Chapter 36
RONYN
I wake with a jolt, the awareness of something missing pulling me upright before I’m even fully awake.
Aura had fallen asleep next to me, her warmth pressed close, but now she’s gone.
The bed is still warm where she was. The sheets carry the scent of honey, jasmine, and the gentle magic that lingers on everything she touches, but she isn’t here.
I jump out of bed, alert and searching. The penthouse is quiet, city lights shining through the tall windows. It’s so late that even the streets below are quiet. Kelan and Darial are still asleep, so I leave the bedroom to look for her.
I hurry along the hallway and toward the light in the kitchen.
At first, I’m relieved.
Then concern follows.
She’s on the floor, on her hands and knees, her hair hanging around her face, breathing in quick, shallow bursts. Her white shift clings to her.
“Aura—”
Seeing her so small and vulnerable makes fear rush through me.
She glances up quickly. “Don’t—” Her voice catches. She swallows. “Don’t call them yet.”
I stop halfway into the room. The lights are dim but sweat gleams on her forehead. One hand is pressed to the cool floor, the other rests low on her belly.
“Is it—?” I start.
She nods once. “I think so.”
She’s in labor.
The realization hits me all at once and instinct surges through me to call Kelan and Darial, but Aura shakes her head again before I can move.
“Please,” she whispers. “Not yet. I don’t want… I don’t want everyone watching. I need… a minute. Some quiet.”
Her eyes are bright with a deep, private intensity that makes my heart ache with understanding.
She’s used to handling pain by herself. She gave birth to Ahya alone.
I understand what she wants, even if it scares me.
I don’t know much about dragon births, and I know nothing about human ones.
My friends don’t either. None of us understands what to expect.
“All right,” I say softly. I grab a fur throw and bring it to her. I kneel and gently help her move into a sitting position so her knees don’t bruise.
“I’m here,” I soothe. “Just me. You won’t be alone.”
A contraction comes, making her shoulders tense and her breath catch. She closes her eyes and waits for it to pass, her fingers gripping the fur.
“Breathe,” I murmur. “That’s it. I’ve got you.”
I slide an arm around her shoulders as she leans into me. She’s warm. Alive. Powerful. The magic inside her flickers against my skin like a second heartbeat.
“It doesn’t hurt much,” she says after a moment, almost surprised. “Not like with Ahya. It’s… pressure.”
“That’s good,” I say, even though I have no idea if this is normal. None of us do.
Another wave passes. Then another.
And then she gasps softly.
“I think… Ronyn…”
I help her move, supporting her as she sits back against the cabinets. The first egg comes quickly, easier than I thought it would. It’s smooth and warm in my hands, about the size of an orange, maybe a bit bigger.
It’s dark, glossy and black.
Kelan’s.
I stare at it, shocked.
Aura exhales, a shaky laugh escaping her. “Oh my god…”
Before I can react, another contraction comes, softer this time. The second egg appears soon after, glowing faintly gold, warmth coming from its shell like sunlight.
Darial’s.
Then the third egg arrives. It’s the same deep scarlet of my scales. Its shell has delicate scalloped patterns that catch the light like armor.
Mine.
For a long moment, the kitchen is quiet except for Aura’s breathing and the soft pulse of the three small lives between us.
She gathers them from me into her arms, as if they might break. They glow in response to her touch, to the sound of her voice when she whispers to them. The light inside them pulses softly and rhythmically, as if they already know her.
“They’re real…” she says in wonder. “They’re alive.”
“Of course they are,” I reassure, though my throat is tight. I’ve fought wars and faced terrible pain, but I’ve never felt anything like this.
I reach out and touch the red shell. Heat seeps into my palm.
“How long…?” she asks quietly. “How long until they hatch?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But we’ll keep them warm. That’s what matters.”
I rush to find a cloth which I soak with warm water.
With gentle hands, I clean Aura and the eggs, then I take them from her, one by one, and hold them against my chest. Instinct takes over.
My dragon awakens, heat rising as my breath warms the shells.
I curl around them, protecting them with my body and wings.
Aura watches, her eyes exhausted but shining in the low light.
“You’re already such a good father,” she murmurs.
A good father? It isn’t something I ever imagined I’d be, but I want this deeply. I want to know our children and protect them as fiercely as I do Aura. I lean forward and rest my forehead against my mate’s.
“You did this,” I whisper roughly. “You brought them into the world.”
My hand slides to her face, cradling her jaw with reverence I have never shown another living thing. I kiss her slowly, my gratitude making my hand tremble.
“Thank you,” I breathe against her lips. “For my child. For all of them.”
She touches my face and smiles, and I close my eyes at the rush of love that pushes against my ribs like an inflated balloon.
“Stay with them,” she says, pushing herself carefully to her feet, leaning on the counter for balance. “I should wake Kelan and Darial,” she says. “They’ll want to know.”
“Are you sure? I can go.”
“I’m actually fine.” She smiles. “You take care of them. Keep them warm.”
She moves slowly toward the bedroom, and soon I hear footsteps rushing back. Kelan arrives first, wide-eyed, and naked. Darial follows, his hair messy and his face stunned.
They stop in the doorway, staring at the three eggs in my arms.
Aura approaches behind them, pale but radiant.
For a moment, none of us says anything.
Then Kelan crosses the room in two strides and drops to his knees beside me, trembling hands hovering before he dares touch the black shell. Darial sinks down on the other side, awe written across his face as he reaches to touch the golden one.
“They’re… okay?” Darial whispers.
“Yes,” I say. “They are.”
Kelan’s composure fractures first. He rises and pulls Aura into his arms with a rough, shaking breath. He buries his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, as if to reassure himself she is real and whole.
“You carried my heir,” he murmurs, voice thick. “You endured this for us.”
He cups her face and kisses her hard, then again, and then more gently, his thumb wiping away her happy tears.
Darial joins them, sliding a hand around Aura’s waist, pressing a kiss on her temple.
“You’re extraordinary,” he says quietly. “You rewrote our fate.”
He lowers to his knees and presses his lips to her abdomen where the swell had been. “Thank you for my child.”
We all gather close, each of us holding what we’ve created together. Their warmth fills the room, and something inside me that I didn’t know was missing falls into place.
I pull Aura between us, careful with the eggs, and we sit in a circle on the kitchen floor, dragons, mate, and new life at the center. Our foreheads touch hers. Our hands find her skin. Aura watches us with our eggs, tears in her eyes, but smiling.
“This,” she says, voice thick with emotion. “This is the happiest I’ve ever been.”
A gentle, full silence settles around us.
Then her expression softens, becoming thoughtful and a bit wistful.
“I need to see Ahya,” she says quietly. “I need to see my daughter. I need to talk to her parents.”
I look up at her, then at the egg in my arms, then back again, and I understand why she’s telling us now.
Ahya is family, and too much remains unresolved.
Our mate is becoming a mother again, and it’s natural for buried feelings to rise to the surface.
I don’t know what it’ll mean. Will she want to take the child from the wolves?
If she did, I’d support her, but I’d regret having to fight good men and destroy the heart of a good woman.
There is no easy way to separate when love is involved.
I look at my mate’s beautiful, glowing face. Her hands rest on her belly, as if she’s surprised it’s no longer round. In my arms, my egg pulses slowly, like a resting child’s heartbeat. I lift it to my lips and kiss the shell gently as love rises inside me.
Aura needs to face everything she’s kept inside about Ahya. She must make a choice that will affect all of us, and I’ll be there to support her, no matter what she decides.
“We’ll go,” I tell her. “When you’ve rested and you’re ready. We’ll go together.”
This time, she won’t need to face it alone.