Fourteen
It had been months since Sam Uley felt the need to shift into a werewolf, and he was glad of it. As much as his body hungered for the change at times, especially with Bella Swan, still young enough to be considered a newborn, his mind was finding it more and more important to stay human, especially now.
Emily was asleep in the bed beside him, her shoulder and the thick knot o her hair coiled at the top of her head were backlit by the rising dawn. It was overcast and grey and Sam could hear the fine pelting of drizzle slapping against the roof like a constant hum. Her amber skin shimmered in the light filtering through the window.
Sam was still half asleep, and instinctively he reached his palm out to touch the hardening roundness of her pregnant belly. The baby liked to twirl and kick while Emily slept, and this morning was no different.
God, he loved his. Her warm body next to his and the slowly changing shape of her body. The fullness of it made his breath catch in amazement every time he looked at her.
Still half asleep herself, but with Sam's touch stirring her, Emily slid her own hand down her body to cover his.
"She's dancing this morning," Sam whispered, kissing the sweet-smelling skin at the back of Emily's ear. They had decided to be surprised by the gender of their child, but Sam was convinced that it was a girl.
Emily yawned, shaking her head diffidently. "Naw, he's playing soccer with kicks like that."
Sam laughed. There was always a grin on his face these days. "I wish you knew how sexy you look like this. I want you to be pregnant all the time." He moved the tiny hairs away from the nape of her neck and started to trail kisses down her shoulder and arm.
Emily scoffed. As elated as she was about having Sam's child her body ached. "I'm not even going to dignify that statement with a response."
Sam's kisses were curved from the upturned smile of his lips.
Emily could feel the growing stiffness of his erection at her back. She hummed in appreciation, turning herself until she was facing him. Ever since she revealed her pregnancy to him, he had taken a remarkably gentle approach to touching her. It was something that she enjoyed, but she still missed the wild Sam that she had known at the beginning of their relationship and the first few years of their marriage. When they made love, she could always see the wolf side of him.
She straddled him, coaxing his erection up with her hand until it was flush against the mound of her stomach. Sam hissed, and she smiled, her eyes closing slightly from the pleasure she took in the sounds that he made. Sam gripped her hips, guiding her as she began to grind her body down on his.
"You're going to have to finish what your hands are starting, you know that?"
Grinning, Emily slowed her pace, causing Sam to groan in frustration.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she raised her hips, keeping eye contact with Sam the entire time. When she drew herself down slowly onto him, allowing her body to be filled, she watched as he flung his head back in surrender.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered, all but breathless by the sight of her. The warmth of her made him desperate.
Emily raised her hands, covering the blush, and the gnarled tangle of scars on the side of her face. Sam gripped her hands and drew them down, until they were flush against his chest. "You're going to have hold me down, again."
Sam was too apprehensive to make love to her with him on top. He insisted that they take pleasure from each other in this position. He was petrified of hurting her, even though the doctors had confirmed there could be no harm in continuing to have intercourse at this stage of her pregnancy… And he liked it when she took control of him.
Beyond them, out the window, the sunrise, moment ago so soft and bright, was turning to shade and clouds. Rain began to pelt against the window glass, a storm coming on more violently then before.
Emily slept in a tank top now, her body always feeling feverish from the pregnancy, and Sam watched while she flung it up over her head, letting her breasts sway above him.
Just the sight of her like this was enough to make him unravel around her, but he stayed himself, steadying, and calming.
"I love you," she whispered, bending forward to touch her lips to his.
Sam sighed, his breathing coming fast. "I love you," he whispered back. Emily took his lip between her teeth and he growled, his hands coming down on her back roughly. Immediately he regrated the force and he dropped his fingers.
Emily shook her head, guiding them back. She leaned up again, letting the full sight of her breasts and round belly fill Sam's sight. She placed her hands-on Sam's chest again, recognizing the crazed look in his eyes, holding him down as he requested.
