Chapter 19
Zaden
At every stop sign on the way from Z's place to Beck Manor, I caught myself squeezing the handlebars until they creaked, rehearsing the same two or three sentences in a loop. Hi. I’m Zaden. I’m your…? Father? Dad? Dragon? Dragon Daddy?
It was Wednesday and Krystal and I took the night off so Bryce and I could meet officially now that she told him I was his father. The dragon in me hummed with anticipation, but the rest of me was less eager, braced for a punchline or a door slammed in my face.
Beck Manor rose out of the woods with the kind of self-importance most houses could only dream of.
The drive was long, lined with chestnut trees that dropped spiky brown pods in spring, and the windows were always gleaming, as if the sun couldn’t bear to leave them alone.
I parked next to Ashton’s truck, killed the engine, and sat a minute with the engine cooling, trying to settle my nerves.
Aurelia had left the front door cracked. She knew all of us too well. This was damn hard. I took a few deep breaths, counted to ten, then took off my helmet and walked up, making sure my boots landed softly on the stone.
Aurelia stood in the entry, arms folded, all pale skin and black hair and the kind of expression that never quite let on if she was amused or just studying me.
She wore a soft-looking blue dress, but she’d paired it with combat boots and a ring of silver charms around one wrist. Her eyes were gold today, which meant she’d been working magic, or about to.
"On time for once," she said. "You good?"
I snorted. "Just nerves."
She stepped back, letting me pass. "They’re in the parlor."
The parlor looked like they'd brought in a professional cleaning crew. Sunlight washed over the velvet chairs, the old piano was open, and the glass coffee table had been wiped clean of fingerprints.
Krystal sat on the couch, one arm draped over Bryce’s shoulders.
She looked less tired than I’d seen her in months, but her eyes were tracking every move, her jaw tight.
Bryce, perched on the edge of the cushion, was smaller than I remembered, shoulders sloped, hands knotted in the hem of his t-shirt.
The light caught in his hair, picking out the auburn streaks, and a punch of recognition stole my breath.
He was a Roberts, and there was no undoing it. My heart, and dragon, soared. My son.
He tapped his heel on the floor in a stuttering rhythm, every few seconds matching it with the fingers of his right hand. The same way I did when I got nervous. The dragon in me had a rush of pride, and then the human weight of responsibility and fear pressed it down.
Aurelia didn’t waste time. "I’ll be close by if you need anything," she said, the words aimed more at Krystal than at me. "Just holler."
Krystal nodded, her lips pressed thin. She mustered a smile for Bryce, then shifted so she sat a little straighter.
I crossed the room and took the open chair across from them. I tried not to let the nerves show, but I could feel them in my jaw, in every word I lined up and rejected before it could hit the air.
Krystal didn’t make it weird. She just looked at Bryce, gentle but all business. "Bryce, this is Zaden. He’s your father."
No apology, no hedging. Just the facts.
Bryce didn’t flinch. He watched me with a seriousness that made him seem older than nine, his chin tipped up like he could see through every layer I’d ever built. His fingers slowed, but didn’t stop, the beat gone soft and tentative.
I almost spoke first, but he got there before me. "Do you really turn into a dragon?" he asked, the words coming out in a quick, breathless tumble.
The tension eased. I laughed, loud and honest, nothing like the bark I’d practiced a thousand times for strangers in the bar. "I do," I said, leaning forward. "Wings, tail, teeth, fire, the whole package."
His mouth shaped the start of another question, but he caught himself and glanced at Krystal. She gave a little nod, barely more than a flicker. Bryce’s attention snapped back to me.
"What’s it like?" he said, not as shy anymore. "Does it hurt?"
I shook my head. "Not when you’re used to it. At first, it’s weird, like every bone in your body wants to be somewhere else. Once you get the hang of it, it’s more like stretching after you’ve been cooped up too long."
He considered that, brow furrowed. "Can you fly?"
"Yeah," I said, proud. "Not for miles at a time, not unless I want to risk every camera in the county, but I can get up there. There's nothing like it."
Bryce’s next question came fast. "Do you breathe fire? For real?"
I grinned. "For real. Not in the house, though. I’d get grounded for life."
That earned a snort from Krystal. Bryce giggled, the sound bright and clear, and I felt something settle in my chest. He looked down at his hands, still drumming. "If I’m half dragon, does that mean I’ll get to shift, too?"
