“Can you hear them?” Pax snuggled between the eggs.
I wished I could. “No.”
My mate moved so we were spooning. “What if something goes wrong? There might be an earthquake and our babies’ protection will smash.”
While this area wasn’t prone to earthquakes, I understood his concern. Being parents meant being on constant alert.
“Don’t worry. If a tornado appears or a volcano erupts, I’ll shift and my beast will protect you and the eggs with his wings.”
“Volcano? What? I was just concerned about earthquakes, and now I’ve got three seismic events to worry about.”
Shoot, I’d upset him when I was trying to make a joke. My beast groaned and told me I was a fool. Pax’s shoulders shuddered, and a tiny sob had me rolling him over and holding him against me.
“I’m sorry.”
Pops stuck his head inside the structure and asked if everything was okay. I nodded, and he strode to his car. Not that there was much danger, but we didn’t want any nocturnal animals sniffing around the eggs.
The family had been taking shifts and keeping watch at the edge of the clearing. It made Pax feel better to know someone was always on guard. Garrett took over from Pops and was sitting on a log near the tree line.
Aunt Raine stopped by twice a day with food and supplies, and Dad came by to check the structure and make sure everything was holding up. Anderson and Stephen visited every afternoon after school. They sat by the nest and talked to the eggs about their day.
“I wish you were as anxious as I am.”
There was a lot to unpack in that sentence, and I was wary about how to answer. “I might not show it, but my belly is churning wondering when the eggs will crack and if our three baby dragons will have their wings.”
“What? They might be wingless?”
You’re upsetting him again. My dragon was annoyed and threatened to take his scales and comfort Pax himself.
Damn, I was messing up big time. “Sorry, babe, I should have said that we’d see their wings.” Perhaps I was more nervous than I thought.
“Tell me again what we’ll see.”
I’d related this many times, but the story comforted my mate. We’d hear cracking first. There’d be little fractures in the shell as the baby dragons started to break through. Then we’d see movement, and they’d push against the shell from inside. Eventually, the shell would crack open enough to get out.
I added details about catching a glimpse of their scales. When dragons hatched they’d have their scales and wings, but only for a few seconds.
“They might be green or blue or even purple.” One of my cousins' beasts had yellow scales, though that was unusual.
“Do you think they can hear us?” Pax asked.
“I’m sure they recognize your voice because you carried them for months.”
Pax wanted to help the babies escape the shell, but I warned him against that. Just as with human babies, our tiny dragons would emerge when they were ready.
“What if they can’t get out?”
“They will.” It might take a little longer because they had a human dad, but they’d make it.
I pressured Pax to get some sleep, though both of us would be awake multiple times during the night. But as my mate lay in my arms, my eyes snapped open. Something had woken me, and I glanced outside to see Garrett reading by the fire. I shot up, and Pax did the same.
The only sound was my heart thumping in my ears, but a cracking sound pierced the silence. Pax gripped my arm.
“The eggs,” he whispered as we peered at the clutch.
It was one of them. We got on our knees and peered at our babies. The biggest egg had a visible fracture running down one side.
Pax clutched his hands. “I so want to help, even though I know I can’t.”
