Her Chosen Mate

Part 7

(POV - Marcus)

In his short twenty-one years of life, Marcus had never known fear.

Not the sort of fear that stole the air from his lungs, nor the kind that threatened to bow his spine into submission.

He'd been a proud Alpha who bore the weight of his pack's fears and threw aside his own.

But pacing just outside his bedroom door, hands opening and closing at his sides in useless frustration while his mate gave birth behind that door, had true fear rippling down his spine, ice cold.

Helena had been shut away behind the deep emerald wood of their bedroom door for what felt like hours, and he was beginning to panic. Nurses passed him, leaving the room with blood-soaked towels and returning with fresh white ones again and again.

Surely there wasn't supposed to be that much blood?

The air was thick with it, that metallic tang heavy on his tongue,making him bristle because that was his mate's blood, his mate who was crying out in agony.

Another round of nurses left the room, the blood soaking the towels in their hands, so much darker this time. His lungs squeezed as he watched them disappear down the stairs, the hairs on the back of his neck standing.

Something wasn't right.

Beneath the scent of his mate that he'd be able to find in a snowstorm was the clear, rotten smell of distress.

Without another thought, he barged into the room, the other wolves cowering at the weight of the emotion he carried in with him. He knew they'd smell his fear, his frustration and guilt, but he didn't care.

He only cared about Helena and their pup.

She lay on the bed, a sheen of sweat coating her entire body, chest heaving with exhaustion.

Her rounded belly heaved too, and Marcus had to restrain himself from gathering her in his arms and crushing her to his chest.

"My love," he rasped, kneeling beside her. Her brow furrowed in pain, eyes squeezed shut as another wave of contractions tore through her body. She blindly reached for his hand and he offered it readily, letting her grab onto his fingers until he lost feeling in his hand.

"Marcus," she panted, her voice faint. Marcus pressed his nose to her cheek, scenting her in the hopes that it would help calm her down. "He's being a little stubborn."

With a frown, Marcus rested the palm of his hand on the round of her belly, where her hand soon joined his. Their fingers laced, Marcus pressed a kiss to her temple.

"My son," he said softly, eyes on their linked hands. "Don't give your mother so much trouble. She's been through enough already."

"Who knew he'd be just as stubborn as you?" Helena joked, hissing at another contraction.

"He'll be every inch the Alpha everyone will love," Marcus said, resting his head on the pillow beside hers. "A heart like his mother's even if he is as stubborn as his father."

He tried to ignore the smell of blood, catching as more nurses ran out with blood-soaked towels in their hands.

It was too much blood.

But she seemed fine. Only her face had paled, but that could have been the pain and shock of labor. As a first-time mother, it could have also been the very same fear that dogged Marcus's steps.

"I could use just a little less stubborn and a little more eagerness," Helena gasped, her spine bowing in agony. Her caramel hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, and Marcus grabbed for a cool, damp cloth to gently wipe her face.

"You're the strongest wolf I know," he said quietly, speaking so only she would hear him. She leaned into his touch, the cloth no doubt feeling like a breath of fresh air against her feverish skin. "Only you can make childbirth look this good."

She rolled her eyes at him but chuckled anyway, the sound tired and raw from hours of screaming.

"Only you would find me attractive like this," she countered. Her face paled again, and she was whiter than paper.

"You're attractive no matter what you do, my love," he said, trying desperately to calm the raging fear in his mind. She'd lost so much color, so much blood. Her lips had turned a chalky white, and it scared him more than he'd ever admit.

The faint thud of urgent footsteps drew his attention just then, his head turning to the door just as Jaden burst in. He kept his head down respectfully, but Marcus recognized the tension in his coiled shoulders. Marcus looked from his Beta to his mate, swallowing the hard lump in his throat.

"Jaden, what's going on?"

His head of golden-brown curls stayed bowed, shaking slightly before he answered, "We've identified a rogue pack, Marc. At least fifty strong, headed straight for us."

Marcus was standing in a heartbeat, angling himself between his vulnerable mate and any attack.

"How did they get past the border patrol?"

Jaden was breathing hard, like he'd run all the way to Marcus from the border himself.

"They killed the patrol," he reported, trying not to show just how much it affected him, but Marcus knew him far too well. He knew every single one of Jaden's little giveaways, especially when he was trying to hide emotion.

"They killed all of them?" Marcus pushed. His heart thudded in his chest. He'd had five of his best wolves running that patrol, especially since Helena had gone into labor. Five of his strongest warriors, who had barely made it past twenty. Dead.