Chapter 186 Chapter 186

Chapter 186 Chapter 186
Jolene
The fire in our hearth crackles quietly, throwing long, warm amber shadows across the dark oak beams of the bedroom. 
The air smells of sweet chamomile, melted candle wax, and the rich lavender cream Merrick is currently smoothing over my stomach.
I sit on the mattress between his massive legs, leaning my back against the solid heat of his chest. His bare arms are wrapped around me, his huge, calloused hands moving in slow, rhythmic circles over my skin. 
Every now and then, Hope gives a lazy, heavy roll against his palms, clearly enjoying the spa treatment as much as I am.
"I still can't believe I don't have a single stretch mark," I murmur, watching his large fingers trace the tight, smooth curve of my belly. "I mean, I look like I swallowed a watermelon whole. My skin feels like it's stretched so thin that it’s going to split open at any moment, but not so much as a little mark even."
Merrick lets out a low, vibrating hum against my shoulder blade. "Lycans don't get stretch marks, Jo."
I tilt my head back, looking up at his sharp jawline. "At all?"
"Rarely," he rumbles, his thumb gently working a bit of lavender oil into the side of my waist. "Because of the shift, our healing abilities are greatly accelerated or we’d die. Surely you noticed.” 
“You have some scars though. So does Lexington and Kaelen.”
“Deep wounds or silver can leave a scar. So can magical injuries.”
“Damn,” I sigh wistfully. “So I won’t even have one little mark as a reminder of the pregnancy?”
I can hear a smile in his voice when he says, “You sound disappointed.”
“Yeah. I kind of am.”
He chuckles softly. “On the upside, after you’ve given birth, you’ll recover in a matter of days."
"Days?" I blink, staring at him. "So does that mean I’ll get kicked out of bed after twenty-four hours and expected to return to my normal duties?"
"Of course not, sweet girl," he says softly, leaning down to press a warm, lingering kiss to the side of my neck. "You will go into confinement for two months so you can bond with our daughter."
A quiet sigh slips past my lips. That... actually sounds heavenly. Alone, away from all the chaos, just me, Hope, and Merrick.
But as his hands continue their slow, soothing circles, the warmth in my chest curls into a tight, nervous knot. The lighthearted banter from breakfast feels miles away now, replaced by the heavy, shadowy reality of what's coming in just a few short weeks.
"Merrick?" I ask quietly, my voice dropping an octave.
"Hmm?"
"At breakfast... you said a Lycan birth is sacred. What did you mean by that?" I pause, tracing the seam of his dark trousers with my index finger. "Honestly... I'm terrified of giving birth. I don't know what to expect. I've read books, sure, but those were written for humans. I don't know how this works for us."
Merrick's hands pause on my stomach for a fraction of a second before resuming their gentle motion. He pulls me a little tighter against his chest, his chin resting on my shoulder, his warm breath fanning across my cheek.
"The process is much the same, I'd imagine, but... it is sacred because it is a direct communion with the Goddess," he explains, his voice taking on a quiet, reverent tone I don't hear very often. "When a Lycan she-wolf brings a child into the world, she does not do it in an ordinary bedroom. You will give birth in the consecrated birthing chamber inside the Moon Temple."
I frown, twisting slightly to look at him. "The Moon Temple?"
"It sits on the eastern cliff above the falls," he says smoothly, describing the ancient structure tucked far up the mountain ridge. "The birthing chamber is built of polished white marble, with a domed glass ceiling open to the night sky, lined with moon-stone and silver water basins. It is tended by the Lunites - female devotees who have dedicated their lives to the service of the Moon Goddess. They will bathe you in sacred herbs, sing the ancient chants, and guide you through the labour. And Lycan births always happen on the full moon."
I stare at him, my mind frantically trying to process the mental image. Marble domes? Moon-stone? Singing Lycan nuns?
"Wait," I say, my voice rising a notch as a sudden prickle of anxiety starts to claw at my throat. "Hold on. Singing? What about a midwife? Or Calla? Or a proper healer like Clara with actual medical supplies in case something goes wrong?"
Merrick tilts his head, looking mildly amused by my reaction. "The Lunites have guided every Lycan birth for three thousand years, Jo. They do not need modern instruments. The Goddess provides the strength."
"The Goddess isn't going to perform an emergency C-section if she gets stuck, Merrick!" I argue, sitting up straighter, the lavender lotion suddenly feeling slick and cold on my skin. "I want a doctor. Or at least Calla in the room with me! I am not sitting on a pedestal while a bunch of women in robes hum at my vagina!"
Merrick lets out a low, deep rumble of laughter, a sound that usually melts me, but right now it just makes my blood boil.
"Calla cannot be there, Jo. Neither can I," he says plainly.
The room goes dead quiet.
I freeze, turning around entirely on the mattress so I'm facing him, my eyes wide. "What do you mean, you can't be there?"
"Men are strictly forbidden from entering the birthing temple," Merrick says, his tone shifting into that firm, unyielding King's register. "It is an ancient law. No male, not even the King, or even the father himself, may cross the threshold while the temple is active. It is a sanctuary for she-wolves alone."
"You're joking," I whisper, my heart slamming violently against my ribs. "Merrick, tell me you're fucking joking."
He looks at me, his gaze steady, completely devoid of humour. "I do not joke about the moon laws, Jolene. I will stand guard outside the heavy iron gates at the temple entrance. I will hear your cries, and I will feel your core through our connection, but I cannot step inside. No man can."
A wave of pure, cold panic washes over me.
No men. No Merrick. No holding his massive, familiar hand until my knuckles turn white. No leaning against his chest when the contractions tear through me. Just me, inside a sacred marble sanctuary surrounded by strangers, while my husband is forced to wait on the other side of the doors.
I open my mouth to fight him... to scream, to demand, to throw a full-blown tantrum until he promises to tear down the ancient laws just like he tore down the signal jammers in town.
But as I look into his dark green eyes, I stop.
There's a deep, ancient weight in his gaze. He isn't being cruel, and he isn't trying to control me. He genuinely believes that stepping into that sanctuary would bring a curse down on our daughter's head or something. He knows everything about the magic of this world, about the ancient bloodlines, things I am only just beginning to grasp.
If I push him on this, I won't just be arguing about a birthing plan. I'll be asking him to desecrate the very magic he relies on to keep us safe.
My jaw snaps shut. I look down at his lotion-covered hands still cradling my belly, my shoulders slump as the argument completely drains out of me, leaving behind a hollow, aching dread.
Merrick's large hand reaches out, his fingers gently cupping the back of my neck, pulling me back against his chest. He wraps his heavy arms around my waist, burying his face in my hair, holding me so tight I can feel the steady, thunderous beat of his heart against my spine.
"You are strong, my Queen," he whispers into my skin, his voice thick with a quiet, fierce emotion. "You carry the sun line in your marrow and our fierce daughter in your womb. The temple will keep you safe. And I will be standing right on the other side of those gates, holding the mountain until you walk out with our child."
I close my eyes, pressing my face into his neck, letting his furnace-like heat anchor me in the dark room.
I don't argue. I don't say another word. But as Hope gives a sharp, restless kick, I stare into the crackling fire, knowing that while Merrick, my pack, and our allies are waging a war on the outside, I'll be stepping into that birthing chamber to wage a war all by myself.