Chapter 17: First Nursing
The world had narrowed to a point of soft, demanding pressure. Ollie leaned back against the propped-up pillows, every muscle in his body a separate, grateful ache. In the crook of his left arm, their daughter fed with a voracious focus that left him breathless. Her tiny mouth, a perfect rosebud, held a surprising, sharp strength. Each suck was a firm, rhythmic pull that resonated deep in his core, a strange and primal anchor.
“Look at her go,” Leo murmured. He hadn’t moved from his perch on the edge of the bed, a solid wall of heat and watchfulness. His large hand, which could so easily render violence, now cradled their son’s head with infinitesimal care. The smaller twin, after his dramatic entrance, had been lethargic, whimpering softly but refusing to latch. Now, with Leo’s thumb stroking his cheek, he finally turned, nuzzling blindly until he found Ollie’s other nipple. He latched with a quiet, desperate sigh, his feeding less aggressive than his sister’s, but just as intent.
Ollie gasped. “Oh. Wow. That’s… really direct.”
A low chuckle rumbled in Leo’s chest. “They’re wolves, little one. Even this small, they know how to take what they need.” His gaze was fixed on Ollie’s face, not the activity at his chest. He was monitoring for pain, for a flicker of distress. All Ollie felt was a draining exhaustion, and beneath it, a profound, humming satisfaction. A job done. A threshold crossed.
“They have names, you know,” Ollie said softly, his voice hoarse from screaming. He watched his daughter’s tiny fingers splay against his skin, her nails like minute, translucent shells. “While I was carrying them. I… I heard them.”
Leo went very still. “Heard them?”
“Not words. Feelings. Impressions.” He looked at the girl, her fierce devotion to the task already so clear. “This one is Esme.” He glanced at the boy, whose entire being seemed focused on the slow, steady nourishment. “And he’s Arlo.”
Silence stretched, filled only by the soft, wet sounds of feeding. Then Leo let out a breath, a slow release of tension Ollie hadn’t fully registered. “Esme and Arlo,” he repeated, testing the weight of them. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Ollie’s damp temple. “They’re perfect. You’re perfect.”
The medical suite door hissed open, and Silas re-entered, his arms laden with fresh linens and a steaming mug. The sharp scents of wolfsbane and honey cut through the intimate musk of milk and newborn. “How’s the production line?” he asked, his tone deliberately light.
“Efficient,” Ollie managed, a tired smile touching his lips.
“Good.” Silas set the mug on the side table. “Wolf-milk tea. It’ll help with your strength and… supply.” He nodded at the pups. “They’ll need a lot. Their shifts are going to be unpredictable for the first few months. Could happen with strong emotion—a temper tantrum, a giggling fit. You’ll be glad for the extra calories.”
The concept was so bizarre, so entirely removed from any parenting book he’d ever secretly skimmed, that Ollie could only blink. Leo, however, took it in stride.
“We’ll need to puppy-proof the entire house. Not just the corners. Everything.”
“Already on the pack’s to-do list,” Silas said, arranging the linens. “Kieran is threatening to upholster the entire living room in chew-proof leather.” He moved closer, his experienced eyes scanning Ollie, then each pup. “How’s the pain?”
“Distant,” Ollie said. It was true. The immediate, tearing agony had receded, replaced by a deep, bruised soreness that felt almost honorable.
“Good. The healing will be fast. You’ll be sore, but mobile, by tomorrow.” Silas checked Esme’s latch with a professional touch, then did the same for Arlo. “Strong suck. Both of them. That’s excellent.” He stepped back, his demeanor shifting subtly from medic to Elder. “Leo. A word.”
Leo’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, but he didn’t move. “It can wait.”
“It really can’t.” Silas’s voice held no room for argument.
With a soft growl of annoyance, Leo carefully extricated himself, ensuring Arlo stayed firmly latched. He stood, a mountain of protective muscle, and followed Silas a few paces away, just enough for a murmured conversation. Ollie strained to hear, but his attention was split by the two demanding little lives in his arms.
He caught fragments. Silas’s low tone: “…presentation was unusual… fighting like that in the womb… Council will have questions…”
Leo’s response was a hissed whisper. “The Council can wait. They’re healthy. That’s all that matters.”
