A Werewolf, A Vampire, and A Fae Walk Into A Bar (Book 1 of The Last Witch Series)

anything else, even the outrageously sexy man propped between my legs barking orders at the other two.

I can't describe this kind of pain. Blinding comes to mind, but that might just be because my eyes are slammed shut while I wait for either the pain to pass or my life to end. In any case, the feeling of a baby wedging its way out of my uterus makes it hard to focus on "Get water boiling," he tells Sexy #1. "And you," he says to Sexy #3, "get me clean rags and the sharpest knife you can find."

"No," I say, trying to sit up. "Take me upstaAAAIIIIRRS... I need to LLLLLIIIIIIEEEEEE down."

Sexy #2 shakes his head. "No, you'll stay down here. You're in no condition to be moved right now." He locks eyes with me, and the pain ripping through me ceases momentarily as I get lost in his forest green gaze.

"Who are you?" I ask, panting through another contraction.

"My name is Zev, Bernadette. I'll make sure you deliver the child safely."

The brutal contractions fade again as my head spins. Zev? A doctor I've never met who knows my name and waltzed into my bar moments before I went into labor?

"No one calls me Bernadette unless they're trying to pisssssSS... me off. And I don't think you want to do000000000000000... that."

"Anger won't help, but a charge of adrenaline can't hurt," Zev says, as he directs Sexy #1. "Get behind her and support her back."

I feel strong arms slip around my waist and I lean into his chest. I have no shits left to give. "What's your name, then?" I ask when I can speak again.

"Darius," he says, his lips brushing against my ear with his words.

"Zev and Darius," I repeat, mostly to make sure I heard right the first time. "And how about yoooOOUUUUUUUU?!" I say to Sexy #3 right as another contraction hits. This labor is progressing much more quickly than what the lady in my birthing class described. Before the third mystery man can answer, Darius chimes in again. "Rune, take her other arm, even out the support." Okay, I guess Sexy #3 goes by Rune. It also seems as though these guys know each other, even if they like to sit at different tables when they go out. The pain dulls enough for me to do some quick math. Outside, the storm's getting worse. Inside, I'm going into labor a week early. Most importantly, three oddly-named, unconscionably sexy men are helping deliver my baby with a calm very few men show in the labor ward. So... WTF?

"I'm surprised we all arrived at the same time," Rune says to the others. "I was sure I had a head start."

"We work off the same prophecy, old friend," Zev responds in his gruff baritone. "There's only one star to guide us."

"The only surprise," Darius says, "is that we never had a discussion as to what we'd do when it came time to take the child."

My head cranks toward Darius at these words. Is he talking about my child? I'd ask him directly but another contraction wracks my body and I scream, clutching Darius and Rune's hands with all my strength. Neither even flinches.

Meanwhile, with my eyes clamped shut, I feel a firm tugging at my pants. "You cannot deliver this child while wearing these," Zev says calmly.

Oh God, I hadn't thought about this part. Shit.

"Someone get me a blanket at least," I say through clenched teeth.

Darius and Zev look to Rune, who swiftly pops up and moves to the kitchen.

"He's good at finding things," Zev explains.

As advertised, Rune promptly returns with an armful of large towels

"Will this do?" he asks, suggesting he could go back into my kitchen and find more, somehow better towels.

""Those are fine."

He drapes the cover over my abdomen, as Zev gets me half naked.

"I will be watching you, dog," Darius says with an unfriendly bite to his voice. "Don't think for a second you're quick enough to catch the baby and escape."

Zev barks out a short laugh. "Oh, Darius, how I've missed your playful name calling. And don't expect me to run, I wouldn't want to deprive myself of tearing you apart."

"Now's not the time to revisit old wounds," Rune says in a condescending tone, like a bored professor explaining something simple to his students for the tenth time. "You can carry on with your bickering when the prophecy is fulfilled and the fae flourish once again." "Cocky as ever," Darius mutters.

As fascinating as this exchange is, the language terrifies me. If I wasn't so actively birthing a child, I would absolutely sprint into a deadly storm to get away from these men.

"Who the hell are you people? How did you know my name? Why...aaaAAAAAAHHHHHH!" I can't even finish the question, which is for the best because I didn't really know what to ask. Everything about this situation needs answers, but for now I'm just going to hope these men keep helping since I've got nowhere else to go.

"Hold my hands, Bernadette," Darius says from behind me. "Squeeze when you feel a contraction and focus on pushing."

"You three stop acting like psychopaths and I will." My face probably shows that I'm terrified, but I don't let on with my words. Growing up in a Massachusetts bar, I learned to talk tougher than I felt at a very early age.

Rune lowers himself to the floor, pressing gently against my knee, spreading my legs a little further and bringing back a shade of self-consciousness. He catches my eye and clearly sees a discomfort that goes beyond just the physical. "When you feel a contraction, push your leg against my hand. That will activate the muscles you need to move the baby along."

I'm about to throw out another verbal lashing when I see Zev nod. "He's right. I'll keep my hand on the other knee."

I'm surrounded by men who might

all be murderers, but without any

other options I've landed on implicitly trusting Zev based on his word that he's a doctor...if I like. hope it's the doctor claim that got Zev in my good graces and not the ruggedly handsome face, which has always been a weakness of mine.

Whatever the case, the new position helps. I scream and push between breaths, barely aware that Darius has put a wet washcloth over my forehead. I trust he grabbed a clean one and not the towel I'd been using to mop up Joe's beer.

Everything about this birth has gone

wrong, and yet I find the situation strangely empowering. I'd planned on a very sterile, clinical, hospital bed delivery, none of that froufrou home or water birth stuff that the

neighborhood midwives tried to sell me on. But now, sitting at an incline

against a guy named DawoContent property of NôvelDra/ma.Org.

dudes named Zev and Rune side by side between my wide open legs, naked butt on the cold floor of an empty bar, I feel a small rush of pride over my natural birth. Who needs an epidural when you've got creepy intruders?

"The head is emerging," Zev says without a trace of happiness in his voice, casually explaining that my labor pains might soon come to an end. "Push harder with the next feeling of contraction."

"Oh, I'm sorry, have I not been pushing hard enough for you?"

Zev gives me a confused look, clearly not a sarcasm buff. This will make my feisty tone less effective.

As another wave of agony ripples through my torso, my legs start to close as my muscles flex. The pressure from Zev and Rune's hands gives me a little extra oomph in my push and suddenly the pain, while still incomprehensibly awful, takes on a new burn.