18

A PREGNANCY TEST is just this flat piece of plastic with little windows in it. So small, it fit in my hand with room left over, and my hands aren't that big. Such a small thing to have so many people so upset. But then, if I was pregnant, the baby would be smaller than the pregnancy test. Tiny bits of plastic, and even tinier bits of cells, and my whole life rested on them. Okay, I wouldn't die if it was a yes, but it sort of felt like I would.

First, there's no dignity to it. You have to pee on the little stick. Or pee in a cup, then put the stick in it. Then you put the cap on, and wait for lines to appear. One line: not pregnant. Two lines: pregnant. It seemed simple enough.

I prayed not to be pregnant. I prayed, and I bargained. I'd be more careful. I'd use condoms and not trust just to the pill. I'd, well, you get the idea. I'm sure I wasn't the first single woman to sit in a bathroom wishing, hoping, praying, bargaining with God, that if this mess passes me by, I'll be better. Shit.

I didn't want to sit in the bathroom for the entire three minutes. But I didn't want to go outside and face the men either. I compromised; I paced inside the bathroom. It was ten steps from the door to the edge of the tub's raised marble. Ten steps, back and forth. Marble is cold on bare feet, but I usually didn't spend this much time walking on it. I was either coming in and out, or sitting in hot water in the tub. I concentrated on anything, everything, but that little piece of plastic where it sat on the side of the sink. I tried not to look at it. If you peek early, it may not be conclusive. I was carrying a man's watch in my hands. Micah's watch. He'd taken it off his wrist and handed it to me, because mine was still sitting on the nightstand beside our bed.

I tried putting the watch in the pocket of the robe, but that made me nervous, as though if I couldn't see the watch I'd screw the time up. I tried sitting on the edge of the tub staring at the second hand, but that made the time go even slower. Now that I was only minutes away from knowing, I wanted to know. No more guesswork. I needed to know, one way or the other. I needed to know.

What I didn't know was that Micah had set an alarm on the watch. It beeped at me, and scared me. I gave that little eep scream that only girls seem to do.

Claudia knocked on the door. "Anita, you all right?"

"Sorry, alarm startled me. Sorry." I was already in the middle of the room, opposite the sink. All I had to do was turn around. I had a death grip on the watch. My heart was beating so hard I was sure that everyone outside the door could hear it. I didn't want to look. I wanted to know, and I didn't want to know. I wanted to have someone else look. Micah would do it, or Nathaniel. God, I was being so cowardly, and stupid, as if simply not looking would make it not true. But I had to look, I had to.

I took those last few steps to the sink, and looked down. Two lines, two fucking lines. The world swam, and I had to grab on to the sink edge to keep from sliding to one side. All I could hear was my own blood roaring in my ears. I was not going to faint, damn it. I was not going to faint.

I lowered myself to my knees, still clinging to the cabinet edges. I put my face against my arm, and waited for the dizziness to pass. Fuck.

When I thought I could do it without feeling worse, I raised my head up. The room didn't swim. Good. But I wasn't at all sure I trusted myself to walk to the door. I hated it, but apparently my body had decided that it just wasn't working yet. I could either sit on the floor until I felt less weak-legged, or I could yell for help.

I knew the men were almost as tense about it as I was, so waiting seemed cruel, or maybe it wasn't cruel. They had a few minutes more of believing the worst hadn't happened. I hated to treat the miracle of life like a disaster but that's how it felt.

I finally called, in a voice that almost sounded like mine, "Claudia."

She tapped the door, and said, "Do you want me in there?"

"Yes," I said.

She came through, and one look at me on the floor made her close the door behind her. She walked to me, looked down at the test, and said with real feeling, "Well, shit."

"Yeah," I said.

"Who do you want to tell first?"

I shook my head and leaned back against the cabinets. "No one."

She gave me a look.

"I can't call them in one at a time; Richard will get pissed, or someone else will. I have to go out to them."

She gazed around the room. "They'd all fit in here, barely."

I tucked my knees up tight and held on. "Jesus, Claudia. Jesus."

She knelt beside me. Her face was so sympathetic that I had to look away. My eyes were starting to burn, my throat to tighten. "Help me do this before I start to cry."

"What can I do to help?" she asked.

"Help me stand."

She took my offered hand and raised me effortlessly to my feet. She kept a hand on my elbow to steady me, as if she knew I needed it. I didn't argue. We made it to the door that way, then I took my arm back, and opened the door.

I thought I had my face under control, but I must have been wrong, because they all reacted to it. Only Jean-Claude and Asher showed nothing, but their lack of reaction was reaction enough.

Micah and Richard reached me first, at almost the same time. They looked at each other, and Micah bowed out, let the other man touch me first. It was good of him, but I'd have preferred to hug him, since I was almost certain Richard would say something to make me feel worse.

