Her fingers wouldn't unclench from the tiny body against her chest. She couldn't. She couldn't let go. "Give him to me, little fox." Ivan's voice was warm and certain in her ear. His hand was already moving, already sliding beneath the cub with that careful, enormous gentleness. "I've got him, you focus on pushing push."
She released the cub into Ivan's arms, watched the big lion cradle him against his chest with a reverence that made her throat tight, and then the next contraction seized her, and she was pushing, pushing, her back arching off the mattress as Voss guided and supported and spoke to her in that steady, grounding voice.
"Voss," she gasped.
"Right here, Fel." He was behind her, all around her, his massive body a wall she could brace against. One hand splayed across her lower belly, the other gripping hers so she could crush his fingers as hard as she needed. His mouth pressed to her sweat-damp temple. "You're doing it. You're already doing it. Push."
