A Cursed Embrace

jaw. “No, I’m not human. But I also mean no harm.”

A pained grimace wrinkled the woman’s face. A contraction had begun. She curved into her belly, unable to speak and barely able to draw a breath. “How long has she been contracting like this?”

The wolf wouldn’t answer me.

“How long?” I insisted.

“Almost an hour.” The wolf backed away, moving protectively to her side. He muttered animal sounds I couldn’t comprehend, all the while keeping his attention on me. When the contraction faded, the were sniffed the air again. “You smell like a feline and a wolf at the same time. How is that possible?”

He continued to assert his dominance. His problem was, no way in hell would I allow myself to be dominated. “Let me help your wife, and then I’ll tell you about it.”

The wolf tensed further and took another step closer. My muscles tightened enough to tear from my bones. I watched his hands, his posture, and searched for any subtle twitches in his features. His next move would decide whether our beasts would clash. Or whether he’d submit and allow me to do my job.

The sour aroma of sweat and fear scratched at my nose. “Please, Papi,” his wife begged. “Don’t hurt her.”

The were finally nodded and ambled slowly to his wife’s opposite side as I advanced. I adjusted the woman’s monitor belts. To anyone entering the room, it appeared as if my full attention focused on her. That’s what separated preternaturals from humans. My tigress sensed any faint movement of air around us and searched for the burning smell of rising anger that would precede his onslaught. If he chose to attack me, I would be ready. Still, I needed to work fast and gain his trust.

I pulled the paper tracing from the monitor and held it out for the wolf and his wife to see. “Look. I want to show you how happy your baby is.”

He stalked around the bed slowly. His steps shuffled with hesitation and his breath had lowered to that carefully controlled breathing supernatural beasts practice to keep their wilder sides in check. He hadn’t decided yet whether he should kill me. Oh, goody.

He examined the paper and glanced up. I gave him, and my tigress, the courtesy of not meeting his eyes. He’d come to me like I’d asked, but his position remained protective. He angled his body so he stood between me and his wife, and so he could sense my movements.

I pointed to the lines on the paper. “You see all these jumps in the heart rate?”

He nodded. “Is that bad?”

“No, that shows me a healthy baby. Her contractions are three to five minutes apart. I think you’ll meet your baby within a few hours. I’d like to do a vaginal exam to be sure the head is down and that she’s dilating.”

Again, he nodded.

After I checked her, I explained my assessment. “Your wife is five centimeters dilated. The amniotic fluid is stained, so we’ll have to have the NICU staff present for the delivery.”

“Why so many people?”

“The baby had a bowel movement inside the bag of waters. Sometimes they can breathe it into their lungs. The NICU nurses will help clean out the airway to help prevent it from going into your baby’s lungs.”

The woman stroked her belly. “Will my baby be okay?”

“This is a common occurrence, and most babies do just fine. But we require additional staff in case there’s an issue.” I knelt before her and extended my hand, knowing better than to touch her directly in the presence of her husband. When her fingers touched my palm, I squeezed her hand gently. “I promise to take care of you and your baby.”

My explanation and the truth behind my simple gesture seemed to satisfy them both. “I’m Sandra.” The woman panted. “This is Miguel, my love.”

“And I’m Celia. Sorry about not introducing myself sooner.” I winked. “I was worried your husband would tear out my kidneys.”

Miguel dropped his eyes. “Sorry.”

When I returned from updating the doctor, I began to aid Sandra through her labor. “Here. Let me help you get on your hands and knees. It will give you some relief from your back pain.” I adjusted her in bed and covered her backside with a sheet.

Miguel stood on her opposite side, watching me with renewed curiosity. “Tell me about your scent.”

I rubbed Sandra’s back. Her contractions had intensified and they returned in shorter intervals. “I don’t think now is the best time.”

Sandra spoke between sharp intakes of breath. “No, please tell us. It’ll be a nice distraction.”

I braided Sandra’s long dark hair and swept it over her shoulder so the strands wouldn’t dangle in her face. I didn’t like talking about me but did so to help Sandra. “Well, okay. I’m a tigress.”

“But not were,” Miguel said.

I shook my head. “No. Definitely not were.”

“Then what?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Miguel.” Hell, we’d managed to bond, but we weren’t exactly buds.

Miguel motioned at me with his chin. “What about your other aroma?”

“My boyfriend is a werewolf. We live together.” My admission made me blush. While Aric and I hadn’t officially discussed it, or announced it, we did live together. Hunting evil expeditions aside, Aric and I were always together and hadn’t slept apart since the first night we made love.

Miguel frowned. “Is he a lone wolf?”

“No.”

“Are you mates?”

His question upset me, mostly because I wanted it to be true. “No. We’re not mates.”

Miguel and Sandra exchanged confused glances. Miguel leaned my way. “Then why do his Elders allow him with you?”

Allow? It was a strong word, and not one I completely comprehended. I answered as best I could. “I think Aric’s Leader status allows him more freedom.”

Sandra, who had saturated her gown with sweat, gawked at me like I’d asked for dibs on the placenta. “A Leader? The male who shares your bed is of pure blood?”

Many females believed the pains of childbirth granted the laboring woman the freedom to say whatever she wanted. Sandra, it appeared, was one of these gals.

Miguel’s suspicious frown returned. “Aric? You’re romantically involved with Aric Connor?”

Sandra was one centimeter shy of spitting out a human being. Yet I was the one growing increasingly uncomfortable. “Ah. Yes.”

Miguel took a deep breath, trying to sniff out what he pretty much perceived as a blatant lie. His aggressive demeanor turned to shock the moment my scent reached his nose. “You speak the truth.”

Sandra reached for Miguel’s hand, tears streaking her cheeks in tiny zigzags. “Miguel, the love of Aric Connor will deliver our baby.”

My voice cracked. “Um. I don’t think Aric would necessarily refer to me as his ‘love.’”

My statement had little effect on dissolving their obvious idolization of Aric. For the first time since we met, Miguel smiled.

Sandra, thank the Lord, started to grunt. “I think I have to push.”

I paged the doctor to the room. Twenty minutes later Sandra gave birth to her and Miguel’s first daughter.

I said a quick good-bye following the recovery and headed for the locker room. Sandra’s delivery had been the messiest of my career. So much pea-soup-colored amniotic fluid had spewed, I half expected Linda Blair to come crawling out of Sandra’s vagina. Our third-year resident physician had gagged, but at least when the baby came out, and Sandra hemorrhaged, he managed to keep it together. It didn’t matter that he threw up in the hall afterward; the important thing was mommy and baby were now fine.

Good grief. I examined my overly soiled scrubs. Sandra’s body fluids had seeped through the fabric. Rather than attempting to pull the top over my head, I tore them off and called it a day.