J.R. Ward - The Shadows

“And they’re both perfectly healthy,” Doc Jane added. “One is significantly smaller, and its development has been delayed, but it appears viable. I didn’t catch the second fetus during your previous ultrasounds because I understand—from a consult with Havers—that vampire pregnancies are different from humans’. There was apparently another fertilized egg that had implanted but did not enter a significant embryogenesis stage until much later—your last ultrasound was two months ago, for example, and I did not see anything at that time.”

“Twins?” Layla choked out.

“Twins,” one of the three replied.

For some reason, she thought back to the moment when she’d found out she had, in fact, conceived. Even though pregnancy had been the goal, and she and Qhuinn had done what they’d had to do to get there, the news that the needing had been successful had been the kind that stunned. It just seemed so miraculous, and overwhelming—a joyous gauntlet that she was not entirely sure wouldn’t get the best of her.

This was the same.

Except without the joy.

She had known two of her sisters to carry twins, and one of the pregnancies had been lost. The other had resulted in only a single, living young.

Tears started to fall from her eyes.

This was not good news.

“Hey.” Blay leaned down with a handkerchief. “This is not bad. It’s not.”

Qhuinn nodded, although his face remained a mask. “It’s . . . unexpected. But not at all bad.”

Layla put her hands to her stomach. Two. There were two young that she now had to get over the ultimate finish line safely.

Two.

Dearest Virgin Scribe, how had this happened? What was she going to do?

As the questions ran through her head, she realized . . . well, hell. Like so much of life, this was out of her hands. An impossibility had become manifest—her job now was to do what she could to help herself and the young get the rest, nutrition and medical care that was required.

That was the only thing she could directly affect. The rest of it?

Up to fate alone.

“Could there be others?” Layla asked.

Doc Jane shrugged. “I believe that is highly unlikely, but I’d like to send a sample of your blood off to Havers. He has much more experience than I do in this, and after having a look at a vampire-specific pregnancy hormone, he believes he can take a good guess as to where you’re at. He did say, though, that triplets are virtually unheard-of, and yours is the typical course of multiples for females. If they are going to have twins, unless in the extremely rare case of identical twins such as Z and Phury, the second embryo will delay its development until the pregnancy is well along. Almost as if it is waiting to see whether things look good before deciding to join the party.”

Layla glanced down at her distended belly—and vowed never, ever to complain about a goddamn thing. Not the swollen ankles, or the over-sensitive, pendulous breasts, or the peeing every ten minutes. Not. One. More. Whinge.

Ever.

The fact that she’d somehow lost consciousness, fallen face-first on a marble floor, and still managed to have this young—

These young, she corrected with a shock.

—in her body safely was a reminder that the aches and discomforts were minor in comparison to the big picture, the big goal, the big concern.

Which was birthing them at the right time and having them survive.

“So do you consent?” Doc Jane asked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Is it okay to send a sample of your blood to Havers for analysis?”

“Oh, yes.” She extended her good arm. “Do it now—”

“No, we took the vial already.”

Ah. Which would explain the cotton ball taped to the inside of her elbow.

Her brain was not working right.

“Is that the reason she passed out?” Qhuinn asked. “The extra young?”

Doc Jane shrugged again. “Her vitals all look fine—and they’ve been stable for quite some time. When was the last time you fed, Layla?”

The problem was not whether she’d taken a vein lately. “I . . .”

“We’ll deal with that right now,” Qhuinn announced. “Blay and I will both give her our veins.”

Doc Jane nodded. “It would be logical that, with the second baby beginning to require more nourishment, your caloric and blood needs may be much greater than you’ve realized. I think it’s entirely possible you were pushing yourself and it caught up with you.”

Layla felt utterly numb and had to force a smile. “I’ll be more careful. And thank you. I really appreciate your caring for me.”

“You’re welcome.” Doc Jane gave Layla’s foot a squeeze through the light blankets. “Rest up. You’re going to do great.”

As the healer left, Layla thought about the strange sexual cravings that she’d been having lately, as well as the relatively sudden increase in her physical symptoms. Was it the second young—?

“Do you want something more comfortable than that?” Qhuinn asked.

She shook herself back into focus. “I’m sorry, more comfortable than . . . ?”

“That hospital johnny.”

Glancing down at herself, she saw that she wasn’t in her clothes anymore. “Oh. Well. Actually, it’s a bit chilly down here. One of my robes would be nice, but I don’t want to trouble you.”

“No problem. I’ll take your things back to your room and pick up a nightgown and a robe—meanwhile, Blay, you wanna offer her your vein?”

By way of answer, the soldier’s wrist appeared right in front of her. “Take as much as you need.”

In that moment, she had an overwhelming urge to tell them. Come clean. Wipe out the stress of the last year no matter the repercussions.

She just wanted to be free of the terrible burden that weighed her down. Scared her.

Tantalized her.

No doubt that would improve the chances of her carrying the young better—less stress was good for pregnant females, right? And now there were two lives at risk as well as her own.

“Layla?”

She swallowed hard. Looked up at the pair of them as they stood over her bed, concerned. She didn’t want to betray the only family she had ever had. Besides, maybe if she told them about Xcor, they could . . . make the compound safer. Or move everyone. Or . . .

Layla cleared her throat and gripped the covers on the bed as if they were a roll bar and she was about to go into a hairpin turn. “Listen, I need to . . .”

When she didn’t finish, Qhuinn jumped into the quiet. “You need to feed. That’s what you need to do.”

As if her fangs were listening, they punched out from the roof of her mouth, and she got in touch with the fact that, yes, she did need to take a vein.

And no, she really couldn’t tell them. She just . . . it was no good. There was no good solution for her. They would hate her for endangering herself and the pregnancy—and meanwhile, Xcor would still know where they all lived because the Brotherhood was never going to leave the compound. This was their home and they would defend it when he attacked after she stopped seeing him.

People would be killed. People she loved.

Shit.

“Thank you,” she said roughly to Blay.

“Anything for you,” he replied, brushing her hair back.

She tried to strike as gently as she could, but Blay didn’t even flinch. Then again, when he and Qhuinn made love, he was no doubt used to much, much harder bites.

Just as she began to draw against the familiar source, taking in the nutrition her body required and could get only from this gift by a male of her species, Qhuinn went over to where her clothes had been put on a chair in the corner. As he took them into his hands, he frowned and glanced down. Then rifled through the folds like he was searching for something.