Chapter Twenty-Three
Griffith
The nest was the focal point of our life. Our omega stayed on it nearly every moment, only leaving when nature called, or we begged him to take a shower. Dad said it was normal dragon behavior, even though Kyle wasn’t a dragon.
He’d built it from just about every pillow in the house before laying the eggs and settling in for the duration.
Relief had filled me when he laid them because he’d been growing more uncomfortable every day.
Falkan was probably a little easier about the process, having grown up around people who laid eggs, but bears didn’t usually do that.
All had gone well, and we’d settled in, making a new routine that had us spending nearly all our time in the room with him while he kept watch over the eggs.
Our omega was the best papa, but I worried that he was wearing himself out, only allowing us to take care of the eggs while he was in the restroom or shower.
Finally, the midwife told us they could hatch any day now.
They weren’t sure precisely due to the mixed parentage of the eggs, but we were all watching them now for any signs of movement.
I was half asleep on the floor next to the nest when Falkan, who was sitting in a chair nearby, cried out and jumped to his feet.
Kyle came flying out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. Everything is right!” Falkan pointed at the nest. “One of the eggs moved!”
“Which one?” Kyle was already on the nest, studying the pair of eggs.
“This one.” Pointing, Falkan was also trembling. “We’re about to be fathers.”
Except no eggs moved for the next hour or the one after that or the one after that.
After a while, Kyle went back in the bathroom and dressed, but he returned quickly and took up his vigil again.
The intensity grew with each passing moment.
We’d called the midwife who said the movement was to be expected and while it was a sign that the eggs were maturing, it didn’t mean that it had to be today.
But we couldn’t look away. If we hadn’t been concerned that our omega not miss a meal, we wouldn’t have eaten at all. I went down to the kitchen and made a big plate of sandwiches to carry us over. “Anything happen while I was gone?”
“No.” Kyle looked up from where he was hovering over the eggs. “But it’s going to be soon. I know it is. And my wolf is sure of it.”
“Then it will be.” I held the plate up to him. “Eat while you have the chance.”
He took one, but probably only to please me.
I didn’t care why he did it as long as he ate.
Falkan and I each picked one up, too, and we all sat, chewing and swallowing and watching the eggs.
Just before midnight, the other egg moved.
It was subtle, and I only saw it because I was paying such close attention, but the next side-to-side was bigger.
Soon, both eggs were rocking, and a tapping noise came from inside.
Our babies were in there, and I wanted so much to get them out.
But the midwife had cautioned against it, telling us not to do anything but watch unless they got partway out and then couldn’t finish.
Something about the need to do it themselves affecting their immune systems. At least that was what I thought they’d said.
But I knew for sure we weren’t supposed to help them, and it had my fists curling and uncurling in my palms.
“I can’t stand watching them struggle,” I moaned.
“I know.” Kyle buried his face in his hands. “I can’t stand it.”
“We’re doing the right thing,” Falkan said. “But I feel the same way.”
As we sat there, itching to help, the first crack appeared in the egg on the left.
We collectively gasped, transfixed as each fragment and shard fell away to reveal a creature out of fantasy.
She stood on the nest, flapping short, shiny wings, but the body that supported them was not covered with scales but dark fur.
Like my bear. “She’s both of us.” I flung my arms around my dragon mate. “A dragon bear.”
“Or a bear dragon,” he said, patting my hand. “I’ll pick her up.” We weren’t supposed to help her out of the shell, but I agreed there was no reason to keep her standing in the shards. “What shall we call her?”
“Ginger.” Our omega’s voice was strong. “She’s Ginger.”
Falkan touched the little creature, and she was instantly replaced by a little girl with strawberry-blonde hair. Ginger. How had Kyle known?
But I didn’t have any more time to wonder because the other egg was rocking, frantically, and the tapping from inside held a note of panic.
Help him.
My bear wanted me to do what we were told not to.
“My dragon says we have to help.”
“And my wolf.”
All three of our animals were in agreement. “But we aren’t supposed to do that,” I protested, even though it was the one thing I wanted to do. “What if it hurts him?”
“Our animals would never do that,” Falkan asserted. “Look at it move. Ginger was making holes in the shell with her beak already.” He cuddled the little girl close to his chest, carefully supporting her head. “There has to be some reason our animals are alarmed.”
“I think I know.” I touched the egg, stroked it. “What if the baby is not a dragon? What if it’s a wolf or bear and doesn’t have anything to use to break out of the shell? I say we listen to our animals.”
Falkan handed the baby to our omega. “I’m calling the midwife.
” He left to find his phone on the charger in the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a tablespoon in his hand.
“We can help, but as little as possible. If there is no beak, he might be trapped. Here is what the midwife said to do…”
They were also on their way but feared that they might not be in time.
“Okay.” Falkan swallowed hard. “I’ll do this.”
“I can if you like,” I offered.
“I will.” He approached the egg and covered it with his palm. “Baby, this is only because I love you, so please don’t write a tell-all about how your daddy beat your egg with a spoon before you were born.” Having said that, he tapped on the shell softly. It made not so much as a dent.
“Harder, I think,” I said. “I’ll take a turn.”
We went back and forth about four times before Kyle laid the baby among the bedclothes and grabbed the spoon. “You come out right now, baby,” he growled. “It’s not safe for you to stay in there.” One sharp rap started down the middle of the shell and he set the spoon down. “That should do it.”
We watched anxiously, in case we had to intervene further, but a moment later, the shell shattered explosively, sending bits everywhere, And where it had stood, lay the tiniest, most adorable maned wolf ever.
“When we touch him, he’ll shift,” Falkan whispered. “And we won’t see him again for a while.”
“But we will see our baby. I can’t wait.”
“Okay.”
I scooped up the tiny wolf and kissed him on the nose. He nipped at me then shifted. His name was Timber.
Were there ever any luckier alphas? The midwife examined the bits of shell and said we did it perfectly and just in time. We’d saved our son. Really our omega had. He had saved the day.