Owned by the Alphas: Winterborn
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Jen Cooper
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The Birth
PEARL
“Push!” The nurse’s command echoed in my ears. I was pushing, wasn’t I? I clutched her hand, squeezing it as I strained. My legs were spread wide on the bed, the pristine white sheets now marred with blood.
Yet, my baby was still not cradled in my arms.
Days of relentless pain had passed. A pain so intense it made me question my ability to endure. But I had no choice. My child needed to be born. The moment I discovered I was pregnant, my life’s purpose had shifted.
Even though my baby had chosen to arrive early.
Too early.
In the dead of winter.
A groan escaped my lips as another contraction racked my weary body. The pain peaked, and I screamed, pushing as my body instinctively worked to bring my child into the world.
I pushed and pushed, sweat trickling down my forehead, my body trembling.
The village midwife was positioned between my legs, monitoring the progress. I saw her shake her head at the doctor who was forbidden to touch me—my husband’s orders.
My husband wasn’t present yet, but I knew he would arrive any moment. He was as eager as I was to welcome our child. Our heir.
His excitement had been palpable, until I informed him I was in labor. I hadn’t seen him since. His absence worried me, but the pain of childbirth left little room for anything else.
The experience was agonizing, but it was a pain I had to endure.
“Pearl, I need you to push harder. Your baby is right there. You can do it,” the midwife, Camilla, encouraged in her firm voice.
I was exhausted. Sore. But I knew I could do it.
So I did.
I pushed with all my might until I felt the pressure release, my baby sliding out of me.
“Is it a boy?” the doctor inquired.
“A girl, a beautiful baby girl,” Camilla announced, placing her on my damp chest. Unbidden tears welled up in my eyes as I held my precious little girl. She was tiny but alert and healthy. She hadn’t even cried. Her eyes, a deep navy blue, stared back at me. She was perfect.
And winterborn.
“I will inform General Mordechai,” the doctor declared.
I was about to protest, but a sharp pain in my stomach cut me off.
My daughter cried out, startled by my cry of pain. I tried to soothe her, but the pain was twisting inside me, the urge to push again making my jaw clench and my legs tremble.
“Wait, Doctor Shaan. There is another,” Camilla gasped.
The doctor echoed her surprise. “Another winterborn?” His eyes widened in horror. I didn’t have time to be scared. I pushed and pushed again.
Iris, the woman who helped me in the village gardens, tried to take my daughter from my arms to give me more freedom to move and push, but I pulled her back. I didn’t trust anyone with my daughter. She was a winterborn, and even in my pain, I understood the implications.
Then another cry joined mine. A tiny, gurgling cry from my secondborn.
“A boy!” the doctor gasped. “Oh. The general must hear of this!” Dr. Shaan rushed out of the room as I expelled a heavy breath. I looked down at my daughter.
I hadn’t thought of a name for a girl. Mordechai had insisted we only consider boys’ names, to manifest our desires. I didn’t mind the gender, but he was fixated on having heirs.
Camilla handed me my son, swaddled in a blanket. I looked at them both. They were so alike. But my daughter had a softness to her face that my son lacked.
I couldn’t believe I had done it. I had given birth to them both, and now that they were here, I was in love. A love so deep and unconditional, it was unbreakable.
I felt an instant connection, just as my mother had said I would.
They were my world, my heart.
Camilla moved back between my legs, still attending to me after the messy birth when my husband, Mordechai Valarian, entered the room. He straightened his general’s uniform and looked at me with a grimace. Then his gaze fell on the children on my chest.
“Which one is the boy?”
I showed him his son, and he inspected him.
Mordechai’s jaw clenched, and he cleared his throat.
“Clear the room,” he ordered.
“Sir, your wife needs—”
“I need a minute with my wife. Clear the room.”
Camilla hesitated before sighing and leaving with the others.
Mordechai sat down on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t even asked to hold them yet.
My stomach churned at the dismissive look he gave them. The anger that flashed in his eyes.
“Did you lay with another man?” he asked calmly.
I frowned at his question. I had never been unfaithful. I would never. “No, of course not,” I assured him.
“And yet we have twins. Winterborn twins.”
“A blessing, Mordechai. A true blessing,” I said, smiling down at them.
“The village is not happy, Pearl. Winterborns are a curse on us and our accord with the wolves. They will come for them,” he warned. I had been worried about that too. But not if they didn’t know about them.
“So don’t record their births for the winter. They’re our children, Mordechai. We must protect them now,” I whispered, kissing their foreheads.
My daughter looked up at me, her eyes so wide. She looked so innocent, it broke my heart already to think of the life she was going to live in the village being who she was. But she would get through it. I would make sure of it. She would be strong.
So would her brother. We had to do that for them.
“I will discuss what to do from here with the mayors and we will make a plan,” Mordechai said, leaning in to kiss my forehead. I smiled up at him and he held out his arms.
He took our son from me. “I will take the twins out for now and you can rest. You need to heal,” he said.
I shot up, pain shooting up my legs but I ignored it.
“I would like to spend more time with them first,” I pleaded, but Mordechai shook his head.
“No, Pearl. I will send Camilla back in to make you presentable and then get some rest. I will show the twins to the village, announce the healthy birth of our son and daughter, okay?” he suggested, his voice soothing.
I smiled, feeling a little weak. I was tired. So I nodded, handing him our daughter too. They were both so tiny. It was a miracle they were so healthy.
Mordechai was about to leave when I stopped him. “Wait, their names,” I said.
He looked down at them and nodded to our son. “He will be Lucas. After my father,” Mordechai said. He had always wanted that name for our son so I nodded.
“And our daughter, Lorelai,” I whispered, looking at her. She had the same thoughtful expression my grandmother used to have. An innocent face with a fire behind it.
Mordechai simply nodded and left the room.
A moment later, Camilla rushed in to finish cleaning me up.
She brewed me some tea, and I frowned at the unfamiliar smell.
“This smells different, we’re not using the chamomile?” I asked.
She shook her head, avoiding my gaze, continuing to change my sheets as I sat at the edge of the bed after bathing.
I took a cautious sip of the tea, not minding the taste.
I was only three sips in when I started to feel drowsy. A moment later, I was asleep, not realizing that the birth would take such an immediate toll on my energy.
