Page 46 of Ruthlessly Mated (Shared Mates #2)

K ita

I go to see the doctor. It’s something to get me away from my mates and stops me from doing something I might regret at some point later on.

I know, deep down, that none of them are doing anything wrong, but every time they open their mouths I have the strangest impulse to rip their fucking throats out.

I am so upset with myself. I didn’t want to be as mean as I know I was, but I also couldn’t really help myself. I am just so angry.

“How are you feeling?” Mandy asks me the well-meaning question, and I do my level best not to freak out on her.

“I’m feeling like… I don’t know.”

“Any nausea?”

“Not really. I’m hungrier than I have ever been.”

“Any other unpleasant symptoms? Anything relating to mood?”

“I don’t think so.”

“No? Okay. Good for you.” She pauses for a moment. “It’s very important that you’re honest with me. I won’t judge you, but pregnancy can really knock you around sometimes. So if you are feeling more tender than usual, or angrier, that’s all normal, but something to keep an eye on.”

“Thank you. I will keep that in mind. Can I see them again?”

“Of course,” she smiles. “Sit up on the bed and we’ll have a look.”

I pull up my shirt and wait for the gel and the little wand and the view on the screen. For a horrible moment, I think I might not see them. What if something happened? What if they were never actually there at all? What if…

“There they are,” she says.

Two little dancing beans swim into view again, and I feel all my rage slide away. I’m not angry. I’m thrilled. I’m as happy as I’ve ever been. I look over my shoulder to see what Conroy and Damon and Tailor think—but then I realize they’re not here. I’ve come alone.

I guess I should tell them.

But I don’t know how.

It needs an announcement. And it needs me to not want to hit them with a hammer. And it needs to be nice and sweet. And it needs to be not totally fucking annoying. And it needs to…

The babies squirm around again and I forget about everything besides them.

Conroy

“Is she on drugs?”

The question escapes my mouth almost without passing through my mind.

It makes sense. People on drugs are often erratic.

They have trouble controlling their moods, especially when they are going through withdrawal.

Maybe that is how Kita has been handing the boredom of her incarceration, as she sees it.

“What? Why would you ask that?”

“It fits,” I say grimly. “We should check her room.”

We go up to the bedroom and start searching. It feels strange to be doing this, but there has to be some reason for her strange behavior. I have the feeling the answer is something simple, and once I discover it, I will wonder why the hell I didn’t know what it was right away.

There are no drugs in the nightstand, or in the pillows… she’s been eating toast in bed, but I don’t think that counts as actual drugs.

“What the hell is this?” Tailor sounds offended. Deeply so.

I turn around to see what he has discovered. It’s a pile of blankets, but it’s been packed into the closet, and they’ve been sort of swirled around. There’s fur on them.

“She’s been sleeping here. That’s why the bed is full of crumbs.”

There are crumbs here too. There are crumbs everywhere. Kita has never been super tidy, but she hasn’t been outright filthy before. This is strange.

Tailor looks at me. “Have we driven her insane?”

“I don’t think so. I think we need to talk to her.”

“She doesn’t talk to us anymore. I don’t know if she ever did.

We chase her around. We get into battles with supernatural evils.

We barely survive. This is the first time we’ve all been quiet together.

Maybe this is what she’s like. Maybe, when you strip away the endless chaos, she’s just a grumpy little crumb gremlin. ”

“No,” Tailor says. “There’s no possibility that my mate lives like this when left to her own devices. It’s not possible. Nature wouldn’t do that to me. The universe wouldn’t do that to me. This is impossible.”

He’s really freaking out over this blanket situation, which surprises me because blankets really are the very least of my worries. It’s just another piece of the very strange puzzle that we keep trying to put together when it comes to Kita.

“What are you doing in my room?”

Kita’s voice comes to us from the doorway. She looks pale, and a little glassy-eyed, as if she has been crying, or as if she wants to.

“It’s our room,” I remind her. “Or it used to be, before you kicked us all out.”

“Do you want ants, Kita? Because this is how you get ants. Also, what is this?” Tailor holds up handfuls of stuffing.

