Pregnant With Four Alphas' Babies: A Reverse Harem Romance Chapter 188: It's Time

*Rose*

We arrive at Mark’s castle, finally, and as the Alphas are unloading me back out of the deathtrap of a van–not on a stretcher like any sensible people but by trying to carry my bloated body–I take a moment to look up at the beauty of the place.

I am in horrible pain, but the moment I look at the facade of the large building that resembles a large estate more than a castle, and a feeling of peace and tranquility suddenly settles around me.

It’s beautiful. The Jacobethan architecture style, with its Renaissance flares and symmetrical wings in an off-white stone looks breathtaking with large red roses and other flowers blooming all along the front. The yard is a vivid green, and the sky behind the structure is bright blue. It is the picture of quaint country life on a grand scale, and I can imagine my children growing up here, running through the gardens, hiding amongst the willows, or feeding ducks in a large pond I am imagining sits in the back, though I can’t see it.

Just as these pleasant thoughts bring a smile to my face, a horrendous pain shoots through me, and I am screaming bloody murder, lashing out, trying to hit anyone or anything nearby to make them understand how badly I need this pain to stop!

My fist catches Tristan in the eye, and then my other one hits Reece in the side of the head. They both stumble a bit, and then, I almost fall to the ground. “Why the fuck did you assholes not put me on a goddamn stretcher!” I shout at them.

“Sorry, baby,” Reece says. “We should have. We are idiots.”

“We’re almost there,” Mark insists, but it doesn’t seem like we are getting any closer to the house to me.

“You had better not try to take my ass up any stairs when we get in there, or I swear to the Moon Goddess above, I will kill every last one of you! I will rip your hearts out with my own fingernails and shove them down your throats until you either suffocate or bleed to death!”

I see them exchanging glances, though Tristan has one eye shut either because his eye is swollen or because it just hurts, and I know they are worried. They are either worried that I really will kill them or worried that I have lost my very last marble.

Maybe they should be worried about both.

Getting me up the stairs to the porch is a tribulation as it is since there are so many of them, and I am so awkward. By the time they get me up, I am screaming in pain again, ready to just have this over with one way or another. If these babies don’t hurry up and get out of me, I’m going to reach down there and pull them out myself!

A couple of servants are holding the doors open for us as the men get me through, and I am both relieved that it is a double door and mortified that I wouldn’t fit through a single door. We enter a lovely foyer with marble on the floors and head to the left, and I am crying because I might not fit through the bedroom door.

But the room they take me to isn’t a bedroom. It’s some sort of a library or office. The bookshelves aren’t very big, but the place is cozy, with a large fireplace flanked by one-footed wolves with snarling faces. It’s not lit, thank the Goddess because I am burning up.

I am glad to see they have a bed set up for me here. They place me down on it, and I take a moment to try to get my emotions under control, but I am still crying at first and then screaming when the contractions strike again. I hate everything about this.

“If you don’t give me a fucking epidural right this moment, I swear to the Goddess I will kill all of you!” I scream.

“Okay, okay. Let me check you, and we’ll see what we can do.” Dr. Travesty says as other people stream into the room who apparently have something to do with delivering babies. I look around and see four tiny little beds on wheels across the room from me, near what I assume is Mark’s desk. The people are all ready for my babies, and I want to cry again.

The healers go about getting me dressed in a gown that’s open in the back, like the hospital gowns, and I don’t even care if there are forty-seven people in this room, I’m in so much pain, I’d lay here naked and have these babies. Then, she has me spread my legs with just a sheet over them and shoves her fingers all the way up to my throat.

It hurts like a son of a bitch!

“Yep, we’ve got time still,” she says. Then, she turns to the people around her and starts giving orders for things I don’t understand, but when she tells me to turn around and hang my feet off of the bed so she can look at my back, I almost freak out again.

“It’s for the epidural,” Mark says in a calm voice as he comes around to face me, taking my hands in his. “Let her put it in.”

She has me curl my back, and then, I feel the prick of a needle and she says, “Okay, the epidural is in. It will take it a bit to get to work. Now, we’ll start your IV and give you some other medicine to make you comfortable. Here’s the button to push for when it hurts, but don’t push it for–”

Before she can finish her sentence, I’ve already pushed the button about ten times.

Dr. Travesty swipes it from my hand. “Miss Rose! Are you trying to hurt yourself?”

“I’m already dying!” I say to her as another contraction hits me, and it isn’t any easier than the ones before.

She shakes her head, and I want to punch her in the face, but I don’t. She’s got to have both eyes to get these babies out, unlike Tristan who is still winking at me.

They continue to bustle around me as I finally begin to settle into a state of minor pain and discomfort, and as the pain medication begins to work, I begin to feel much better about all of this. This is so easy, maybe I'll have four more babies.

About a half an hour goes by before Dr. Travesty checks me again. It’s then that she says, “All right, Rose. It’s time.”

“Time for what?” I ask her, feeling a little loopy.

She has a silly smile on her face. “Why, time to push, of course,” she says.

I look around. The Alphas are all smiling at me, too, and Tristan’s eye looks better.

But something is wrong. Something isn’t right. I can’t push yet. I can’t have these babies. “But… Eli’s not here yet,” I tell the doctor.

“I’m afraid these babies don’t care,” she says. “It’s time to push.”

“Don’t worry. He’s almost here,” Reece says, squeezing my hand.

As Tristan lifts one leg and Mark lifts the other, I get ready to push–and I begin to cry.

‘Eli? Where are you?’