Chapter Twenty-Two
Gatlin
Leo, Cinder, and Gaspard sat on the threshold of the family wing; the child and his father tousled and dressed in loungewear, dark circles under their eyes.
“Sup?” Leo offered a half grin as Gaspard swept in, giving Gatlin a long stare before traipsing off.
“Who called you?” The only thing Gatlin could think fell free from his lips in a tumble.
“I did!” Cinder beamed.
Leo glanced around and dipped in uninvited, probably violating a dozen treaties, but Gatlin couldn’t have cared less, eager to get back to his mates.
“I need to—” Gatlin started before Leo cleared his throat as he shut the door.
“I don’t know if it’s wise to say anything but… Uh.” Leo huffed as Cinder beamed up.
“Ass-wind died!”
Gatlin’s heart skipped a beat as Karam and Mahava glanced at one another, relief painted over their pale faces.
“What, h—” Not that Gatlin particularly cared the how of the situation…
“I’ve been instructed by both Frikka and Gaspard to say…” Leo covered Cinder’s ears. “He broke into the Nielsen estate to overindulge with nestblossoms and in his old age and fickle virility… Stroke… Listen, he hopped himself up on nestblossoms, overdosed, freaked out, and died.”
Gatlin narrowed his eyes as Leo lifted his hands from Cinder’s ears. The gesture entirely performative.
“Uncle Gatlin, can you and Uncle Teige make this into a bracelet for me?” Cinder held up a blood-crusted silver nail—the ones that they put into the Hijada.
Gatlin slowly took the trinket, turning it over in his fingers, sniffing—Drake blood, fresh.
Cinder’s expression went cold and blank for a blink that made Gatlin’s heart clench.
“No Dette should have to—witness such a thing. Let alone a child.” Gatlin sank down as he pocketed the nail. He placed his hands on Cinder’s shoulders and offered him a proper hug that the little one accepted with a little hum of joy.
And for but a moment, the little one leaned into Gatlin’s hug and spoke in a small whisper. “And I shouldn’t have to, but I’ll do it again and again until they learn their lessons.”
Welp, if any motivation existed for a Drake to behave, that was it right there.
“Understood, little wise one.” Gatlin parted from Cinder and huffed.
“Probably should tell Uncle Viraj. I bet he’ll be real happy and it’ll make things easier. At least that’s what my dream told me.” Cinder parted, adopting an aloof expression. “We’re going to stay for the night!”
We must stay very far away from this little one in the future, Gatlin’s dragon whispered ever so meekly.
“Would you two like to relax in our recreation room for a while? Play some video games or watch TV? Nap?” Gatlin offered a smile to the two and gestured for Karam and Mahava to escort them. “Get them snacks, drinks, anything they want. Rest and relax, all of you.”
Leo clapped him on the shoulder. “Sometimes another Dette there helps. Call if I’m needed. Bastien will be there soon, too. We’ll get the door.”
Gatlin nodded once and took off running to their vault, ready to face Gaspard and his struggling mate. He only hoped that Viraj hadn’t started laying.
***
I’m going to rip so far open I only have one hole down there! Viraj solidified in the empty space of their minds as the three cradled together.
You only have the one hole… Gatlin flinched when Teige slapped his arm, the gesture near painless in their minds.
I’m still pissed at you! Taking your sweet-ass time to fuck with my asshole of a shit-ass father! Viraj’s words were cruel, but he still accepted their arms around him, hands stroking his belly, sides, and thighs with soothing touches.
Gatlin hesitated, mouth opening and closing a few times before he huffed. Ashwin had an inkling you’d be laying, and he left the estate and tried to abscond with the nestblossoms at the Nielsen estate and overdosed on them.
Teige stared up in horror. Did he hurt anyone?
Not that I know of. Leo just told me he went mad and died. Gatlin reached out to cup Viraj’s stunned face.
How does one overdose on nestblossoms? Viraj wheezed through a particularly vicious wave of pain and shook his head madly.
My understanding is that any number of ill-gotten nestblossoms from the Nielsen estate is far too many. Gatlin left words hanging in the air unsaid as Viraj cried out and doubled over.
Dimly, their dragons sent images of an egg, a beautiful swirl of crimson, and sage like a dragon’s blood jasper, cradled in Gaspard’s arms in a towel as he moved it within their sight but far enough away not to trample or roll atop.
From Viraj’s dragon, a roar of joy crooned forth. Little one, your name is chosen. You will accept it in time. Revel. For you were born at the moment of my greatest celebration!
Only time would tell if the little one accepted the name.
But Gatlin knew he would.