Krystal’s hand found his shoulder, steady. "We don’t know yet, bud. But you might. If it happens, you’ll have help from all of us."
I nodded, trying to make it true. "You’ll have the best mentors money can buy. Or, you know, dragons."
He liked that. "Are there any other kid dragons?"
I shook my head. "Not around here. You’d be the first in Stock Creek. But I had friends who had kids, back in the day. They’re grown now, but they weren’t much older than you when they had their first shift."
He took that in, then shifted in his seat. The drumming on his shirt hem picked up speed.
Krystal shot me a look, a soft warning, not sharp, but definite. I eased off. "Hey," I said to Bryce, changing gears. "What are you into? Music, sports, games?"
He hesitated, then said, "I like video games. Mom got me a Switch for Christmas, and I play with my cousin and friends a lot. And I like to play baseball."
I grinned at him. "I love baseball. Are you any good?" I leaned forward. "I'm pretty good, we could throw the ball around sometime."
He perked up. "I'm a good hitter but could be a better catcher."
"You got it. We can work on catching. Maybe you can help me with my hitting."
He nodded eagerly. "Sure, I can do that!"
The questions came slower now, each one more careful. "Do dragons get sick?"
"Not often," I said. "But we can catch some stuff. Usually, it just makes us cranky, not sick-sick."
He considered this, then, "Why do dragons hibernate?"
That one made me pause. I glanced at Krystal, who gave a little shrug to go ahead.
"Well, there’s a curse on the dragons," I said. "It means every so often, we have to sleep for a long time. Years, even."
He looked curious, not scared. "Did you hibernate when I was a baby?"
The gut-punch landed, but I didn’t let it show. "Yeah," I said, soft. "I missed a lot. I wish I hadn’t."
He went quiet, but the moment didn’t turn sad. He just nodded and went back to tracing little patterns on his shirt.
Krystal’s face was unreadable, but her eyes stayed on Bryce, always tracking, always ready.
I tried to lighten the mood. "You got any more questions, fire away. Otherwise, I’ll start telling embarrassing stories about dragons that can’t land without crashing into trees."
That got another giggle.
Bryce hesitated, then asked, "Would you show me sometime? The dragon?"
I nodded, relieved. "Anytime. Maybe not in the living room, though, Aurelia would kill me if I wrecked her sofa."
Aurelia’s voice drifted in from the hallway. "Mark my words, no dragons in the house."
Krystal snorted.
Bryce’s next question was half-whispered. "Did it scare you? The first time?"
I shook my head, honestly. "It surprised me. But it also felt right. Like suddenly, I knew what I was supposed to be."
His fingers had stopped drumming.
Krystal gave his shoulder a squeeze.
I let out a slow breath, letting the nerves bleed off. For the first time all week, I didn’t feel like I was standing on a trapdoor.
The talk drifted into smaller questions.
Favorite foods, what school was like, and whether dragons ever got in trouble for skipping chores.
I answered everything, keeping it light, careful not to overshare.
Every so often, I looked at Krystal, searching for a sign that I’d crossed a line, but she never stopped me.
If anything, she seemed to relax as the conversation found its own rhythm.
Bryce relaxed, too. His feet started to swing under the seat, the nervous energy turning into a low hum. Time stretched. The sunlight shifted, painting new shadows across the carpet. In another world, maybe we’d have stayed like that all day.
But for now, it was enough.
Krystal leaned back, letting her arm curl around Bryce’s shoulders. "You did good, B."
He looked at her, then at me. "I’m glad you’re here," he said, earnest. "I always wanted to know."
The words landed like a stone in my chest, heavy and perfect. "I wish I'd been there," I said. "Better late than never, right?"
Bryce nodded, satisfied.
Bryce had one last question, the kind that only a kid would ask. "If I turn into a dragon, can I keep my own room?"
"Absolutely," I said as both Krystal and I chuckled. "You might need a bigger bed."
I let the moment work its way into my memory. I’d replay it later, a hundred times, but right then, in the heart of the old house, with the sun warming the floorboards and the kid staring back at me with a piece of my own soul in his eyes, it felt like the start of something good.
Nothing ever stayed perfect. Not for long.
The way Vivienne floated into the room made it clear she’d been waiting for the right moment.
She carried a tray stacked with cookies, three kinds at least, all arranged in a way that would have made Martha Stewart sweat.
Her vintage dress flashed green and gold at the cuffs, every detail screaming "look at me," but she only had eyes for the kid.