“Their health is precisely why the Council will care, Leo. An Alpha and an Omega, born of an Alpha and a latent-born Omega, whose first shift was during a traumatic birth? They will see it as a sign. You know what they’re like about lineage and prophecy.”
“I don’t give a damn about their signs,” Leo snarled, the sound barely contained.
Ollie looked down at his children. Esme had detached with a soft pop, her eyes already drifting shut, a milk-drunken smile on her tiny face. Arlo continued to nurse, slower now, sleepy. An Alpha and an Omega. He’d felt their differing energies, but to have it confirmed so clinically sent a new shiver through him. They weren’t just pups. They were symbols. Pieces on a board he was only beginning to understand.
Leo returned to the bedside, his expression smoothed into a careful calm. He saw Ollie’s questioning look. “Nothing to worry about,” he said, brushing a thumb over Ollie’s cheekbone. “Just pack politics. The boring stuff.”
Before Ollie could press, a different concern surfaced. “Leo… I need to… I don’t know how to…” He gestured feebly at the sleeping Esme, then at Arlo, who was finally finished. “What do I do with them when they’re like this?”
Leo’s smile was instantaneous, transforming his entire face. It was a smile Ollie had rarely seen—unburdened, utterly tender. “Here,” he said, his voice dropping into a soft, instructional tone. “Like this, little one.” He gently lifted Esme, supporting her head with a massive hand, and laid her against his own shoulder. He began patting her back with a rhythmic, practiced motion. After a moment, a tiny, surprisingly forceful burp echoed in the quiet room.
Ollie stared. “How did you know how to do that?”
“I read a book,” Leo said, deadpan. Then he grinned. “Kieran’s mate had a pup last year. I paid attention. Now you try with Arlo.”
With Leo’s guidance, Ollie maneuvered the sleepy Arlo onto his shoulder. He mimicked the patting, feeling absurdly clumsy. Arlo simply nuzzled into his neck with a sigh. No burp emerged.
“He’s a gentleman,” Leo pronounced. “Unlike his sister, who’s clearly going to be a hellion.” He said it with palpable pride.
Silas approached again, this time with a small, sleek device. “Standard procedure,” he explained, aiming it first at Esme, then Arlo. A soft blue light scanned them. “Weight, check. Lung capacity, check. Shifter metabolic baseline… reading.” He frowned at the readout. “Hmm.”
“What?” Leo’s voice was a warning.
“Their baselines are high. Very high. Not problematic,” Silas added quickly, seeing the storm gather in Leo’s eyes. “Just… notable. They’re strong. Robust.” He looked at Ollie. “You made strong pups, Oliver.”
The door opened again, and Kieran peeked in, his usual cocky bravado replaced by a hesitant awe. “Alpha? Elder Silas said it was okay… I just, uh…” His eyes landed on the bundles in their arms and went wide. “Wow. They’re so small.”
“Come in, Kieran,” Leo said, his voice warmer than it had been all day. “Meet Esme and Arlo.”
Kieran crept in as if walking on ice. He stared, his face softening in a way Ollie had never seen. “They have your nose, Ollie,” he said quietly. Then he glanced at Leo. “And his eyebrows. Already looking judgy.”
A laugh burst from Ollie, raw and unexpected. It hurt his sore abdomen, but it felt good. It felt normal.
In that moment, with his daughter sighing in sleep against Leo’s shoulder, his son a warm weight against his own neck, with the quiet banter filling the sterile room, Ollie let himself sink into it. The fear, the politics, the unknown of what their unique nature meant—it all existed, a faint thunder on the horizon. But here, now, in this soft, exhausted aftermath, there was only this. This imperfect, perfect pack. This fragile, ferocious love.
Leo’s eyes met his over Arlo’s downy head. Gold held brown, and an entire conversation passed in the silence. We did this. They are ours. Whatever comes next, we face it together.
Ollie believed him. For the first time, without a shadow of resistance, he let himself fully believe. He nodded, just a slight dip of his chin, and saw the answering possessiveness in Leo’s gaze soften into something even more powerful: a profound, settled joy.
Outside the medical suite, the forest held its breath. Inside, a new chapter, louder and more demanding than any before it, had already begun.