Chapter Fourteen
Tripp
The little cabin sat not too terribly far off from a ledge one way and a creek the other, the water petering out into a gentle trickle down the mountainside in a way that suggested in a hundred years it might become the gentlest of waterfalls.
For that moment, it merely made for a wet cliff face and an unpleasant gleam at six in the morning in a way that penetrated the split of their curtains.
Even with a blanket thrown over their faces, the light flickered in and created a heated stripe that fell on just this side of uncomfortable—even for their snake forms. Reptiles loved heat.
And at that moment, Tripp loved heat, too.
It wasn’t quite lunch yet, and a beautiful flat rock near the creek side drew a healthy amount of sunlight that warmed it perfectly for his snake form.
Tripp stretched out in a little undulation, trying not to break his pose.
A yawn worked its way through him, constricting his chest until he opened his jaw wide, fangs splaying out awkwardly as his unfused jaw reseated itself.
Sorry! The quick apology slid along the bond between them, a bond most shifters shared to some degree, but theirs had grown so strong so fast.
“No problem. It was cute.” Dray hummed to himself as he sketched, eyes flicking upward every minute or so to take in one detail or another. He sketched quietly, the flicks of his pencil making little rasping noises, barely a tiny note above the rustling of evergreen leaves around them. “Ah, fuck.”
Tripp stared Dray down as he leaned to the side with a hiss of frustration, hand swiping over the ground. The question in Tripp’s gaze or along their bond must have given Dray pause.
“Dropped my fuckin’ pen.” Dray did some sort of angled gymnastics in attempt to navigate the hindrance of his belly. His awkward posture must have given him a cramp because he flailed, clutching his back for a second, and fell from his perch onto his side with an awkward flop. “Fuuuck!”
Tripp broke posture and held his head up, sliding off the rock with a fervent slither, shifting as he came over. “Dray!”
“I’m good! I just lost my balance. I—” As Dray hefted himself up, he ran his hand down his back and backside, fingers pausing. When he drew his hand back, he angled it this way and that, staring at a light sheen of liquid. “Uh-oh…”
“Uh-oh? Did you—uh… Need some fresh pants?” Tripp sniffed, and it didn’t smell anything like urine. Some part blood, some part metallic and entirely other.
“Didn’t piss myself. Get my phone. I’m calling the clinic.” Dray huffed and waved his hand at a naked Tripp, huffing as he tucked his legs and did his best to right himself.
Tripp took off running to the cabin, mind a field of anxiety and frustration. Still, he had a task. Find phone. Call clinic. Tripp nearly earned his namesake when he returned, stumbling to force the phone into Dray’s shaking hand.
He dialed a number and held it to his ear, breath shaking as he waited. “Hey, yeah, Dray La—Wells. Yeah.”
Tripp knelt next to Dray, mind too scattered to make sense of the speaker on the other end.
Dray rattled off their address. “Not regular, but it’s definitely broken.”
Broken? A broken arm? Leg? Had Tripp missed something? The fall barely seemed more than a misplaced roll off his seat.
“No, no blood.” Dray’s face tensed up, but Tripp scented blood… He raised a hand and pressed it to Dray’s shoulder as his mind refused to come to the conclusion. “You can be here in forty-five minutes?”
Dray huffed at whatever she said. “I’m in no fit shape to drive, and gods, Tripp is in no better shape to drive.”
“I’m fine to drive,” Tripp said, keeping his voice low.
Dray shot him a dirty look and shoved Tripp away by his chest. “Yeah. Okay, we’ll wait. Thanks.”
Dray sighed heavily and hung up the phone. “You’re not driving me to the nearest clinic. If the situation were reversed and you were in labor and I was driving—”
“Labor?” Tripp’s breath caught in his throat.
“I told you; I didn’t piss myself.” Dray offered Tripp a hand and gestured for him to pull him up. “Now, give me a hand.”
Tripp nearly choked trying to lift Dray up, adrenaline making him lift his mate effortlessly. “Where we going, babe?”
Dray closed his eyes and huffed. “Bathroom. Whatever this happens on is going to be messy.”
“O-okay.” Tripp toted Dray into the bathroom and settled him down beside the tub. He ran the shower and stepped in, rinsing off.
Tripp fidgeted for a moment until he forged forward and stepped in with him, hugging him from behind.
“I’m all wet, and sex isn’t happening,” Dray said, a laugh petering out over his lips.
