he wanted nothing to do with her, that was fine by him.
But tonight, it seemed like he was the only one home. Maybe Gwen was out running with Rifter—Vice had come in early, mainly to sleep so he could forget about brooding and worrying, because there was so much shit going on he couldn’t control or help with.
He missed Jinx. And Rogue. And Eydis. Had no idea how the hell they were going to deal with all of them. Was worried about Liam and the responsibilities the young king faced and, hell, Vice was charged with helping him.
When the hell had anyone decided putting him in charge of helping someone was a good idea?
Yeah, so much for sleeping off the worry. He definitely regretted coming home when he looked into the double-paned glass and saw Max doubled over. Between her legs was a puddle of water with some blood mixed in, so no, this wasn’t her faking to try to escape. This was the real thing, weeks overdue.
He stood there, watching for a few minutes. She hadn’t seen him, wasn’t really yelling for anyone in particular. She was just yelling because of the pain. Then she’d pace and double over again as another contraction hit her.
Having this baby signed her death warrant. He tried to muster up sympathy for her and failed. He’d save it all for the pup she carried.
And, it was for that pup that he unlocked the door and went to help her.
“Vice, the baby’s coming.”
“No shit.”
She ignored that, grabbed his arm and proceeded to attempt to crush it as she went through another contraction. When she finished, he managed to get her onto the bed, covered her up and noted that Gwen had already gotten a few things together for the baby.
He pulled out his phone and left Gwen a message. And Rifter. Stray and Killian too, for good measure, and the twins. Figured he’d keep Liam out of that loop, for obvious reasons.
“You’re going to have to hold out until Gwen gets here,” he told Max, who glared at him.
“This might be my first baby, but you and I both know you don’t tell a baby to stay inside.”
She looked tired. Defeated. She’d been locked in here for weeks, knowing there was no way out. She’d betrayed Liam in the worst way possible, and she’d have to pay.
“I came to terms with what’s going to happen to me weeks ago,” she told him now. “Please, just let me have the baby and then Liam can have his honor back.”
That was damned important to Vice for sure. But still, delivering a baby was not on his list of priorities or his bucket list. Ever.
“Baby!” Vice yelled in the loudest voice he could—Marine voice—but no one heard him. And Max was clawing at his arm, yelling her head off as well. “Wolves know how to do this instinctively, you know.”
“I’m not a wolf,” she bit out.
“No, you’re a traitor.” One Vice would never forgive for hurting Liam. This baby wasn’t Liam’s, would never be in line to be king. It might never even be accepted into a pack, forced to live out its days as a lone Were.
But he wouldn’t think about that now. Not when Max was delivering the goddamned baby as he watched. She’d gotten onto the floor, with towels under her and one over her legs. He guessed she was pretty much naked underneath and she lifted herself on her elbows and pushed. Vice had no choice but to throw the covers off her and see what was going on down there. And it wasn’t pretty.
“Holy hell—this could scar me for life,” he muttered. “I want to look away, but I can’t. This is just not right.”
“Bite me,” she spat.
“Not a goddamned chance.”
She screamed and then she pushed and Vice had no idea if that was the right thing or the wrong thing. He yelled for Gwen, for anyone, but no one came to help.
“I really need a smoke.” Desperately. He grabbed for a blanket and looked back again and saw that there was a baby coming out. Right now. No waiting.
“I’ll pay you to go back in until Gwen comes,” he told the head and Max glared at him. And obviously, the kid was ignoring his bribe and already refusing to obey and Vice sighed and then swore and resigned himself to this task.
He spread a blanket under her legs, called for Gwen again and was met with deafening silence.
“Okay, look, I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I’m just going to catch it when it comes out,” he told her and she screamed and bore down, grabbing his hand and possibly breaking bones as he put his other hand out to catch whatever came out.
But it wasn’t happening like that.
“Doesn’t this just kind of pop out?” he asked.
“No, that is not how this works,” Max said, near tears but obviously refusing to cry. He had to give her some credit—just a little—for what she was going through. “You have to guide him out or he won’t make it.”
Vice nodded, settled himself and when she pushed again, the kid’s shoulders were out and Vice was able to gently pull and help finish the birth.
“You have to clear his mouth,” Max said, showed him something she called an aspirator and told him how it worked. He did so and after a few seconds the kid yelled his head off. As he did so, Max cut the cord herself— she’d been prepared for this.
“This kid needs a bath,” Vice declared as he held it up to the light for further examination. The kid stopped yelling and just . . . watched him.
“Take him,” she said harshly. “I don’t want to see him. Take the goddamned thing out of here.”
It was similar to what his mother had told the servants when he was six, the first time his abilities had really come into play. Without another word, he cobbled the baby into the blanket, tucked it against him and walked out of the room.
It was hours of running in the woods but finally, Gwen seemed to have gotten Rifter to calm down to the point where he didn’t look like he wanted to kill everything in his path. Which was good for him, Vice supposed, as he remained on the couch, holding the sleeping baby.
He’d fed it. Changed it. Rocked it. And now he felt like a goddamned woman. Even checked a few times to make sure his dick was there.
“Something you want to tell us?” Rifter asked as Gwen said, “Max!”
“She’s downstairs, locked back up. I took the baby and left,” he explained but Gwen was already going to check on Max, calling, “I’ll be right back up to look at the baby.”
Because if Max died before Liam got to perform the ritual, it would mar his kingship. Many of the packs were waiting to give him their final approval to see how he dealt with this.
“Is it . . . healthy?” Rifter asked.
“Seems it to me.” Vice looked down at the sleeping bundle. “This place is getting crowded.”
“So you delivered this baby?” Rifter asked.
“Yeah, yeah, make your jokes,” Vice growled, but realized Rifter wasn’t making fun of him. Instead, the king looked at him with respect in his eyes. He swallowed hard and kept his eyes on the kid because he didn’t know what to say. He’d been the last person he’d thought who’d care for this kid, but hell, someone had to. For now.
Gwen came back in with another bottle of formula, said, “I gave her something to make her sleep. She’d cleaned herself up and she’s not talking.”
“She’s preparing to die,” Vice said. “That’s part of the ritual for the Weres. Twenty-four hours before it happens, you stop talking.”
“I’m going to have to check him out, okay?” Gwen asked.
“I think that’s best,” he told her, took the sleeping kid off his chest and gingerly handed him to her. But the second it lost contact with Vice, it howled. Turned purple and, dude, that was so not a good color on a pup. She handed it back to Vice and it stopped immediately.
“Oh, come on. You’re kidding me, right? I’m not the type for babies. I’m too X-rated.”
