“It’s possible, but a midwife or Aunt Raine will know pretty soon if you’re carrying a baby or eggs.”
I had to have misheard him. He said eggs, but he was jerking me around. I pulled the covers to my chin because I needed to hide if I was going to lay eggs. How was that possible?
I gulped. “Eggs? Are you serious?”
“Dragon shifters lay eggs, babe, and you’re mated to me, so eggs it is. I’m sorry. Is that a dealbreaker?”
The worry lines on his forehead returned, and I was wracked with guilt. This kind, gentle man who’d been waiting for me for eight years was worried I’d reject our child because they might arrive in egg form.
I stroked his cheek. “No. Eggs or no eggs, I’ll love them as I love you, but I’m going to worry I’ll break the shell.”
Dray told me dragon eggs were tough. That was good to know.
He climbed into bed with me, and we talked about becoming parents and making my childhood room the nursery.
“Wait a minute.” I turned to face him. “Did you say eggs, plural?”
Dray bit his bottom lip. “Because you’re human, it might be different. But most dragon pregnancies result in multiple births.”
My life was mirroring a fantasy novel, but I wouldn’t change anything.
“Just as well the house is plenty big enough for dragons, both big and small.”
FOURTEEN
DRAY
A hand was shaking me, and there was a voice yelling, “Dray. Dray, wake up.”
I opened one eye and checked my phone. It was 2:31 in the middle of the night.
“What's wrong? Are you okay?” I expected him to say he was nauseous again and he wanted the bucket I’d placed in the bathroom. Either that or he had to get to the office because there was something he just had to do. He’d been a whirlwind since he started and had streamlined my business practices.
“I need pickles.”
So not work-related. I blinked. “What?”
“Pickles. The spicy kind. And ice cream, but not together because that's disgusting.” He was sitting up in bed sporting a serious expression. “And they need to be burned.”
“Huh?”
“Just a little charred on the edges.” He patted his stomach. “The babies want it.”
Aunt Raine had examined my mate and determined he was bearing eggs, and more than one.
My dragon perked up.
He wants his food charred. He’s craving heat and fire.
I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “Pax, it’s two in the morning.”
It was my understanding from reading baby books and blogs that cravings came much later in pregnancy, but maybe a shifter/human one messed up that timeline.
“Yes, but I can’t stop thinking about pickles.” He poked out his bottom lip, knowing that I couldn’t resist any demand when he did that. “Spicy burned pickles, please, and don’t forget the ice cream.”
While I’d expected pregnancy cravings, I’d wrongly assumed they’d be things like chocolate. But whatever my mate wanted, I’d get.
My dragon was smug because the baby wanted food touched by fire.
