining growl of Brock and his boys, I heard one of the men on motorcycles bellow, “Shift now, shift!”
I ignored him, and kept running. Brock would gain on me if I were in my human form for more than even a moment.
&
nbsp; But the voice was persistent.
“Shift. NOW,” it ordered.
My instincts screamed that this was a dangerous idea, that my Wolf form was the only means I had of defense.
However, I’d agreed to trust the Hell’s Wolves, however temporary that allegiance might end up being. And that meant playing along with their orders.
Reluctantly, and still at top speed, I shifted mid-air, fur rippling back down into smooth skin, hackles retreating. I hadn’t bothered to keep a spare pair of clothes on me, the way I normally would when I planned on shifting. It wasn’t as though I’d have time to stop and change in the bathroom.
So, that’s how I found myself, running naked, in the middle of a desert storm.
Brock was at my heels, the motorcycles in front. And without warning, the men on bikes revved their engines, and swooped toward me.
I was about to wonder what they were doing, what their big plan was, when one of them left, disappeared from my vision and—
A set of arms clasped around my bare waist. I screamed, a sound so piercing I couldn’t believe it’d come from my own throat. I thought I’d lost the ability to scream like that long ago.
My body was being lifted onto a bike, my legs forced to straddle a large leather seat. Strong thighs gripped behind me, protective arms caged around my own. I couldn’t turn around, I was too dazed, but I saw sizeable hands gripping handles in front of me.
On the middle finger of the left hand was a hefty, engraved silver ring.
In a looping scroll, it read: Hell’s Wolves MC.
That was my last memory before I saw an enormous bear throw itself in front of the bike, and I blacked out.
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