Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
DRAY
The waiting was harder than I'd expected.
We'd been in the clearing for eleven days, watching the eggs and keeping them warm. Nothing had happened, not even a wriggle or a crack. Pax was the patient one, whereas I, the dragon shifter, was anxious and biting my nails as I imagined the day we’d have our three kids in our arms.
I pulled the blankets covering the eggs to the right to make sure they were all snuggly and wondered if today was the day.
Pax fidgeted and circled the nest. Every second round, he’d check the eggs and sometimes adjust their position. I’d learned not to say they were fine because he’d respond with, “Are they? How do you know?”
And then my dragon would start with, Yes, how do you know they’re fine?
And I’d have no answer. They were intact, with no hairline cracks, and they were warm.
“Can you hear them?” Pax snuggled between the eggs.
I wished I could. “No.”
My mate moved so we were spooning. “What if something goes wrong? There might be an earthquake and our babies’ protection will smash.”
While this area wasn’t prone to earthquakes, I understood his concern. Being parents meant being on constant alert.
“Don’t worry. If a tornado appears or a volcano erupts, I’ll shift and my beast will protect you and the eggs with his wings.”
“Volcano? What? I was just concerned about earthquakes, and now I’ve got three seismic events to worry about.”
Shoot, I’d upset him when I was trying to make a joke. My beast groaned and told me I was a fool. Pax’s shoulders shuddered, and a tiny sob had me rolling him over and holding him against me.
“I’m sorry.”
Pops stuck his head inside the structure and asked if everything was okay. I nodded, and he strode to his car. Not that there was much danger, but we didn’t want any nocturnal animals sniffing around the eggs.
The family had been taking shifts and keeping watch at the edge of the clearing. It made Pax feel better to know someone was always on guard. Garrett took over from Pops and was sitting on a log near the tree line.
Aunt Raine stopped by twice a day with food and supplies, and Dad came by to check the structure and make sure everything was holding up. Anderson and Stephen visited every afternoon after school. They sat by the nest and talked to the eggs about their day.
“I wish you were as anxious as I am.”
There was a lot to unpack in that sentence, and I was wary about how to answer. “I might not show it, but my belly is churning wondering when the eggs will crack and if our three baby dragons will have their wings.”
“What? They might be wingless?”
You’re upsetting him again. My dragon was annoyed and threatened to take his scales and comfort Pax himself.
Damn, I was messing up big time. “Sorry, babe, I should have said that we’d see their wings.” Perhaps I was more nervous than I thought.
“Tell me again what we’ll see.”
I’d related this many times, but the story comforted my mate.
We’d hear cracking first. There’d be little fractures in the shell as the baby dragons started to break through.
Then we’d see movement, and they’d push against the shell from inside.
Eventually, the shell would crack open enough to get out.
I added details about catching a glimpse of their scales. When dragons hatched they’d have their scales and wings, but only for a few seconds.
“They might be green or blue or even purple.” One of my cousins' beasts had yellow scales, though that was unusual.
“Do you think they can hear us?” Pax asked.
“I’m sure they recognize your voice because you carried them for months.”
Pax wanted to help the babies escape the shell, but I warned him against that. Just as with human babies, our tiny dragons would emerge when they were ready.
“What if they can’t get out?”
“They will.” It might take a little longer because they had a human dad, but they’d make it.
I pressured Pax to get some sleep, though both of us would be awake multiple times during the night. But as my mate lay in my arms, my eyes snapped open. Something had woken me, and I glanced outside to see Garrett reading by the fire. I shot up, and Pax did the same.
The only sound was my heart thumping in my ears, but a cracking sound pierced the silence. Pax gripped my arm.
“The eggs,” he whispered as we peered at the clutch.
It was one of them. We got on our knees and peered at our babies. The biggest egg had a visible fracture running down one side.
Pax clutched his hands. “I so want to help, even though I know I can’t.”
After another crack, a small piece of shell fell away, and I caught a glimpse of a tiny clawed foot.
Pax awed and then sobbed. “That’s our baby.”
More of the shell cracked as our firstborn made their way from inside. It was slow, and like my mate, I too wanted to rip the protective layer away and gaze at our little dragon.
Pax pointed at our second egg and slapped a hand over his mouth. Our second baby was fighting their way into the world too. And the third was also making an effort.
“They’re all working hard.” Pax was on his tummy, keeping an eye on all three babies.
“They can sense one another, so when one starts, the others usually follow.”
We waited for over an hour, watching our children on their journey into the world. Pax held my hand so tight, he would have broken a bone if I were a human. Not that I cared.
Our firstborn broke through and a tiny snout pushed through the opening. That was followed by a head and then the rest of the body, before they tumbled out of the shell into the nest.
Pax clung to me as we gazed at our little dragon with greeny-blue scales.
The dragon was small, about the size of a kitten.
The scales were soft, but when they reappeared in a few years, they’d be as hard as my beast’s.
Their wings were folded against their back, and when they opened their eyes, they were a brilliant green.
Our baby dragon is so beautiful. My beast produced dragon tears and sobbed.
Seconds later, the dragon vanished and a little girl was lying in the nest kicking her legs. Garrett was on hand to help, but I wanted our babies to scent us first.
With our daughter wrapped in a blanket in Pax’s arms, the second egg opened and another baby dragon emerged. This one was smaller, with scales that had a more golden tint, and their eyes were brown like my mate’s.
“Awww, they have my eyes.”
The dragon vanished. “A boy. We have a son.” I scooped him up
Our third little one was having a harder time, and Pax tensed and dug his nails into my palm. They were the smallest of the three, with green and gold scales, and we had a second daughter, also with green eyes.
With Garrett’s help, we settled in the nest and put the babies between us. He brought us tea and food, and the babies slept.
“I thought they’d want to feed first.” Pax was already anxious that our children weren’t eating enough.
But I explained they were tired and they’d be ravenous when they woke up.
“Can we go home soon?” my mate asked. “The nest has done its job, but I want to be in our house with the babies in their cribs. And I need a warm shower.”
I asked if he could wait until morning because a dragon baby’s first sunrise was special.
“Of course. I’d forgotten.”
Neither of us closed our eyes before dawn. We examined our children’s fingers and toes and expected them to wake whenever they stirred. But they slept until just before the sun rose, and we gathered them up and took them into the clearing.
All three of them gazed at the horizon as the first rays of sunlight peeked through the trees. They blinked as our family was bathed in light. The sun and the rest of the universe recognized our little ones, and I kissed Pax, and we held our children close.
As we strolled toward the car, the family arrived en masse with more food and the car seats we’d forgotten.
They offered to babysit at home while we showered and took a nap, but neither Pax nor I wanted to be separated from our children, so after bathing and getting into clean clothes, we brought the cribs into our room.
“Now I can sleep.” Pax climbed into bed beside me.
“I love you.’
“Love you right back.”