He half-hugged me, so he could hold me, and still see my face. "It's a yes?"

I nodded, because I didn't trust my voice. My throat was so tight it hurt, as if I were choking.

He hugged me, and picked me up, and spun me around. When I could move my face back enough to see his, he was beaming at me. Beaming at me. He was happy! Happy about it!

"Don't you dare be happy about this," I said.

His smile began to fade around the edges.

Jean-Claude said, "Would you prefer he was unhappy about it?"

Richard put me down, while I looked at the other man. I glanced back up at Richard, who didn't look happy now at all. What would I have done if he had been angry, or sad, about me being pregnant?

I hung my head, resting the top of my head against Richard's chest. "I'm sorry, Richard, I'm sorry. I'm glad someone is happy about it."

He touched my face, raised it so I had to look at him. "I can't be unhappy about this, Anita. I can't. If we made a baby..." He shrugged, and his eyes were full of happiness, worry, so many emotions.

"What do you want us to say, ma petite? If we are not to be happy, then what do you wish?"

I pulled away from Richard. I just couldn't be happy and his being happy bugged me. "I don't know, just be what you feel, I guess."

Micah touched my arm. "I'm sorry you're unhappy about it."

I smiled at him, and the fact that I could smile at anything was probably a good sign. "How do you feel about it?"

He smiled. "I love you. How could I not love a little piece of you running around?"

I shook my head. "Don't you feel cheated? I mean, it can't be yours."

He shrugged. "I knew I gave up children of my own when I had the vasectomy."

"Why did you have yourself fixed?" Richard asked. "You're not thirty yet, why would you do that to yourself?"

Micah wrapped his arms around me, held me close. "My old alpha, Chimera, liked pregnant shapeshifters. If one of the women came up pregnant by someone else, someone she cared for, Chimera would take her until she lost the baby. He got off on taking her from her lover, from fucking her while she was pregnant with someone else's child, and from her losing it."

I held him tight, held him and listened to his heartbeat speed. His voice never showed how awful it had been, but his pulse did. I had heard the story before, but Richard had not; his face showed revulsion, and something else, anger, I think.

I'd never heard a story about Chimera that made me unhappy that I'd killed him. No, that was one death I had absolutely no regrets about.

Nathaniel came up behind me, and wrapped himself against my back, holding me between the two of them. It felt so safe. Even now, even with Micah's story still horrible and fresh, even with the news about the baby, I still felt safe. That had to be a good sign, didn't it?

Jean-Claude came to our side. We all raised our heads from the various shoulders we were on, and looked at him.

He touched my face, ever so gently, and smiled. "Whatever happens, ma petite, we will not desert you."

Asher walked around to the other side so I stood in a box of the four of them.

"I'm not really included, am I?" Richard said, and his voice held more sadness than anger.

Micah said, "You could be if you wanted to be, Richard. No one excludes you, but you." He held his hand out toward Richard.

Richard stared at that hand, then looked at all the men. "I can't, Anita. I can't be part of this."

"A part of what, mon ami?" Jean-Claude asked.

"All of you together," Richard said.

Micah let his hand fall. "We're not asking you to have sex with everyone, Richard. We're just comforting Anita, and ourselves. You're a shapeshifter; you understand the need for touch when you're worried or scared."

Richard shook his head. "It's always about sex with him." He pointed at Jean-Claude. "Don't let him fool you, Micah. He's enjoying touching you." It seemed he'd decided that of the other men, Micah was the one most likely to understand his unease.

Micah slid his arm around Jean-Claude's waist, pulled him in a little tighter against him and me. It forced Jean-Claude to put more of his arm across Micah's shoulders, put the line of their bodies against each other from hip to chest. Micah kept his gaze on Richard while he got cozy.

"If he were another shapeshifter, they'd enjoy the touch, too. We've all had a shock. We're all feeling insecure, Richard. We're all wondering how much our lives must change to accommodate a baby. We're scared, aren't you?"

"You're Nimir-Raj, are you saying you can't smell when someone's afraid?" There was derision in his voice.

"I thought you'd get angry if I told you that you smelled of fear."

Richard's hands made fists. His face darkening with anger, he fought for control of himself, visibly. It was almost painful to watch him fight his anger, and since his power never once warmed the room, he was controlling so much more than just his anger.

He started walking toward us, jerkily, as if his feet didn't want to move. He moved like some reluctant robot, until he came to the edge of the knot of men. Then he stopped. He just stood there beside us, as if he didn't know what to do next.

Jean-Claude moved, making a hole between himself and Nathaniel. It was an invitation to join the circle. Richard just stood there, eyes on the ground, hands limp at his sides. It was Nathaniel who moved even farther out, letting go of me, and only keeping Asher's hand. Nathaniel moved so that the circle became almost half a circle. Jean-Claude took his cue from Nathaniel, and moved farther away from me, his arm still around Micah. I stood alone with the men like a backdrop.

