Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 79: George

Ernest

“GET OUT!” Gemma roared as she stood bent over the bed, her hair wet with sweat and matted to the

sides of her face. Rowan backed through the doorway, tripping over Ethan, who caught him before

Rowan could fall flat on his ass in the hallway of the medical clinic. Ethan was wide eyed, stealing a

single glance at Rosalie before he dragged Rowan out of sight.

Dad was right behind them, but he stopped before shutting the door, giving me a soft, emotional smile. I

nod ded, smiling back, just as Gemma roared again, this time screaming “F*CK!” loud enough for the

glass panes in the window to tremble.

Rosalie was at her side, her arms coming around Gem ma’s shoulders. She was whispering in Gemma’s

ear, and Gemma was shaking her head, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead.

Rosalie looked at the midwife, who was busy talking to my mom in the corner of the room as they folded

towels. When Rosalie failed to get their attention, she moved her gaze to me. She slowly left Gemma’s

side and glided across the room, dressed in a nightgown and robe.

“Talon made it seem like it was an emergency. Is she al right?”

“She’s fine,” I said a little too loudly. Gemma snapped her head in my direction, her eyes narrowed into

slits. “She’ s doing a great job!” | paled as Gemma’s lip trembled, fury flashing behind her eyes.

“Easy for you to say. It must be nice-ow!” She bent her head toward the bed, rocking her hips from side

to side.

“I’m terrified,” I leaned into Rosalie, whispering discreet ly into her ear.

“Don’t be, she’s going to be fine,”

“No, for myself,” | admitted, swallowing hard. “She wants to kill me. I can see it in her eyes.”

Rosalie arched her brow as she stifled a laugh.

“It won’t be long now,” the midwife said as she passed by with a stack of towels in her hands, setting

them down on a table on the side of the room.

It was a cozy space with soft yellow walls and cream colored vinyl flooring. It looked more like a bedroom

than a hospital room, but the midwife and her assistant had ex plained the reasoning for that during one

of Gemma’s re

cent appointments. It was meant to make the patient feel more at home, calmer, and it seemed to prove

successful

especially during births.

Winter Forest had had a baby boom over the past decade, and the midwife had delivered almost every

single one in this village.

But despite the warm ambiance of the room, vases full of flowers, and a barrage of women tending to

Gemma’s every whim, she was struggling.

Her water had broken only an hour ago, and the situa tion escalated rapidly from there. I had to carry her

to the clinic, and she nearly skinned me alive with her fingernails during the short walk from her mother’s

house along the shoreline. She had broken the skin in a few places where she gripped my arm for dear

life, but I knew it paled in comparison to what she was feeling now.

“I’m done; I don’t want to do this anymore. I changed my mind. Ernest, I want to go home now!” She

pleaded, reaching up to wipe her nose. Her face was stained with tears. I wanted to take her home. I

would do anything she asked if it would take the pain away. But that wasn’t an op tion.

| stepped past Rosalie and went to Gemma’s side, where I sat on the edge of the bed and held onto her

arms as another ripping contraction swept over her body.

Rosalie and the midwife were watching her carefully. I could see a moment of recognition pass behind

Rosalie’s eyes, which was quickly replaced by relief as Gemma came out of the contraction and caught

her breath.

“She didn’t talk through that one,” the midwife said to Mom as she made a note of the time on her

clipboard be fore hanging it back up on the wall. She moved toward the sink and began to thoroughly

wash her hands.

“Gemma, I think it’s time,” I said gently, tucking her hair behind her ears as she rocked back and forth,

holding onto my shoulders.

“Just cut it out. Put me under!”

“It’s too late for that now, sweetheart. This baby was ready to go!”

The midwife had donned gloves with the help of her as sistant and was moving toward Gemma. Gemma

saw her and tensed, her eyes meeting mine and giving me a look of utter terror.

“You’re doing great, Gem.”

“I want to go home – oh, Goddess, please, help!” She pressed her head against my shoulder, straining

with all her might. I wasn’t totally sure what to do now, so I sat there

like an idiot, petting her as though she was a cat. We had taken a birth class with the midwife, but it had

been a calm experience. This felt like… war.

“Ernest, honey, let’s get her on the bed,” Rosalie was at my side in an instant, her hands gently running

down the length of Gemma’s arms as she began to coax her onto the bed.

Mom was standing on the other side of the bed looking absolutely ecstatic as she beamed down at

Gemma, who was purple in the face and grimacing.

“Are you ready to have this baby?” The midwife posi tioned herself between Gemma’s legs, smiling up at

her over the tight swell of her stomach.

“No!” Gemma cried, and I felt tears welling in my own eyes.

I looked across the bed at my mom, who had taken one of Gemma’s hands and was leaning down to

whisper en couragements to her. Rosalie placed her hand on my back, patting it gently before she took

Gemma’s knee and held it in the crook of her shoulder.

I took Gemma’s hand. “You got this, Gemma.”

I didn’t take my eyes off of her. I felt like everything!

had ever done in my life had led to this very moment. I had spent every waking moment of the last nine

months won dering how I would ever deserve her. She was so strong, so incredibly intelligent and all

around perfect in every way. And now she was having my child.

I don’t know how much time passed. I don’t remember the words I said to her as she brought our child

into the world. I only remember the feeling of her hand in mine, and how the tension abruptly left her

body as the tell-tale wail of an infant filled the room.

They placed him on her chest, his knees reflexively tucked into his belly like he had been in the womb.

Gemma was sobbing, and Rosalie was stroking her hair. Mom looked a little pale, but the wide smile

stretched across her face was undeniable.