Their origin is a bit confusing before I sit down on the end of the bed and feel it practically disappear under me.

She’s torn a hole in the mattress and pulled all the interior out to put in her… nest?

Click. Click. Click.

It’s like tumblers falling into place all of a sudden, a lock I didn’t know I was picking finally snaps open.

“Oh, my.” I reach for her, pick her up, and hold her so carefully close. “Kita! Oh, my, Kita!”

“Let me go!” She squirms against me. “Put me down. What are you doing? Why are you picking me up like that? What’s going on?”

“You’re pregnant,” I say. “You’re going to have a baby!”

“I am not!” she denies hotly.

“Yes, you are. You’ve been moody, you’ve been ravenous, you’ve built a nest to give birth in—it all makes sense.”

“I’m not having a baby,” she insists furiously.

“I think you are, whether you know it or not.”

She kicks and pushes out of my arms and stands back, next to her nest, which suddenly looks like the most adorable collection of destroyed blankies and bedding I have ever seen.

“I’m not having a baby,” she says. “I’m having two.”

Kita

Conroy’s eyes widen, as do Tailor’s, and Damon scoots into the room so fast it’s almost like he just sprinted up the stairs after lurking at the front door with his insanely good hearing.

“Two babies?” Conroy repeats. “Two?”

“Yeah. Two. Beanie and Beanie. I gave them the same name because they look the same to me.”

Suddenly, it’s actually quite exciting for them to know.

I don’t know why I didn’t tell them right away.

I made this so difficult for everyone, including myself.

But I needed time to do what I needed to do.

To think. To make a nest. To eat toast. To turn into a psycho and bite Conroy.

These are probably all integral to the process of having babies. Who am I to question them?

“Alright, you need some fish oil,” Tailor says. “And vitamins.”

“Yes, and you need exercise, and…”

Oh, right. That’s why I didn’t tell them. They’re fussing over me instantly. Obsessively. They’re giving all the attention that makes me want to bite them. Or claw them. Either one would be fine.

“Get off me!” I snarl at all of them. “Stop touching me!”

They back off instantly. This is a new power I have, a sort of mom voice that seems to be emerging from me intermittently. I never used to be able to tell them what to do, but now, sometimes, they listen.

“Okay. Alright. What do you want?” Tailor asks, his hands held up in surrender.

“Cake. I want cake.”

“Alright. We’re getting cake.”

Damon is already gone on the quest for cake. Tailor is headed to the kitchen. Conroy remains, shaking his head in front of me with a big smile on his face, the kind of smile that changes his face entirely.

“You’re happy?” I venture the question.

“Yes. I’m so happy. This is everything I ever wanted. Everything we all ever wanted. You’re going to be such a good mother.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

I feel a swath of guilt running over me. I know I’ve been hell to live with. I know I’ve been kind of crazy in some ways. It’s been hard to adjust, and my instincts make me want to do animal things, like build nests and sleep in them.

“I’ve been acting crazy. What if I’m a crazy mother? What if I only eat cake and attract evil vampires?”

“You can eat whatever the hell you want, and no evil vampires are going to come anywhere near you ever again.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes. I can. You think we have been doing nothing all this time?”

“You’ve been putting the port back together, haven’t you?”

“Yes. But that’s not all we have been doing. We’ve been ensuring an ongoing income, a safe home, and destroying threats. Eradicating vampires. Ensuring that nobody fucking dares to suck blood within a hundred miles of this place.”

“When were you destroying threats?” I cock my head to the side. “I would have wanted to destroy threats.”

“Well, you were eating cake mostly. And destroying the furniture.”

“I’m sorry. It just felt right.”

“To rip open the bed?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m glad you did it,” he says simply. “Can I hug you, or are you going to bite me if I try?”

“You can hug me,” I smile.

He draws me into a deep, loving embrace, and I feel his care rushing through me.

“I am going to look after you, no matter what,” he says. “And you are going to be safe. Trust me.”

I’ve never trusted anybody, but in this moment, hearing those words, something in me tells me that I can trust him. He means it. This is going to be safe. I am going to be okay.