Richard stood there, unmoved, as if he hadn't noticed. I took a step forward, and touched fingertips to the fringe of his hair where it hid the edge of his face. He flinched, and raised his eyes to me. The pain in those brown eyes made my throat tight. Maybe I was just having an emotional night. Or maybe, if you love someone, you can never see that much pain in his eyes without wanting to fix it.

I had to go up on tiptoe to touch his face, one hand resting against his arm to steady myself. I rested my hand against the side of his face, just at the swell of his cheekbone, feeling the strength of that curve under my hand. His face was like him, strong, and outwardly perfect. Inside that nearly perfect male package there was a storm raging. It showed in his eyes, all that pain, that anger. His arm flexed under my hand. The smooth swell of muscle molding itself against the curve of my hand. I wasn't sure if he'd done it to remind me how strong he was, or if it was the only sign that he was still flinching. From the look in his eyes, I was betting on flinching.

He began to lean in toward me, as I stretched upward to meet him. Our lips met, but it was more a touch than a kiss. His lips moved against mine, the gentlest of kisses. I kissed him back, a soft caress of lips. Then his mouth pressed against mine, and there was nothing gentle about it. He broke from the kiss with a sound that was half sob and half sigh. He fell to his knees, dragging me with him, clinging to me as if I were the last solid thing in the universe.

I held him, stroked his hair, murmured his name, "Richard, Richard," over and over. He cried like his heart was breaking.

Jean-Claude knelt beside us. He put his hand on the back of Richard's head. When he didn't react to the touch, Jean-Claude put his arms around both of us. He laid his face against the side of Richard's head, and said something in French that I didn't catch. Whatever he said, it was low and comforting.

Nathaniel knelt on the other side opposite Jean-Claude. He touched my shoulder, but hesitated about touching Richard.

It was Clay who came and knelt at Richard's back. He gave me worried eyes, and pressed himself along Richard's back, his arms holding him tight. He said, "Smell the pack, and know that you are safe." It sounded like an old saying.

With Clay's body to protect Richard, Nathaniel hugged me and Clay, but we all hugged Richard. Clay had understood how much Richard needed the touch, but he'd also understood that he might not let leopards and vampires get that close. But another wolf of his own pack, that was safe. That one moment of understanding pushed Clay from bodyguard to friend in my book.

Micah came in at my back, hugging us close. Asher finally knelt, more by Nathaniel and me than Richard, but his hand touched Richard's hair. We all gave what we could.

The crying began to ease, then stop. I felt the tension in his arms, his body, ease. His breath went out in a long, heavy sigh. I felt him settle into the warmth and the touch. I felt all that care and worry drift away in the press of bodies, and caring.

Then he drew in a deep, full breath, and rose up higher on his knees. It was like a man rising from deep water, except that this water was hands and bodies. He rose to his knees, then started struggling to his feet. We all moved back to let him stand.

He smiled down at me, at all of us. "Thank you, all of you. I needed it. I didn't know how much..." He started to move out of the kneeling circle of us. Jean-Claude and Clay moved back so he could walk out.

He stopped at the foot of the bed, and took a breath so deep his body shuddered with it.

Jean-Claude stood, and helped me to my feet. I didn't protest the help; I felt shaky. Richard wasn't the only one who needed to be held tonight.

Everyone got to their feet, in ones and twos. We waited for Richard to say something, or for one of us to think of something worth saying.

He turned back and gave us a smile. It was his old smile, his Boy Scout smile, I used to call it. He looked more relaxed than I'd seen him in a while.

"I'll bunk in Jason's room tonight."

"You don't have to leave," I said.

The smile slipped a little, letting some sadness through. "I can't sleep here, Anita, not with all of them."

"I don't think everyone is staying," I said.

He shrugged. "I don't want to share you, Anita. Especially tonight. But I saw your face when Nathaniel and Micah held you. You never look that peaceful with me anymore."

I opened my mouth, to say something comforting, but he held up a hand and stopped me. "Don't deny it, Anita. I'm not angry, just..." He shook his head. "I don't know what to do, but I know I can't share you tonight. It will be dawn soon, and you won't want Jean-Claude with us. He's the only one I could stand to share you with tonight." He shrugged again. "But you'll want something warmer." His face struggled to look cheerful, and almost succeeded. "It's better if I just go. I'll say, or do, something to upset Anita tonight. I know I will." His frown turned into something bitter for a second. "I appreciate the comfort, I needed it, but part of me still wishes you were all gone." With that, he turned on his heel and went for the door.

"Clay," I said, "go with him."

Clay didn't argue, and when he followed him out, Richard didn't protest. I took it as a good sign. I hoped so, anyway.