Sam reached his hand out, letting his fingers touch the soft mound between her legs, his fingers plucking and rubbing at the nub of her clitoris. Emily gasped from his touch, the pace of her hips intensifying. When she started to cry out and tighten around him, they came together. It was a loud surrender; a delicious peace. Sam's entire body erupted in goosebumps, and when Emily fell upon him, spent herself, he shuttered again.
Emily was still collapsed on top of him when he felt the baby kick again. He laughed, and his chuckle made her laugh.
She lifted herself up again and his large palms spread out across her belly.
"What do you think of the name Jane?" He asked.
A snarky gin transformed her face. "What do you think of the name Owen?"
Sam smiled, despite himself, and palmed her ass lightly. "I'm going to make coffee; do you want some tea?"
Sam was a lifelong coffee drinker, addicted to midnight black brew since he was in junior high, whereas Emily had always preferred the light delicacy of tea.
"Yes, please," she answered, maneuvering herself off of him. Tea was still her favorite, but it had to be decaf now.
Sam pulled away reluctantly, taking the opportunity to kiss her shoulder again. Her skin tasted sugar sweet and he was aching for her all over again. He padded, barefoot, into the kitchen. They had lived in the tiny cabin on the edge of the beach for more than five years, and it was filled with knickknacks and tiny sprinkles of Emily's eclectic style. Embroidered pillows that Emily had created using Tribal markings sat atop the hand-me-down sofa and a silvery disco ball hung from the center part of the ceiling in the living room. On sunny days this part of the tiny house was lit up with swirling rainbows. On his way to the kitchen, he passed the tiny bedroom that would one day be for their child. Sam was in the process of working on a handmade cradle that was still in the stages of being built.
The coffee was set to automatically brew at sunrise and upon entering the kitchen he could smell the thick aroma of it.
Lifting an empty mug up from the cabinet he filled it with water from the tap, placing a bag of decaf lemon tea inside before setting the microwave timer for one minute and thirty seconds. While Emily's tea stepped, he took another mug down and started to pour the midnight black liquid into it—
—the mug dropped from his hands, shattering to the floor. Sam gripped the countertop; a sudden pain filled the cavity of his chest. He lifted his hand to it, placing as much pressure on it as he could, he felt empty, his body inside a sudden churning, bones collapsing, a feeling that could only mean one thing—
"Sam?" Emily called from the other room. He could hear the hurry in her tread as she got out of bed and started to run down the hall to him.
Sam opened his mouth, desperate to warn her. He tried to speak, but the words were garbled. Still gripping his chest with one hand he staggered to the other side of the kitchen, holding up his other hand to her when she entered. The look in his eyes stopped her dead. His eyes were changing but the last human glimpse of her was of her hands coming up protectively around her belly.
He felt his head sway back and forth. His skull elongating as his mouth transformed into a muzzle. Before his human feet could shift completely, he ran the three long strides to the screen door, falling through it with a slash and a booming splintering of breaking wood. The doorframe toppled in over all around him. Shards of sharp wood raining down around him.
He though of Emily, tried to turn his head back to her, even now that he had completely changed into his wolf form, but all he could see was the vision of the new vampires that was driving his blood into a sizzling frenzy. Sam's wolf form howled. It was both a sound of deep anger as well as a sound of deep distress.
He longed to look back at the cabin. See for himself that Emily was alright, but the need to destroy the strangers, was so overwhelming that he could not stop himself from taking to the beach at a run. The padding of his paws scraping at the coarse sand. He felt the tiny pricks of the driftwood and sharp stones cut up his skin, but he could not stop.
The blood of his ancestors spurred him on. He felt the others shifting in turn—Jared, Paul, Brady, the others. Their howls of agony and determination echoed his own.
Somewhere, distantly, he though he felt Jacob shift as well. An angry change, less forced that Sam's had been, but somehow more determined. And even beyond that, he thought he could hear the long-silenced echo of Leah struggling.
He hadn't spoke to Leah in years. Her thoughts long silent to him since she left his pack, but now, in the rain and storm, he could have sworn that he heard the remembered song of her howl.