“Well, not for another six weeks at this rate—longer if you want.” Tripp looped his hands over Dray’s belly, cupping under the swell of it to hold the tense dome, adding a little lift to ease his mate’s strain. “This isn’t doing anything to help, is it?”
“Not really. But it feels nice.” Dray heaved a deep sigh.
“It’s a few weeks early…” Tripp couldn’t help the fear festering inside of him despite Dray’s perfect calm.
“It’s fine. They may still have their egg intact, but the medic will decide if we can tear the membrane or wait a few days. My papa said I refused to leave my egg for three whole days after I was born.” Dray snickered.
“So how long before this whole trance thing starts?” Tripp rubbed his belly and swayed his hips, keeping Dray moving. It was probably the right thing to do.
“No clue. Sooner than later, I’d imagine. Just put a bathrobe on me backward, settle me down on a towel by the tub, and unlock the front door for when they get here.” Dray sagged in Tripp’s arms and luxuriated in the warmth, his breath growing shallow.
“Righto.” Tripp helped Dray out and did as he was told, wrapping him in the oversized robe, settling him down to lean back against the tub. He stoked the fireplace to warm the cabin some more and ensured the front door was unlocked. “Am I supposed to boil water or something?”
Tripp got back to the bathroom and found Dray leaning, eyes closed, breath sawing out slowly, almost as if he were asleep. “Dray?”
“Mn?” He shifted his hips uncomfortably, belly knotting up beneath the folds of the robe in a visible cinch.
“Do I boil water?”
“Nah. Just come hold me.” Dray reached his arms out, and Tripp sat, scooting into a cross-legged position where Dray leaned against him, awkwardly propping his hips up and nestling his head in Tripp’s lap.
He didn’t seem particularly with-it, so Tripp stroked his wet hair and waited for the clinician to arrive.
About twenty minutes later, Dray’s breath hitched, body strained, and the towel between his legs pooled with a fresh gush of fluid under the strain of what must have been a push. A few minutes after that? Again, he pushed, body tensing up, back arching.
Tripp glanced at Dray’s phone and then his own, the time since the call pushing over forty-five minutes, into fifty. “Where are they?”
He had a thought light up and sent a quick text to Rick—who was likely at their new house decorating and cleaning still.
It was a month or two off from being move-in ready, but Rick had promised to have it good to go for them as their wedding gift.
Tripp was paying him, anyway, but Dray didn’t need to know that. Rick wasn’t exactly flush.
Dray only groaned and pushed again.
Tripp picked up the phone and readied himself to call when the front door opened with a sharp creak and a voice announced, “I’m here for Dray. Is all well?”
“We’re back here. Bathroom, second door on the right.” Tripp waved a hand at the doorway for all the good it did.
A moment later, a perky face, one unfamiliar to him, brightened in the doorway.
A svelte little omega brightened as he eyed the situation.
“Sorry. We had several people going into labor at once, traffic and all that. Nelly sent me here. They’ve got a higher-risk birth that needs her attention.
My name’s Branden. You can check the list if you like to make sure I’m on it.
I believe Dray and I spoke once on a check-in. ”
“Rabbit, right?” Tripp nodded slowly.
“Yep! But I have delivered a few dozen eggs. I think we’re going to be just fine.
” Branden set a bag beside Dray’s struggling form, went to the sink to wash his hands, and then pulled out a kneeling pad to get down.
He snapped on some gloves and went in to investigate with a half smile of delight. “Just in time. He’s still tranced?”
Tripp nodded.
“Good. Good, good!” Branden put a puppy pad under Dray’s splayed knees and investigated, sliding his gloved fingers somewhere Tripp didn’t care to guess as Dray grunted with strain almost on command.
“Ooof! Yep, making progress. I’m going to do a little tugging on his rectum to open him a bit more and line his sphincter to his pseudo-cloaca. ”
The terminology flew over Tripp’s head, but he guessed that meant Branden was stretching him open and the process involved a generous squirt of a single-use packet of lube. The squelch of liquids and whimper from Dray’s lips told him something was happening.
Tripp did all he knew to do, stroking over Dray’s head and neck, letting him quiver, whimper, and push as the clinician did what he did.
He brought out another puppy pad after a while, disposing of the first one as pink fluid had soaked and filled it.
Still, more came, more pushing, and in a flash, Branden pushed the robe up over Dray’s ass, situated his hips, and Dray’s body convulsed.
