Page 39

Rath

There Asha lay in his nest, naked and curled in warm blankets. The scent of his arousal faded, evidence of their little tryst still thick in the air—and on a few blankets that Rath made a point of removing.

The streak of blood-tinged fluid that stained Rath’s pants told him all he really needed to know. The moon was close and Asha would lay.

It wouldn’t be a quick thing—not for a first laying, anyway. Pryd, the youngest of them, had been born within an hour of his mother feeling the twinge of quickening. Asha would struggle with it, for certain, but future layings would be easier.

Rath rose from the nest and retrieved a cloth, wetting it in their bathing area before bringing it back. If he was gentle and slow enough, he’d be lucky not to wake Asha.

With slow strokes, he tended his mate, scented soap doing its best to cover what they’d been up to—a courtesy for Graylan—as he was sure to be there, soon.

Asha barely stirred and yawned, rolling onto his back in a generous sprawl.

He truly was a beautiful creature, all creamy ivory skin, his scales powdered and rainbow sheened.

His tail curled, the blankets sliding around to pull away from his spent and plump cock.

If it weren’t such an important moment for Asha’s well-being, Rath would be on his knees licking his mate to ecstasy again. “Mmm, Rath?”

“Shh, rest.” Rath scrounged around to find a pair of clean linen pants and strode into the hall, making his way toward Ghreid’s hall, his vision taking in the darkness as if light were never needed.

By the time he got to Ghreid’s hall, he didn’t have to knock before the heavy door swung open and curious eyes met his. “Graylan?”

Rath nodded. His scales bristled, but he kept himself tamed. Graylan was skilled enough at his craft and had been born with a very calming scent—enough that Rath never felt threatened by the male being around Asha.

“Fly out to get him, please?” Rath offered Ghreid a half smile but earned a snicker instead of compliance.

“No flying needed.” Ghreid gestured for Rath to follow as they went down the other side of his wing to Slath’s hall. He made a show of tilting his head and gesturing toward the door where the sounds of some rather terse voices whispered out.

“He’s in Slath’s chambers?” It was unlike Slath to have company, especially another dragon. Especially Graylan. The two had bitter blood between them.

Ghreid knocked twice and the voices ceased. A few moments passed before Slath approached the door wearing nothing but a nightrobe and glared, expression shifting to one of alarm. “Graylan?”

Ghreid nodded for Rath, who found himself leaning to peer down Slath’s hall.

“Mind your business, Brother.” Slath slammed the door and barked something at Graylan within, the other male rustling around in a rush before stumbling out in comfortable clothes in a state of dishevelment.

Arousal hung thick about him, but they’d not been fucking, for what Rath could smell. Perhaps he interrupted?

The pointed determination in Graylan’s eyes masked whatever had been going on, but Slath wore his emotions on his sleeve. Deep furrows and pinned dimples let Rath know their encounter hadn’t been fruitful.

Whatever had been going on was of no consequence as Graylan shouldered his bag and marched on, leading the way to Rath’s chambers. Ghreid went off his own way as Slath did the same—presumably to gather the rest of them.

When they arrived back in Rath’s nest, Asha sat up with a hiss, a blanket drawn over his lap. A hand rested firmly over his belly which squeezed into a lopsided shape, highlighting the two eggs within.

“Figured you’d know before me,” Asha grumbled as he shifted into a comfortable position, lounging in a rather complicated twist of limbs. Whatever eased his stress.

“It was a good hunch.” Rath knelt at the side of the nest and Graylan whipped around him, rolling his sleeves.

“Have you been taking walks as I asked?”

Asha nodded. “I was on one earlier with Ghreid until Rath retrieved me and stuffed me in my nest again.”

Graylan gave Rath an annoyed glance. “I’d argue, but I suppose if my mate were gravid, I’d be protective, too. I only happen to know better—no fault to you.”

Rath withheld comment, relaxing as Asha allowed Graylan to invade his space. Even with his hands wandering Asha’s belly and pulling back covers to show his bare form, Rath held his composure. This would be the moon that brought them their young.

Graylan summoned fire over his hands and wiped them on a rag from his bag. “A basin of water, if you please. If I can keep his vent warm and damp, we can minimalize tearing.”

Asha’s eyes widened at the prospect of tearing, but he remained silent. Life happened how it happened, and thousands of dragons had laid before him, so he would be fine. His mate was there to protect him and the fates had blessed them.

