Page 37 of Emerald Waves (Primordial Protectors #2)

Sensing little grumbles from our egg, I detoured to the kitchen and made a grilled steak and cheese sandwich for Emerson, and a bowl of tomato-basil soup to go with it, before calling him up to eat, knowing he’d be ready for a nap as soon as his belly and our egg were full.

It happened like clockwork, especially in the middle of the afternoon.

He always woke recharged and energized, ready to dig back into the information he’d been pouring through.

“I’m beginning to think Cade sends his food requests straight to Papa at this point,” he said as I wrapped an arm around him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“There may be some truth to that,” I replied. “I think he’s already figured out that his Daddy is a very driven, determined dragon who will stop at nothing to complete a task once he’s sunk his teeth into it.”

“Keep standing between me and the little one’s lunch and I’m bound to take a bite out of something,” he said, brandishing a pen and notepad at me.

Bowing, I held my arm out, ushering him the rest of the way to his seat.

We’d established early on that he didn’t like to eat alone, that it brought back painful memories for him, so I made it a point to share in every meal, pulling out cold dishes of chocolate pudding topped with whipped cream once we’d finished our food.

One day I was going to dip a claw in that pudding and paint him with it, but when he yawned in between bites I knew today was not going to be the day.

I saw him off to bed as soon as his pudding dish was empty, tucked him in, kissed him and the swollen swell of his belly, whispering to Cade that I’d have a very special surprise for him when his Daddy woke, cleaned up the kitchen and headed downstairs to keep my promise to them.

There was a lot more on Emerson’s desk now than the last time I’d moved it, so I took great pains to lift it without disturbing anything, knowing how organized he was.

Well, his version of organized. As my eyes skimmed over the printouts on his desk, I found myself wondering who would have access to the list of inhabitants in Dragon City, as well as their classifications and designations.

Distrusting one of our own wasn’t something I was used to, because we’d always been so cautious about those we allowed to dwell here, but having my mate and son slumbering upstairs made me rethink a lot of things.

I trusted Larkin’s faith in the dragons who patrolled Dragon City with him, he knew them better than anyone, but I couldn’t help but feel like material such as what was sitting on Emerson’s desk, required some sort of access number or login code, and if it didn’t, then maybe it should.

Where was it all kept, anyway? Not the archives, or Emerson wouldn’t have needed Larkin to send it to him.

Was it part of the sheriff’s database?

We didn’t have a town clerk’s office, well we sort of did, but it was also located at the police station as part of the records department.

Was it all on the same server?

I scoffed at myself for thinking I could solve the mystery, moved the other desk, and turned my focus to the bassinet I was supposed to be carving.

Consider it redemption, Emerson had said. Consider it redemption.

Though I knew my mate was sleeping, I could practically hear him in my head, encouraging me, with teary, plea filled eyes, to finish the bassinet for Cade.

I never wanted to be the cause of my mate’s tears, so I extended a claw, exhaled and let it sink into the stone again.

I tried to recapture the image I’d first seen in my mind when I’d envisioned it, as well as the joy and serenity I’d felt when I’d begun carving into that rock.

Somewhere in all the thoughts my dragon and I found the rhythm we’d had before, and I could picture Emerson cheering in my head, urging me on.

With each careful scoop of my claws through that stone pillar, I remembered the reason I’d wanted the bassinet here in the first place.

To be able to reach in, stroke my fingertips over the surface of our egg, turn it, and talk to Cade, even read aloud from some of the legends we’d been pouring over.

Forging that connection with him before he was hatched was key.

I didn’t want us to be just a bunch of disembodied voices he heard through the shell.

I wanted him to know about the things we were passionate about and the world he would be born into.

There were still places on Earth that were shadowy and wild with tall mountain peaks that stretched so high they poked through the clouds.

Someday I’d fly him to the top of one and sit with him in my arms as we watched a giant cumulus cloud float by, guessing what shape it held.

I hoped he developed a love of whimsy and the unexpected, learned empathy and why it was important to care for those smaller and weaker than him.

I hoped he was never afraid to ask questions and always let his curiosity shine through.

I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face the first time he tasted jelly and managed to smear the sticky sweetness all over his cheeks and chin.

I could practically picture his giggles as we tried to clean the mess from him.

The next thing I knew, the bassinet was finished, chiseled deep into the rock, with the shelf I’d envisioned and everything.

For a moment I just stood there staring at it looking every bit as glorious as I’d dreamed, then I dashed up the stairs, dripping dust and grit everywhere, of course, but I wanted to find the bows before Emerson woke up.

The mess I could deal with later. Now it was Emerson’s face that I couldn’t wait to see, pleased that I’d kept my promise.

I never wanted to be a disappointment to either of them.

Holy shit…I really was gonna be a papa.