Page 51 of Keeping His Mate
Through her tears, I see Chloe’s eyes dart around the room and land on the tiny squealing baby in my arms. Her tears stop as the corners of her mouth turn up into a slight smile.
The baby continues to wiggle and cry as the vibe in the room remains frantic. It’s scary, holding this child in my arms and trying to comfort it as I clean its pale, slightly golden skin, not knowing if Chloe is going to pull through this. She has to. This gorgeous bundle in my arms needs her guidance, her strength, her warmth. This world needs Chloe in it, as much as her child does.
Several minutes pass, and Jo continues to whisper into Chloe’s ear as she keeps her gaze locked on her daughter. Whatever Jo is saying, coupled with the sight of her child, seems to be keeping her somewhat calm.
Once she has the placenta in her hands, Kaiva places the large, pinkish-gray blob onto a metal tray beside Chloe. Then she sews and cleans and snips and cleans until finally, she says, “There. The bleeding has ceased.”
“Oh, thank fuck,” Kate says with a loud sigh.
Varrek and Chloe look at each other and also let out deep breaths, and Varrek kisses her palm as he whispers, “My light. My everything.”
Ava gives me a single nod, and I know that means I’m cleared to return Chloe’s daughter to her. The baby continues to burble and squeal as I place her against her mother’s chest, and Chloe goes back to crying, but this time, I’m certain they’re tears of joy.
Kaiva removes the gloves from her hands and comes to stand at Chloe’s side. “She is stunning. Truly. Just like her mother.”
“Absolutely perfect,” Varrek adds.
Ava leans in next to Kaiva and clears her throat. “Have we decided on a name yet?”
Chloe and Varrek exchange a look, then Chloe says, “Yes, Vahla. After his mother.”
Kaiva sucks in a breath, her hand covering her heart. “Lovely. Just lovely.”
And just like that, the first human-Trovilian baby has entered the world.
CHAPTER 22
BRUVIX
“She is too small,” I tell my cousin as I look down at his daughter. “I should not be holding such a delicate thing. I will break her.” I try handing her back to him, but he refuses.
“I trust you, Bruvix,” he says with a warm grin. “You are doing a splendid job thus far.”
I grunt in response. Sure, I have not dropped her...yet. Or scratched her light golden skin with my claws, but it seems only a matter of time. She is too fragile. Too...pure for a large, gangly oaf like me to hold.
Varrek shushes my grunt and points to the center of Kaiva’s med room where Cloh-ee is fast asleep.
“How long must she recover here?” I ask.
Varrek scratches his chin. “Another day. Kaiva was worried Cloh-ee would tear her stitches if we left only a day after the birth. So she must rest here until tomorrow.”
Little Vahla squirms in my arms as a bubble of spit forms between her lips and then pops as she begins to cry. “Oh no,” I mutter under my breath. Then I rock her slowly from side to side as I hold her closer to my body. “Shh, little one,” I tell her. “I am your family. Your clan.”
“Ooh, is that my squishy little niece?” Aye-vah coos as she and Ahlvo quietly enter. She sticks her arms out and I place Vahla in them, relieved that I did not drop her. Then Aye-vah hands her over to Ahlvo, who twists his face into strange shapes and makes low-pitched, comical noises at her.
“How’s Chlo doing this morning?” Aye-vah asks Varrek.
He looks at his sleeping mate, and his eyes gloss over with adoration. “She is quite tired this day. She has successfully gotten Vahla to latch, but only once.”
“Latch?” I ask, confused by the term.
“Breastfeed,” Aye-vah translates. “I’ll wake her in a bit so she can try again,” she says to Varrek.
Vahla begins to cry, and Cloh-ee wakes immediately. “Oh, hey, guys,” she says through a yawn. Aye-vah hands Vahla to her mother, and she pulls down the neck of her tunic, pressing Vahla’s mouth to her nipple.
It takes a few moments, and a slight adjustment of Cloh-ee’s breast, but soon, Vahla is feeding and Cloh-ee and Varrek are beaming with pride as they look upon their daughter. I feel envy, thick and unyielding, pump through my veins at the sight. This… this is what I wish to have with Elle-noor. Not the child, necessarily, if the concept of motherhood does not interest her, but the level of intimacy and trust that no others can touch. The deep bond we feel down to our marrow that puts us in our own world, leaving others to watch us from the outside.
I believed we were building such, but that was before the tr’gory attack.