Chapter Twelve
Gatlin
Gatlin knocked on the door to the Dior consulate estate.
The den of Drakes and their prized prince was a wonder among stags who, across the country, had all dreamed of sharing a Dette or having such a cohesive union.
So, when Karl, a Slang member of their polyamorous bond, opened the door, his eyes widened for a moment as his mouth stretched into a smile. “I suppose you’re looking for Gaz?”
The way he said it, like gatz, held a curl of caramel endearment.
“Among others. It’s lovely to see you, Brother.
” Gatlin opened his arms and gave the male a tight one-armed hug before he moved to Teige and then Viraj, eyes narrowed.
A hug did not extend to Viraj, but his gaze dipped and nose twitched.
Instead, he took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Welcome. It is good to see you again.”
Viraj didn’t meet his gaze. “Lovely to see you again, too, Karl. How is everyone? My nephews asleep?”
Karl twisted his lips. “They are at the Long consulate this evening. We’ll see them in the morning. Shui only had one blank and a light heat, so they volunteered since Ryan had a rather difficult time.”
“I hope he is well.” Viraj stared up at him, his shimmering eyes glinting with fear.
“Seven blanks. A few ruptured.” Klaus sighed. “Marc doesn’t like us doing the heat suppressants too many years in a row, so this was an off year for him.”
Viraj reached for the slack of fabric at his belly and flinched. “I’m sorry to hear.”
Karl’s nose twitched again. “But you… I suppose it’s none of my concern.”
Viraj shrugged. “Not like I can hide it at this point.”
Karl nodded and asked a question that Gatlin and Teige hadn’t thought to, the one they really should have. “So, you identify as a Drake?”
Viraj froze, mouth opening slightly. “I—I don’t know. I used to. I—didn’t know. Sort of.”
“I apologize for the rude questions. Come in.” Karl waved them in and Viraj spoke up.
“My dragon appears like a Drake. I thought I was one until certain things made me realize I wasn’t. And only recently did Gaspard figure out what I was. I suppose if I am a functional Dette, I will wear the title happily.” Viraj smiled.
“And if you are not?” Gaspard’s clipped step interrupted them as he approached, drying his hands on a cloth as if he’d just come from washing them.
“Does it matter?” Viraj glanced at Gaspard and his cheeks darkened with a flush.
“I suppose not. The only question is whether or not you want to be added to the Dette group text.” Gaspard smiled.
“I suppose I would.” Viraj offered a shy smile that made Gatlin’s heart melt.
“Come, come. We can smell it on you, Viraj.” Gaspard led them away.
“Smell what?” Teige stood beside Viraj and rested a hand on his back, urging him forward.
Gaspard and Karl chuckled as one. Gaspard, however, smirked. “You smell absolutely of bred Dette. The only question is if anything took.”
“I doubt it.” Viraj snorted and Karl coughed before excusing himself politely.
They walked as one to Gaspard’s study, which had an annex to the side with a small examination room.
Viraj followed orders as Gaspard excused himself with an order for Viraj to take his shirt off. “If it’s something more, we’ll check at your estate tomorrow where you can shift.”
Having another dragon shifted in his house with as many mates they had running about could cause tensions, Gatlin supposed. In any case, Viraj stripped his shirt and sat on the exam table, legs spread, arms dangling between them as he hunched over, self-conscious of his belly.
They waited a few minutes as Gaspard returned, a slight smile on his face. “I don’t even have to break out the ultrasound to know there’s eggs in there. Merde.”
Viraj crossed his arms and swallowed, cheeks growing ruddy with flush. “It could be just a little weight.”
“No, if it was weight, it’d be evenly distributed, and we’d see more along your hips.
That is abdominal distention. And from the position of your navel and that sweet scent you have, you’re gravid.
” Gaspard turned on an ultrasound machine, or what Gatlin supposed was one.
He’d seen them on television, after all.
The thing whirred and hummed to life, and Gaspard waved a hand dismissively before prodding at Viraj to lean back. Fingertips dug into flesh, below his navel, at his hip, and up into the slight swell. He spanned a hand from hip to hip, gauging the fullness. “Definitely in the gravid range.”
Gaspard squirted something blue, clear, and glistening onto Viraj’s belly and pulled the wand over, squinting at the grainy screen. “Aaaand…”
He quieted.
Viraj stared at the screen, the probe registering what might as well have been a sea of bubbles.
Some were darker than others. Some not.
Gaspard roved the device over his stomach a few times more. “Well. You’re gravid.”
“Pups?” Teige’s voice came out as a squeak.
“Potentially. Nothing is for certain until we have a hatching.” Gaspard pulled the probe away almost too fast and wiped Viraj’s stomach off with care.
The still-messy probe clicked onto a holster as a few images printed off, and he took them over to his desk, biting the lid off of a fine-tipped permanent marker as he sat, ticking off something on the image. “Odds are in your favor.”
“H-how many?” Gatlin’s throat went dry as Gaspard held up a hand and resumed studying the sheet.
“I—don’t know.” Gaspard stared at the image and glanced up at them. “I’ll have to bring Frikka Nielsen in to aid me, as his techniques are less invasive.”
“You have the image right there, how can you not tell?” Viraj sat up as his phone dinged loudly, followed by a half dozen others.
“I lost count at seven and I can’t tell because they’re so crowded. There are at least three blanks, and I’m frankly dumbfounded.” Gaspard dropped the ultrasound. “I swear to the gods, a Loch could impregnate a fucking rock if given a chance.”
Gatlin felt a little pride at that, but flinched as a loud, meaty, thump drew their gazes. “Teige?”
Their mate lay prone on the floor, flesh pale as milk, almost ashen. Gaspard stepped over, tiptoeing over Teige as he gave Viraj his shirt. “I don’t treat Drakes.”
Viraj slipped on his shirt and flinched when his phone continued to ding.