Chapter 9: False Labor

He knelt on the floor by the bed and put both hands on my belly.

"Look at me," he said. "Not at the clock. At me."

I looked at him.

"Is she coming?"

"I don't know yet. Breathe out. Longer than that."

I breathed out.

The tightening came again. Ten minutes.

Emmett didn't take his hands away.

I felt his wolf come up under his palms, warm and steady, and press down.

"If she comes tonight," I said, "she comes without a wolf."

"I know."

"The Renderer said..."

"I heard what she said. She's a liar with a knife. Breathe."

There was a knock, and my father put his head in.

He took one look at my face and went white under his beard.

"What do you need?"

"Hot water bottles," Emmett said. "Three. And the quilt off the couch. And you, outside this door, all night."

"Outside?"

"She needs quiet and you're loud."

My father looked at him. Then he nodded and went.

A minute later, I heard the hall floor creak as he sat down with his back against my door.

Dagny brought the water bottles and a kitchen timer.

She sat in the corner with her notebook and wrote down every pain.

11:14. 11:24. 11:33.

"You're writing down my contractions?"

"I'm writing down everything," she said. "Don't make me say it every day of your life."

Emmett packed the hot water bottles against my lower back.

He mixed something from his bag into a cup of tea that tasted like hay and licorice.

"Drink it all."

"It's disgusting."

"It's medicine. Medicine's supposed to be disgusting. That's how you know."

Then he put his hands back.

Around one in the morning, the pains started to spread out.

Keep reading free with an account. Start They Cut Out My Wolf. My Father Hunts Wolves. from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.