Chapter Twenty
Teige
A sharp cry woke Teige in the dead of night, a foot lashing out to crash into his side.
“Fack! M’wake!” Teige flailed about and patted through their blankets before catching a sharp scent of something metallic and meaty that drew him to full rousal. “Vivi?”
Viraj sat up in their bed in an odd sort of one-legged kneel, reminiscent of a yoga pose, one hand gripped fiercely to his side as he panted through what must have been horrible pain, tears streaming his cheeks.
“Gat! Wake the fuck up, toll-tòine!” Their meaty lug of a mate rolled over with a groan, hazel eyes flashing awake like amber and emeralds.
“Vivi?” Teige scooted across their custom mattress, skin gliding over silken sheets that clung damply to his legs, rapidly cooling as Viraj trembled in place. “Is it—”
“No, I just pissed myself! What do you fucking think?” Viraj doubled over with a snarl of pain, and Teige took the moment to slip from their bed. “I didn’t want to do this here!”
Teige and Gatlin locked eyes for a fierce glare at one another.
“Neither did we,” Gatlin said. “We made the perfect nest for you.”
Teige scooped Viraj into his arms, his mate dripping a mixture of metallic blood and fluid.
It was getting on the rug, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to Teige was his mates. “Call Gaspard and Bastien.”
Teige marched off toward their vault, the treasure there meager and the nest more concrete than marble. Gatlin had at least had the sense to bring in a great deal of satin and Spanish moss short notice. A soft and safe space. The best they could hope for.
Two familiar faces, shadows of dragons dressed in white, rushed up to them as Teige marched forward with Viraj in arms. Karam spoke first, wringing his hands. “Is he…”
“Yeah.” Teige leaned down to give Viraj a kiss as he winced through the pain.
“Gatlin. May we please have a word before you entomb yourselves?” Mahava’s heart thundered in his chest, audible even to Teige’s ears.
“Thank you for your concerns.” Teige nodded and Gatlin hung back.
As Teige and Viraj entered the chamber, the doorbell rang and they froze. It was three in the fucking morning.
Gatlin, glancing down at his phone, turned toward Teige and Viraj. “It’s Leo, and Gaspard is with him…and Cinder?”
The little Dette had the ken of things, so Teige’s concern melted away.
For that part, at least.
Gaspard caught up with them, a flurry of hands and perfunctory touch as he aided Viraj from his clothing. “I hate it when the fluid sac ruptures before they shift. This is how infections start.”
Viraj half sobbed as he curled into the moss and strained, working against his body, bloodstained thighs and bottom scaling up far too slowly. “I really wish I could have held out a little—” Longer.
As graceful as anything, Viraj’s shift stretched his body, his rounded sides and belly full and drum taut. Gaspard shook his head and tisked while kicking off his shoes to enter the nest and feel over Viraj’s belly.
“Teige. Gloves.” Gaspard rubbed a strong, alcohol-scented fluid onto his hands from some bottle in one of his many pockets and tucked it away.
Teige rummaged in Gaspard’s bag and pulled out a thick pair that went to his elbows, flinching as Gaspard rolled them on and manipulated Viraj’s hefty tail, the appendage thicker than his own body, but negligible for a Drake’s strength.
Viraj should have snarled or fought back, but he only lay there, huffing and flinching as Gaspard did the doctor-y thing.
Fingers and a whole arm were involved and beyond all reason, Teige felt nothing but fear for Viraj’s health and safety.
Gaspard truly had a gift. And it was a shame that for so many generations, they denied Dettes the right to become healers.
His gift, so rare and special, had taken a lifetime to hone.
“It’s not as bad as it seems, I don’t believe.
There’s going to be blood with this many eggs and blanks.
” Gaspard pulled back and gestured at Teige until he searched the bag and procured a hand towel and a bag for the gloves to be disposed of.
“But you need to shift and get in there. Thank gods there’s two Drakes here, because I think we’ll need you both to work through this.
Fortunately, I have firsthand experience with all aspects of this maneuver. ”
Teige nodded and stripped his clothing, tossing it haphazardly on the floor in a way that Viraj was sure to berate him for at a later date.
He needn’t have asked twice, because Teige’s dragon took over, mossy-green scales rippling over his body as he slid in behind Viraj, nuzzling and crooning over his laboring mate. I am here.
Where is our other?
Teige buried his snout under Viraj’s chin and lifted his tail, the process instinctual, wrapping around Viraj’s to tug back, lifting his hips into a comfortable position.
He is coming. Settling our guests.
Viraj snarled, tail jerking against him as his entire body clenched up, a wet squelch mixing in with the harsh breaths and a strangled cry.
“Well, that’s good news!” Gaspard hurried himself with another pair of gloves and searched about for a stack of towels that had been left out. He dove into the nest once more with a towel and retreated as Viraj slackened, his body shivering as if he were cold. “First blank.”
Gaspard set something to the side, the towel edge falling away to reveal a muted crimson shell with a wrinkled and folded texture. “Still whole, too.”
“On my way!” Gatlin jogged in, face flushed, expression complex. He stood in place, uncertain of what to do until Gaspard ordered him to shift and join Teige.
He obeyed, his dragon pacing a few times as Gaspard ordered him to use his tail not with Teige’s as his dragon would demand, but to squeeze with gentle pulses under Viraj’s rib cage, keeping things compact and in place.
So, by the time Gatlin figured it out and wrapped his tail, a single squeeze was all it took for Viraj to cry out once more, passing another blank that Gaspard carried away.
“Now, according to my files, we have the first egg, next. Your dragons know what to do, so slip into your minds if you can, boys. Keep him comfortable.” Gaspard patted Viraj’s flank and offered them a terse smile.
And so they pulled inside their minds, leaving their dragons to handle the most natural thing a mated den would ever do.
Aside from eating, that is.