The bottle dropped from his limp fingers, fizzing into the grass.
Ren lay with her head on Munro’s chest, still levitating from his lovemaking. Though they usually talked afterward, tonight her Lykae hearing detected that he was grinding his teeth. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
He sat up beside her. “Two is too many. You will lose yourself.”
“I told you I’ll get a c-section. I’ll never go into labor.”
“I canna stand the idea of your getting cut!”
She rose to a sitting position as well. “If mortals can do it, I can. Females handle the toughest stuff all the time anyway. You’ll see.” He still looked resistant. “Munro, you’re going to have to accept that some things are out of your control now.”
“Some things?” he bit out, aggression radiating from him. “How about every feeling in me? Every bloody thought. I have zero control!”
She cradled his face with her hands. “My poor wolf, so much worry.”
His aggression dwindled. “I never knew fear like I do over you.”
“We will get through it,” she promised him. “I’m determined.”
“When will you have the surgery? We have to time this right.”
“Every day helps with the babes’ development, so we need to go as late as possible. Maybe a week or two before my due date.”
“What about the doctor? He must be phenomenal.”
“She,” Ren corrected him, “comes highly recommended. Dr. Deerborne’s a deer shifter with a practice in New Orleans. Loa said she’s delivered Lorean babies for four hundred years.”
“Four centuries, then?” Munro said casually, but Ren could tell that fact reassured him.
“I telechatted with her. She was surprised to hear from a Lykae—apparently, the Instinct is the ideal physician, telling females exactly what they need to do. But after I explained our situation, she agreed to do house calls and set up a surgical suite here for the big day. I watched the operation online. All it takes is a little incision right here.” Ren drew her finger across her lower belly.
He reached for her. “I canna remember the last time I was so fearful. If the babes hurt you . . .”
“They won’t. Munro, I’m asking you to trust my judgment in this.”
After an audible swallow, he said, “Then I will. You’ve told me this will be okay. So I’m going to believe you.”
“I’ll contact Deshazior and have him on call to trace the doctor here.”
Munro sighed. “Is this the future? Demons tracing us wherever we want to go and witches providing all our technology?” He still grumbled each time he used his Wicca-tech phone, but everyone in the pack had one.
“You’re asking me if this is the future?” She lay down again, and a yawn escaped her.
“My she-wolf yawns like a wee kitten,” he said, his golden eyes filled with love. “I’ll handle Desh and work out everything with the doc. You just concentrate on growing that babe. Babes.” He rested his head against her belly, telling the twins, “You two pups must behave in your den. . . .” He trailed off. Then he lifted his head, a dumbfounded look on his face.
“What?” She’d been able to perceive the slightest movements and sounds from the babies, and with his age, Munro had even stronger senses than hers. What had he detected?
He collapsed back on the bed, limbs spread. “They’re both lads.” His voice grew rough. “Like me and Will.”
SIXTY-FOUR
months later
“If I forget to tell you, I’m glad you’re on the front line with me,” Munro said to Will as they eyed the carnage spread out before them.
“Always, bràthair. But if we work together, we can make it through this.”
Munro shook his head. “I have doubts. I canna see an end to this nightmare.”
“Once we slay the first one, the next will go down easier.”
Munro turned the crib-assembly directions upside down, then right side up. “Now they’re just fucking with us.”
Kereny’s raucous babies shower had netted them tons of supplies to fill the newly decorated nursery in the lodge. Among them, they’d received two car seats and a pair of cribs; the former needed installation and the latter assembly.
Parts littered the floor. Will said, “Mayhap we should no’ have used our claws in the beginning?”
“Aye. But failure is no’ an option here tonight.” The laddies were arriving in just fourteen days.
Munro had worked out the logistics for Kereny’s labor—the operating room was set up to the doc’s specs, and Deshazior was on call—but the cribs . . . “I need to have all of this stuff done before she wakes.” Kereny required ever more rest and would sleep like a hibernating bear.
As another young immortal, Chloe too slept more than Will. So Munro and his twin had spent a lot of time together talking—as they hadn’t since tragedy had marked their young lives.
Over these past months, Munro had grown much more at ease with his twin. Will, in turn, was growing more at ease with everything.
“How about this?” Will connected one random piece of the crib to another, and the match looked promising.
“It’s a start.”
As they worked, Will asked, “Any ideas about names?”
“Nay. Lady’s choice on that. She said she’d know when she saw the babes together.”
Will grinned. “I still canna believe you’re having twin lads. Remember that time you and I let the herd of sheep into the house?”
“Aye. Mam told us she wished twin boys on us. And here we are.”
Over all these ages, Munro and Will had rarely spoken of their mother. The subject had only dredged up pain in his twin, so neither brother ever brought her up. This must be another sign that Will had come to terms with the past.
“If I’m this excited about my nephews”—Will slapped Munro on the back—“you should be over the moon.”
I’m trying to be. I want to be. “I’ll be more excited once Jels is defeated.”
After Munro and Will’s first frustrating skirmish with the archwarlock, they’d continued to get leads on his whereabouts. Diligence demanded that the brothers track down each one. Yet Munro got the sense that Jels was testing them or keeping them busy while he planned something bigger.