"Am I interrupting?" she sang out, as if she hadn’t timed it just so.
Krystal forced a smile. "Just chatting."
Vivienne crossed the carpet in two smooth steps.
She set the tray on the side table, then bent down until her face was level with Bryce’s.
"I thought you might like a treat," she said, her words warm enough to melt butter. She reached out, fingers light on Bryce’s arm, the gesture casual but not random.
"My family recipe. Only the best for first meetings. "
The dragon inside me bristled. Something about the way she lingered, tracking every twitch and flicker of Bryce’s expression, set my instincts screaming. Her hand hovered a second too long, thumb tracing the curve of his elbow before she let go.
Bryce glanced at his mom, checking for approval.
Krystal nodded. "Go ahead, bud."
He picked a cookie, a plain sugar one, no frosting, then turned to Vivienne, manners on full display. "Thank you."
She beamed, her attention never wavering. "You’re very welcome, dear. It’s always wonderful to meet someone new, especially a friend of the family."
Bryce’s fingers drummed a tiny pattern on the plate. Vivienne watched it, eyes sharp. She straightened, finally, but didn’t step back. "How’s your day going, Bryce?"
He shrugged, chewing around the edges of the cookie. "Good. We’re talking about dragons."
Vivienne’s delight rang a little too bright. "Fascinating creatures, aren’t they? Did you know they can sense magic even when they’re asleep?"
He shook his head. "No. I didn’t know that."
She leaned closer. "Well, now you do."
Krystal’s eyes narrowed just a fraction, but she didn’t speak.
Vivienne let the silence stretch, her gaze flicking between mother and son with a proprietary air. I recognized the look. A hunter sizing up rare game. She ran the show for another beat, then turned to me, all false casual. "Zaden, you’re a lucky man. He’s clearly very special."
I managed a smile.
Vivienne finally stood and, with a last, lingering look at Bryce, excused herself. "I’ll be in the library, if anyone needs me. Enjoy." She glided out, her perfume trailing like smoke. From the hall, I heard the faint click of her heels and nothing else.
The room felt different, recharged but unsettled. Bryce finished the cookie but left the rest untouched.
Krystal was the first to break the post-Vivienne spell. "Are you still into music?"
"Always," I said, relieved for something normal. "I started with piano, but I’m better with my hands. Drums, mostly. Sometimes I think in rhythm."
Bryce perked up at that. "I do that, too! I get in trouble at school for tapping on the desk."
"Then your teachers don’t know what they’re missing," I said. "Have you ever played real drums?"
He shook his head. "No, but I want to."
"I’ll show you sometime. We can start easy—not too loud, don’t want to scare the neighbors."
He grinned, but then he winced, almost as if he’d bitten his tongue. He set the cookie down, both hands going to his temples.
Krystal noticed right away. She moved to his side, crouching so they were eye-to-eye.
"What’s wrong?" she said, brushing the hair off his forehead.
Bryce’s face was pale, the freckles stark. "My head hurts again," he whispered. "Worse than yesterday."
Krystal’s hand went to his cheek, checking for heat. "Are you feeling sick?"
He shook his head, but even that seemed to cost him. Up close, his eyelids fluttered, and his shoulders bunched like he was bracing for impact.
I shot Krystal a glance—Is this normal?—but she just shook her head, lips pressed flat.
"We should get you home," she said, her tone already shifting to full mom mode.
Bryce clung to her arm, eyes watering at the edges. "Sorry," he said. "I didn’t mean to ruin—"
"You didn’t ruin anything," I cut in. "Not even close."
Krystal helped him off the couch, one arm tight around his waist. He leaned into her, the energy from earlier folded away for now.
I kept my distance, not wanting to crowd them. But as they neared the door, I reached out and squeezed his shoulder, just enough to anchor the moment.
"We’ll do this again soon," I promised. "When you’re feeling better."
He nodded, a shy smile ghosting over his face. "I’d like that… Dad."
The word froze me where I stood.
Bryce held my eye for a second, then ducked behind Krystal’s side, spent but brave.
Krystal lingered a moment, her gaze softer. "Thanks for today."
"Anytime," I said.
They slipped out. The house felt emptier with them gone, shadows crowding in around the afternoon light.
I waited, alone with the promise of more. For once, I’d made the connection I was after. I let myself hope.
I had a son. And he was amazing.