With little protest, Rath rose to his feet and left to retrieve the basin of water. Perhaps it did something, or perhaps not. In any case, it was something for Rath to do besides feel useless.

Asha closed his eyes and waited for things to commence, a victim of circumstance, a mere actor in the play of their life. For as much as he mattered to Rath, he had little say in what was about to happen, and it was tragic but poetic in a way.

Rath plucked a basin from their washing pedestal and poured from the taps, using his fires to heat it to near boiling. Birthing required boiling water, right? It was safe to assume—in any case, Graylan could cool it if he desired. Magic was easy for them, after all.

When he returned, Asha had moved to all fours, a blanket draped over his back. From nowhere, Lyss had arrived and sat smugly in a corner. Rath wanted to tell her to leave, but she meant the world to Asha. Jeron hung around the doorway, his face a mask of unease.

“Get in here, ya twat!” Lyss huffed, and Jeron locked eyes with Rath, face pale and drawn.

“It’s fine. I apologize for my outbursts, Jeron.” Asha sighed heavily and lowered his head, the chains on his horns gently clinking as he did so.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, my lord.” Jeron slid in, one uneasy step at a time.

“What did you say to him, Asha?” Rath would chastise him later—after his labor.

“I snapped at him to get out and leave me alone. I cannot apologize enough,” Asha said, his voice hoarse and stilted.

“It’s my fault. Really, I was brazen. I took liberties I shouldn’t have and assumed my presence was wanted.” Jeron fidgeted and Lyss, thankfully, intervened. Jeron hadn’t been that shy or withdrawn since he’d first met Rath. The youth in his eyes so apparent, the flame color pale.

“Jeron, I cannot state enough how much a bearer feels the urge to protect their young. He’s welcoming you, now. Take that liberty.” Graylan gestured for Jeron to approach and tucked the blanket in for privacy. “Rath, come do the massages I taught you.”

Rath sat the bowl down at Graylan’s side and ushered toward Asha, hands at the ready to navigate his mate’s hips and back. The swell of them had greatly enticed Rath as of late, but it was not the time to appreciate his body.

Asha panted for a few long, pained moments as Graylan wetted a rag and slid it beneath Asha’s tail.

“Are you certain I didn’t overstep?” Jeron knelt at the side of the nest and held himself stiff, eyes full of worry for his behavior and for his charge.

“No. You’ve been everything I needed, Jeron. Your history just happens to aggravate something reptilian in me.” Asha snarled the last part through teeth that sharpened and receded, his body shifting parts to accommodate his needs and flowing emotions.

“Believe me, it was a duty, not my heart.” Jeron held his hands up apologetically.

“And the fact you did so unwillingly makes me angrier—Jeron!” Asha threw his head back and hissed, breathing through pain that subsided quickly.

“I didn’t say that .” Jeron pursed his lips and glanced away. “It was no hardship.”

“I think you need to move on from this, Asha. The dragons have the whole thing set up right. Everything’s compensated, negotiated, and everyone’s happy.” Lyss huffed, slouching in one of their decorative chairs. “Did he let you get off?”

Jeron’s face turned beet red. “Yes. Every time.”

Rath pointedly looked anywhere but at Jeron or Asha.

“See? ’E’s no earl. And Jeron’s already said you can tell him to fuck off.” Lyss blew a strand of hair from her face, the mousy-brown curl flipping over her forehead. “But I’d keep him. ’E’d rat out our king in a heartbeat if he tried something.”

“I would.”

“Your loyalty astounds me.” Rath sighed and earned a glare from Asha.

“Rub.” Asha leaned into Rath’s touch and sighed. “I don’t blame you. I blame myself for being so petty.”

“I think it has something to do with the trauma.” Lyss stared at her nails idly, as if she weren’t a textbook case for trauma from sexual servitude. “Speaking of trauma, how’s your arse, Asha?”

Asha breathed through Rath’s gentle massage and fought off half a laugh. “Lyss, if I loved you any less, I’d throw something at you.”

“Least I ain’t the one stitching you up this time.” She chewed on the edge of her nail.

“The whole goal is to not require stitching.” Graylan withdrew his hand and dipped his cloth in the hot water, swishing it around with a flash of his fire.

The gold bands he wore over his fingers flared and dulled—to Rath’s great approval.

When he applied the cloth once more, Asha hissed and relaxed.

“Nothing’s coming out just yet. I don’t understand why you’re hanging around back there.” Asha hung his head and accepted Rath’s gentle massage.