Every muscle tensed and shook, and with a flurry of movement, Branden brought out a baby blanket, wet it in the tub next to him, and leaned down, his face a mask of concentration.
Swallowing hard, Tripp dared to ask, “Is it?”
“One more push, maybe two. Once the crown comes out, the whole thing slides out pretty easy.” Branden rushed forward and pressed on Dray’s hips, rocking them gently for a moment and, in a penultimate contraction, Dray’s body seized and jerked.
Branden rushed to catch something in the damp blanket and grinned, wrapping it ever so gently before handing it around to Tripp to hold.
It was smaller than Tripp imagined, still far bigger than anything that had a right to come from his mate’s channel.
The skin of it was textured, light raspy bumps still soft over the surface.
A slow flurry of motion rippled the shell, and Tripp blinked at it.
“It’s an indigo’s eggshell; does that mean our little one is an indigo? ”
“No, any species born would have his eggshell. The shell comes from his glands. You can usually tell the species by eye color. He’s got black eyes and you’ve got silver, so that’s the best indicator you have.
Not foolproof, but you can also lift the little one’s tongue and see if they’ve got venom sacs or not.
” Branden cleaned up fastidiously, working a pair of medical undergarments onto Dray once he was clean.
“Let’s get him into bed, and I’ll take his vitals.” Branden took his gloves off, and Tripp hesitated, not wanting to let go of the egg but also wanting to help his mate up.
“Set Junior down for a moment. They’ll be fine.” Branden stood and gestured as Tripp settled the egg in its damp blanket before helping Dray up. They carried him to the bed, settling him in while Branden put a shirt on him and Tripp went to retrieve their egg.
“My suggestion is to get home as soon as he’s awake.
” Branden went about taking Dray’s blood pressure, pulse, temperature, and then combed his hair down.
The tattoos along Dray’s chest and stomach had changed a little, but they’d return in time.
An open spot of pink skin on Dray’s chest held the space that his rattler would be soon.
Dray didn’t want any new tattoos until their little one was born.
“If he’s not hatched in forty-eight hours, call us and we’ll send someone to check.
If he stops moving, definitely give us a call.
Keep him warm and swap the damp blanket out every six hours. ”
Tripp nodded hastily, and Branden set a few bottles on the nightstand. “Make sure he drinks these. They’re a liquid smoothie of things for him to recoup the weight. As for the pills, they’re for pain if he has any. And since snakes don’t lactate, you’ve got formula ready, correct?”
“At home, yes.” Tripp stroked their egg nervously.
“All the more reason to get home. The babe won’t eat for the first twenty-four hours, and once he sheds, you can give him the puree.
They only eat every other day, so let him eat to his tummy’s content.
Once he has teeth, he’ll let you know when he’s hungry until he’s eating on a normal schedule.
” Branden saluted, left a few papers with some instructions, and strode out, a smile on his face.
Tripp tucked the egg into Dray’s side, letting the shell touch his skin while he called his parents and tidied up the mess they’d made in the bathroom.
Excited screaming left him nearly deaf in one ear as his mother screeched that she was a grandmother.
The noise must have woke Dray, because he gasped himself awake and let loose a strangled sob, not of pain but absolute joy when he noticed the egg. “Tripp!”
Tripp turned in time to see the absolute look of paternal bliss washing over his mate’s face.
Piercings, tattoos, everything. The dichotomy of such a wild child with such joy over the little egg made Tripp almost miss the demands from his mother to get home as soon as possible.
They wanted to be there for the hatching.
“We need to ask Dray if he’s comfortable.
You didn’t let Dad’s parents be at our hatchings. ”
“Yeah, but I didn’t like his parents.” Tripp’s mom huffed, and Tripp sighed. “I’ll ask.”
Dray gave Tripp a stupid smile. “Yeah. They can come. I was only hesitant because of the birth… Hey! My sketchbook.”
Dray glanced around anxiously until Tripp pointed to their packed belongings. His notebook lay closed on top. “I’ll pose for you at home if you need any more.”
“I’d like that. But I’d also like to sketch you holding him. I can take a photo for that and sketch from it.” Dray stroked his egg and sat up, a new determination in his eyes. “Fuck! I forgot to text Ri—”
Tripp pointed to Dray’s phone, and at least a dozen texts had come through.
“You’re the best.” Dray snapped a pic of their egg and buried himself in the device while Tripp packed the car. They left their wedding as two and would return a family.