Page 26

26

Saffron

“So, I add the eggs. Then I add the water?” Rorik asked as he stood behind the kitchen island. His brow was furrowed in his characteristic bear-like frown of concentration.

I watched him with an amused smile from the opposite side of the bar. Our egg rested in my lap, cradled by a baby blanket—courtesy of Taylor, of course. He leapt at the opportunity to make custom quilts, especially now that Ruby was older and could get involved with his dad’s favorite hobby. Mostly by dragging fabrics all over the floor.

Aurum waved his spatula. “Yeah, and don’t forget the melted butter.”

“No, no,” Crimson interjected. His apron—again, thanks to Taylor—depicted his red dragon form juggling a bunch of chicken eggs. “Use milk instead of water. More calories, but richer flavor.” Shooting me a glance, he added, “And I know Saffron likes it when you pack on the calories.”

I grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

“That makes sense,” Rorik agreed, examining the small cup of melted butter. “Okay, I add all the wet ingredients, then mix the dry ones…”

“Don’t forget the baking powder,” Cobalt chimed in. He was a griller, not a baker, but as the eldest, he couldn’t resist floating over to offer his help. Although at this point, there were four cooks in the kitchen, and you know what they say about that. “I did that once, and my pancakes turned out denser than rocks.”

Rorik nodded. “I added it. And I made sure it was baking powder, not baking soda.”

Cobalt flashed a proud smile and patted him on the back. “Good job.”

A smile of my own broke out across my face. Watching Rorik get along with my brothers was beyond heartwarming. After a rocky start, he fit right in with our odd little family. Actually, at this point, it was a big family. And it would be even bigger when our egg hatched.

I downed the rest of my coffee—egg-sitting duty was tiring work, and I needed to be alert—then set my mug down, calling out, “Can I get some service here? Another coffee, please!”

Aurum waved the spatula impatiently over his shoulder. “Settle down, dude, we’re busy. Now, Rorik, take this spatula and stir it…”

“You have to fold the mixture,” Crimson insisted, peering over Rorik’s bowl.

“What does that mean?” Rorik asked.

“You know. You fold it. Like folding a shirt.”

Rorik frowned in confusion. “I don’t do that. I just toss my clothes straight in the drawer.”

Crimson paled like he’d just received terrible news. “Oh. Excuse me, I need to go sit down…”

With a heaving sigh, my fashion-obsessed brother slumped on the bar stool next to mine. Rubbing his temples, he muttered, “Rorik doesn’t fold his shirts… Do you know about this?”

I snorted. As if my precious bear should waste his time folding laundry. “Hey, at least he has shirts now,” I pointed out. “Remember when he showed up naked?”

Apparently, lacking clothes was even worse than wrinkled ones. Crimson was so distraught he nearly sobbed. Thankfully, Taylor noticed his drama king mate’s torment, strode over, and kissed his cheek.

“Come on,” Taylor said, looping his hand into the nook of Crimson’s arm. “Why don’t we go teach the kids how to fold shirts?”

That was definitely not happening, but my brother was happy to abandon his seat at the offer. I chuckled as Taylor led Crimson to the babysitting zone—AKA, the ring of couches by the kitchen reserved for family breakfast. The people on standby, not cooking or dishing out coffee, hung out there with the kids while waiting to eat.

We’d started calling it the babysitting zone since, when the kids were present, our job involved making sure none of them wandered over to where their uncles were cooking. As adorable as it would be, you didn’t want a baby dragon gnawing on your leg while you tried to flip an omelet.

Ever since Rorik expressed an interest in cooking, my brothers jumped at every opportunity to help teach him. It was sweet of them, of course. I only hoped they didn’t overwhelm him with their chaotic infodumps. Especially Crimson. What the fuck was folding , anyway?

Since Rorik was busy cooking, I took the egg and plopped onto the couch with everybody else. Thystle and Matteo chuckled under their breaths at Crimson’s comical misery while Taylor attempted to distract his mate by complimenting his suit. It worked. On the other couch, Jade enjoyed a steaming cup of tea in one hand while the other curled around Alaric, who nestled against him like a sleepy housecat. On the floor, Muzo and Mylo amused the kids by shifting into their animal forms and knocking over stacked blocks, pretending to be giants destroying a city. This earned squeals of laughter from the kids. They loved anything over-the-top and silly.

I noticed Viol sitting on the furthest end of the couch, looking somewhat grumpy. Usually it was his job to entertain the kids. Was he jealous? Or did the fictitious city-destroying game hit a little too close to home?

Suddenly, I felt bad for him. I still didn’t know the full story of what he’d done, and I was afraid to ask, but I didn’t want my older brother to wallow in guilt the way Rorik had done.

“Hey, how about we play a different game now?” I suggested.

The kids sprang up with cries of excitement. Their short attention spans appreciated the change of pace. Muzo and Mylo looked relieved that someone else was taking over amusement duty. From the corner of my eye, Viol seemed relieved, too.

“What, are you gonna haul a TV in here so they can watch a movie?” Crimson suggested. He still sounded salty that I didn’t care about folding shirts. Well, too bad. He was about to get even saltier.

I grinned. “Nope. We’re gonna have a singalong.”

That got Thystle and Matteo’s attention instantly. They sat up as if struck by lightning.

