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She squealed when he came up to her and lifted her dress.

“What are you doing!? Get out from under there you perverted scoundrel!” She tried to push him away. “Our son is watching!”

“Quiet Amalia, I wish to sense for something.”

Once he was under the skirt of her dress, he tried to scent her stomach. His eyes widened. She indeed smelt slightly different – a barely noticeable change.

He filled his skull with magic so that he could change his sight to view the tendrils of magic. He could see hers as well as another’s. He couldn’t see the spell he had to place on her once a year – the one that prevented her from getting pregnant.

Did I forget to place it?He winced. He should have done it quite some time ago, a few weeks, perhaps even a month. It wasn’t the first time he had forgotten, but he usually remembered... eventually.I have taken her recently in my Dragon form.Which would have guaranteed her pregnancy.

“No wonder you have been foul with me!” he yelled before bringing his head out from under her skirt to face her. “I have forgotten to replace the spell.”

Amalia rolled to sit up with her brows furrowing.

“Wait, that is why I have been feeling unwell?”

Much to Rurik’s pleasure, her body required dragoncraft to carry a child that would be born from both of them. It would drain her witchcraft otherwise, sapping it from her to compensate and leaving her weak.

It took them a while to realise this at first.

“Blasted! Not another one.”

Rurik groaned as he fell onto the bed face first next to her.

“Ha! You did not want another, but I did and then you forgot. You have no one else to blame but yourself.”

She’d been hounding him about it for the last five years.

Indeed, she was right.

He could feel it, a fit of rage about to burst from the seams.

“If you could,” he tried to say calmly while rising to his knees with the intention of leaving. “Make it a girl... because I do not think I can handle another son.”

Perhaps he would be calmer with a daughter. She would remind him of Amalia, and she might soothe him whereas their son often got under his scales.

His son was playful, but he was a male. Rurik didn’t often think him cute, whereas Amalia was adorable with her feminine giggles and attempts to stare him down like she could best him. When his son tried to playfully go toe-to-toe with him, he often wanted to throw him across the room for trying to be more dominant than him.

Rurik got to his feet and walked to the entryway to their alcove. He palmed Haelan’s back to push him forward into the room.

“Stay with your mother. I need to vent.”

He began to walk down the tunnel to make his way to the cavern with the stream before it exploded from him.

They were right. I do not have the patience for children.And he was about to have another, meaning his time with them would be prolonged.

Rurik was excited, he didn’t completely regret this. It would be something else for him to love, to protect, to watch as it interacted with its mother – those moments often filling him with contentment and joy.

He just wanted to keep his Amalia selfishly to himself. He was tired already of being restricted and having to be understanding of something that was learning.

Not even halfway down his lair, he gave a bellowing roar in frustration, nobody else to be angry with but himself. Amalia’s giggles at him echoed down the tunnels.

Blasted!