“Darwin is asking you to kindly take the egg from its nestler,” Harry translated. “He also wants to know if it would be okay if the rest of the eggs came out, too.”
Matthieu shook his head vehemently, then, tears in his eyes, scrambled to shrug off his jacket and undo his shirt. Madhav, dislodged from where he’d been perched, hopped down from his shoulder and stayed pressed against his side. For a moment, Ian feared that something had gone wrong, and Matthieu had fallen victim to egg madness, but as Matthieu began to fervently fashion his clothing into a pile on the floor, Ian understood his motive—the cold marble was no place for an egg, so Matthieu was doing what he could to build their children a nest.
As soon as it clicked, Ian tugged off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. Before he could lay the garments down, Geoffrey breached the ring of baby dragons, bare from the waist up. He added his shirt, vest, and jacket to the pile, allowing Matthieu to fuss with them as he wanted. His suspenders hung loose, and while he’d been undressing, his gelled hair had been pushed out of place and looked ridiculous. There had never been a time when Geoffrey had allowed himself to look so disheveled in private, let alone in public, and yet he’d stripped down without a second thought, beating even Ian in his rush to disrobe.
“Everything will be well,” Geoffrey whispered to Matthieu. He squeezed their lover’s shoulder. “I am here, and Ian is here with us, too. We’ll get through this together.”
“The hatchlings will be safe,” Ian vowed. He gave Matthieu his clothes, which Matthieu plumped and plucked and fussed with until they were positioned to his satisfaction. “You have my word.”
“And mine.” Everard stepped forward and dramatically threw off his jacket. He handed it to Matthieu, then began to unbutton his shirt. “Not only do I have clothes to offer, but several centuries of experience in the medical field and magic to supplement it.”
“And mine,” Harry said. He stood outside of the ring of dragons near Everard and leaned forward to hand Matthieu his shirt and jacket. A golden body chain studded with exquisite melee diamonds accented his bare torso, which he did not remove. It made Ian wonder what other treasures Everard may have hidden on his person. “I may not have centuries of experience under my belt, but I’m still a doctor. Plus, I know all kinds of things about reptiles, so even though I’m still discovering everything there is to know about dragons, I’m sure I can help.”
“And mine,” said Nate, who’d come to stand beside Harry. “Or my shirt, at least, and my reassurance that if Harry promises your eggs will be fine, they will be. I’ve never known Harry to be wrong.”
Harry beamed.
“And mine,” Alistair promised. He removed his jacket and tore the rest of his garments from his upper body.
Nate winced and buried his head in his hand. “That was a five-hundred-dollar Brioni shirt.”
Alistair, unfazed, continued, “My trust in mywytadis absolute, and I have seen what Harry is capable of firsthand. Your whelps will be safe and well—I swear it.”
Not to be undone, Sebastian ripped his jacket and shirt from his body in a mighty display of strength and offered the ruined garments to Matthieu, who continued to assemble the nest. Perry, pixie-like on his feet, stepped forward and removed his clothing from the belt up as well. As his shirt fell open, Ian’s chest clenched. Unlike Harry, Perry was not decorated with golden chains and diamonds, save for a delicate golden necklace whose brilliant sapphire stone sat in the dip of his collarbone. He was adorned with scars. Four long, almost identical gashes ran vertically down from his pectoral to his hip, the first located at the center of his chest, and the last beneath his armpit. At one point, they’d been life-threateningly deep, but time had long since healed them. All that remained were raised, pinkish keloid scars. Dragon claws. Ian couldn’t mistake them. He’d suffered from similar injuries at the hands of his father, but had been fortunate enough to have a body capable of regeneration.
Perry hadn’t been so lucky.
“We need more,” Matthieu whispered. His voice was hoarse and strained by fear. “The eggs need more. It’s not… not enough for all five.”
Desperation vibrated through their bond like bass rattling floorboards. Ian, overcome by emotion, went to remove his belt and add his pants to the pile when a man more imposing than even Sebastian stepped forward.
Grimbold Drake.
Without a word, Grimbold cast off his jacket and undid the buttons of his shirt. While he undressed, Snorre stepped forward and clapped him on the back.
“Never thought that this would be how I’d end up naked with you, Grim.”
Grimbold glowered. “Dream on,jordgubbe.”
Snorre snickered and began to disrobe.
Grimbold seemed not to get the joke.
Around the room, others stepped forward to donate their clothing, friends and distant family alike. Vadim went so far as to strip down to his pink panties, the back of which were decorated with a red handprint. Even Liu Wei gave up his jacket, as did his silent, towering shadow. By the time the nest was assembled, not a single clan head wore a jacket, nor did any of Ian’s old colleagues. Political differences and personal ideologies were put aside. Need superseded pride. It gave Ian a small but glimmering hope that one day, no dragon on the council would fail to see eye to eye.
Now that the nest was satisfactory to the standards of his egg-addled brain, Matthieu lifted the twin egg from its nestler with trembling hands and positioned it, then dutifully did the same with the next four. When he finished, all the eggs were twitching and rocking, the young dragons inside eager to come out.
“You know, this is kind of good, all things considered,” Harry said as one of the eggs tumbled onto its side, its shell strained from the dragon squirming within. “It’s better for a reptile to erupt early than it is for a human to be born prematurely. Delicate skinks and all kinds of other reptiles will hatch before they’re ready if they detect threatening vibrations through their shells. They’ll hatch an average of three and half days early, which is a lot, when you consider they only incubate for four to eight weeks. Since dragons incubate for a whole year, if they’re anything like delicate skinks, everything will be fine.”
Matthieu sobbed.
“And if they’re not fine,” Everard said, smoothly taking over for his mate, “then Harry and I are both here to give the whelps immediate medical care.”
Now that the nest was assembled and the eggs had been laid out, Ian dared breach the ring of dragons. As he did, Madhav and Abelard fell back to join their brothers, cousins, and friends, giving both Ian and Geoffrey, who approached from the other side, ample space. Ian dropped to his knees at Matthieu’s side and squeezed his hand. Geoffrey did the same.
“If you’d like, I can examine the eggs now to determine their general health,” Everard offered. “It will mean I’ll have to touch them. Is that permissible?”
Matthieu nodded and took his hand from Ian’s so he could wipe his eyes. “Yes.”
