The Mates of Monsters
Chapter 69

Part 3

"Good morning, dear. How was your sleep?"

"It's was fine," I tell Helena as I enter the kitchen, clad in a robe and shrugging off the mental residue of lovemaking. "Did David get something to eat before he left?"

"He did," she assures me. "And I've got some stuff for you as well; the things we talked about yesterday."

Yesterday I told Helena that I may be pregnant soon. I couldn't help myself, with all that's been happening, it wouldn't be a complete surprise. I sit at the counter island as she displays some pregnancy-related goods in front of me.

"I've got the teas, the salve, and I even found the necklace I told you about." She holds up a dainty metal chain with a fertility goddess charm in its center. "Now you be careful with teas-only drink what I give you. Not everything is safe for the baby." "There isn't necessarily a baby, Helena. I said there might be."

She comes around the counter and secures the necklace around my neck. I rub the pendant between my fingertips; the upper body of a woman whose arms hold her big, round belly. Her stomach is carved with some old symbol. "Only take this off when you sleep," she instructs, ignoring my previous comment.

"Did you say anything to David this morning?"

"You asked me not to, so I didn't," she says and begins preparing what I can only deem to be a nutritiously balanced breakfast. "But I don't know why he wouldn't want to talk about it. I'm sure he's excited."

I pick up the jar of salve and twist the lid open, sniffing its potent herbal scent. "I would say he's more nervous than excited. You know how he is. He thinks being pregnant will drain my life force and mummify me."

Our situation has been somewhat complicated ever since we've taken our bond to the next level.

Every night, every morning even during the day he comes home and throws out some issue we need to discuss so I can excuse myself from Helena or Jeremy. Upstairs, downstairs. Inside, outside. We're no better than animals, losing ourselves to the beasts within and feeding the flame of the bond. It's like the bond tortures us for being apart-shows us just how satisfying mating is, how much better it feels to be entwined with each other, no boundaries. And these primal urges have rejected the precautions more than David would like. And David is starting to worry. Like those addicted to other things, there will be consequences.

He monitors me; how I'm feeling, how I'm eating, asking about my cycle. I have nothing to tell him other than the fact that I'm fine. Everything feels normal other than the symptoms of being in constant heat.

I've become so tuned in on his body that the mere smell of him triggers me.

"Once he sees how well you do, he'll begin to relax."

"With all of this stuff, how could I possibly do badly," I say and secure the lid back onto the thick, homemade mixture. "But, as I said, there is no definite baby. There's a maybe baby."

"A maybe baby is good enough for me."

"I know that David's mother had a difficult time getting pregnant. I could be the same way; no one knows. I could have a maybe baby for years, so right now I'll just wait for my time of the month, and if it comes it comes, and if it doesn't, it doesn't. No pressure. No expectations."

Helena nods. "Good. Hopefully, that also means less stress."

Her positive attitude is a breath of fresh air. It contrasts so heavily with David's anxiety that I find myself caught between two worlds. When he's gone, I'm becoming hopeful and enjoying Helena's motherly wisdom, but when he's home, I'm crying out beneath him or on top of him or against the wall, and then I'm ashamed for hoping because David's wants are still unclear.

"Is Jeremy coming by today?"

"No. He said he'll see me tomorrow, though." I theorize, "Maybe he's sorting out his new posting at his next pack. After all, he said he would be leaving me when we return from Germany."

"You've been doing quite well, haven't you? I suppose you no longer need his guidance."

"I know. I guess I'll just miss having him around. He's more than my mentor. He's my friend."

She grins. "He'll just have to visit then, won't he?"

"Speaking of visits," I stretch my neck, "Bonny said she should be arriving next week. She's decided to travel to Germany with us rather than meeting us there. I suppose it will give us plenty of time to work through our plans together before the meeting. I still have to polish up the speech as well." I sigh and lean on the countertop. "David is fine with you going? I only ask because, well, circumstances have changed haven't they?"

"We haven't talked about it much, but I'm sure he knows that nothing will stop me from going."

Helena puts together a lovely plate, and she watches as I eat every last bit of it. She tells stories of ancient women.

"You know, way back when in old times, when our women used to give birth outside. They would paint a circle of birthing symbols around them, and the woman would have her labor in that barrier of spiritual protection. The other women of the pack would stay with her, pray to the goddess along the outside of her circle. The only person permitted to enter the circle was the woman's mate the child's father. He would hold her and let her squeeze him to no end as she wailed. Most women pulled their babies out themselves with their own hands. It was a beautiful thing.

"Some women still deliver like that. If I could go back and have my own children that way, I would."

"They must have been strong women," I comment endearingly. "That couldn't have been easy."

Helena shakes her head. "Not easy at all. But with the mate there, it's near bearable."

"I believe it. David makes a lot of things bearable."

She pauses for a moment and peers down at the counter. "I'm glad he has you, Brigette."

"Helena-"

"Truthfully. After seeing him alone for those two years, well, I'm happy he's found you, and I can see how much he loves you."

I swallow and say, "Thank you."

"We need to stop," David says on the edge of the bed, pulling on his clothes.

I ignore him-exhausted by the back and forth. I roll onto my side and curl into my nudity. If this house weren't so big and these walls weren't so thick, I'd be embarrassed. But I've learned to quiet myself during these midday instances of weakness. "Then don't touch me anymore," I grumble into the covers, unable to help myself.

David is silent, and his presence is stagnant. I feel him sitting there as his energy radiates off of him and forces down on me.

"Brigette=" "Just go."