“What song?” Matteo asked. His eagle eyes flashed with passion.

Thystle pulled out his phone, frantically opening his music streaming library. “Wait, I’ll get the backtrack. Okay, go.”

“’Let It Snow’ from Ice Princess ,” I told him.

From the kitchen, I heard the most tortured groan of all time, followed by Rorik’s amused chuckle.

“No!” Aurum wailed. “Anything but that!”

But it was too late. His cries of agony were drowned out by the kids’ ecstatic squeals. Hell, I doubted they cared about the actual film that much, but an upbeat, catchy song from an animated movie was enough.

“Hey, what about me?” Rorik called from the kitchen, sounding genuinely pouty. “I want to sing along, too.”

Cobalt gave him an assuring nod. “You’ve done most of the work here. I’ll take over for a few minutes. Go have fun.”

My mate grinned, then ran over with childlike joy, plopping next to me on the couch while careful not to nudge the egg in my lap. Seeing that unfiltered exuberance on his face made my heart soar. When we first met, he never smiled like that. I was glad those days were in the past. Rorik could finally be his true self.

“Everyone ready?” Thystle asked. He turned the volume up and hovered his finger on the button. “I’m starting the karaoke backtrack… now.”

A familiar tune filled the kitchen. I felt Rorik wriggling with excitement beside me. Matteo had already stood up and run a hand through his hair, letting it fall across his forehead in the typical fashion of Aquila, his performance alter-ego. Thystle fixed his obsessive gaze on his mate.

As the lyrics started, Rorik, Matteo, and I joined in. Obviously, Matteo had the best voice—he was a professional, after all. The oldest kids, Ruby and Heather, knew some of the words, so they sang along, too. Lazuli, Kiara, and Desiree swayed to the beat. Mint was too young to do anything but stare in wonder at the music filling the air. Jade and Alaric were too cool for singalongs, so they watched their son with warm smiles.

The music swelled. Matteo belted out the chorus so beautifully it gave me chills. Maybe he should’ve been the Ice Princess instead.

But my favorite singing belonged to Rorik. It was clunky and inexperienced, but deeply earnest. He sang from the heart. And it was his heart I loved the most.

As the final line of lyrics ended and the melody descended to its conclusion, I turned to Rorik and pressed a kiss to his lips. He smiled and kissed me back.

When the music stilled, the kids cheered. Our performance earned a round of applause from Jade and Alaric, and—to my surprise—a few claps from Aurum in the kitchen.

“What?” Aurum said when I shot him a confused look. “The song’s annoying, but you guys were good.”

“Especially you,” Thystle purred at Matteo, giving him a look that should’ve been reserved for the bedroom.

Matteo let out a cool chuckle. He brushed a strand of hair out of Thystle’s flushed face. “I’ll sing it for you anytime.”

I cleared my throat. “Hey, this kitchen is rated PG, okay? Take it upstairs if you’re gonna get freaky.”

A loud gasp came from Viol, who abruptly bolted upright. At first I thought he was upset about me censoring Thystle and Matteo’s love until Viol cried, “The egg!”

My heart pounded. I dropped my gaze to the egg cradled in my lap.

At the same time, Rorik sucked in a breath. “There’s a hole. Is it okay? Did I hit it by accident?” he asked, eyes round with concern.

“No. It’s hatching,” I whispered.

Everyone gathered to watch with bated breath. My heart pounded faster than it ever had in my life, but I also felt strangely calm. I was ready for this. I grasped Rorik’s hand and held it firmly.

The egg wriggled in my lap. A tiny pip in the sunshine-yellow shell grew into a sizable crack. An annoyed peep came from within. Then the egg rocked back and forth until a tiny yellow head popped out.

A dragonet.

Rorik gasped. His hand held mine tighter.

The newborn dragonet, still blinking fluid from its eyes, opened its little mouth and bit the egg. Its small fangs scraped viciously against the shell.

My heart skipped a beat. That behavior was all too familiar to me and Aurum.

“What is it doing?” Rorik asked anxiously.

“Twins,” I murmured. “Rorik. We have twins.”

Rorik’s gaze snapped to mine. “What?”

“Watch.”

Time slowed as the dragonet gnawed at its own egg. Tiny shards flew to the floor, widening the crack it emerged from until a second head popped out.

A white furry one.

A baby polar bear cub.

“Rorik!” I cried.

His dark eyes glittered with love. “I see them,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

As the bear joined its dragonet twin, the pair tore free of the egg together, then flopped into our laps. In the background, I was vaguely aware of family members running to get clean towels. When they returned, we wiped the remaining sticky fluid off our babies and saw their fresh faces for the first time.

The yellow dragonet had dark eyes, like Rorik. A patch of pale yellow fur streaked down its head in the beginning of a mane. The polar bear cub had piercing amber eyes, like me.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been a surprise, given Kiara and Desiree had set the precedent, but the little bear cub sported a small pair of wings, too.

My heart felt full. They were beautiful. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect set of babies.

“Two boys,” Jade said fondly, smiling over at my twin. “To match Aurum and Mylo’s two girls.”

Silent tears of joy rolled down Rorik’s chubby cheeks. His expression was the happiest I’d ever seen it.

And I was sure mine was, too.