Chapter Fourteen
Tripp
The little cabin sat not too terribly far off from a ledge one way and a creek the other, the water petering out into a gentle trickle down the mountainside in a way that suggested in a hundred years it might become the gentlest of waterfalls. For that moment, it merely made for a wet cliff face and an unpleasant gleam at six in the morning in a way that penetrated the split of their curtains.
Even with a blanket thrown over their faces, the light flickered in and created a heated stripe that fell on just this side of uncomfortable—even for their snake forms. Reptiles loved heat. And at that moment, Tripp loved heat, too. It wasn’t quite lunch yet, and a beautiful flat rock near the creek side drew a healthy amount of sunlight that warmed it perfectly for his snake form.
Tripp stretched out in a little undulation, trying not to break his pose. A yawn worked its way through him, constricting his chest until he opened his jaw wide, fangs splaying out awkwardly as his unfused jaw reseated itself.Sorry!The quick apology slid along the bond between them, a bond most shifters shared to some degree, but theirs had grown so strong so fast.
“No problem. It was cute.” Dray hummed to himself as he sketched, eyes flicking upward every minute or so to take in one detail or another. He sketched quietly, the flicks of his pencil making little rasping noises, barely a tiny note above the rustling of evergreen leaves around them. “Ah, fuck.”
Tripp stared Dray down as he leaned to the side with a hiss of frustration, hand swiping over the ground. The question in Tripp’s gaze or along their bond must have given Dray pause.
“Dropped my fuckin’ pen.” Dray did some sort of angled gymnastics in attempt to navigate the hindrance of his belly. His awkward posture must have given him a cramp because he flailed, clutching his back for a second, and fell from his perch onto his side with an awkward flop. “Fuuuck!”
Tripp broke posture and held his head up, sliding off the rock with a fervent slither, shifting as he came over. “Dray!”
“I’m good! I just lost my balance. I—” As Dray hefted himself up, he ran his hand down his back and backside, fingers pausing. When he drew his hand back, he angled it this way and that, staring at a light sheen of liquid. “Uh-oh…”
“Uh-oh? Did you—uh… Need some fresh pants?” Tripp sniffed, and it didn’t smell anything like urine. Some part blood, some part metallic and entirely other.
“Didn’t piss myself. Get my phone. I’m calling the clinic.” Dray huffed and waved his hand at a naked Tripp, huffing as he tucked his legs and did his best to right himself.
Tripp took off running to the cabin, mind a field of anxiety and frustration. Still, he had a task. Find phone. Call clinic. Tripp nearly earned his namesake when he returned, stumbling to force the phone into Dray’s shaking hand.
He dialed a number and held it to his ear, breath shaking as he waited. “Hey, yeah, Dray La—Wells. Yeah.”
Tripp knelt next to Dray, mind too scattered to make sense of the speaker on the other end.
Dray rattled off their address. “Not regular, but it’s definitely broken.”
Broken? A broken arm? Leg? Had Tripp missed something? The fall barely seemed more than a misplaced roll off his seat.
“No, no blood.” Dray’s face tensed up, but Tripp scented blood… He raised a hand and pressed it to Dray’s shoulder as his mind refused to come to the conclusion. “You can be here in forty-five minutes?”
Dray huffed at whatever she said. “I’m in no fit shape to drive, and gods, Tripp is in no better shape to drive.”
“I’m fine to drive,” Tripp said, keeping his voice low.
Dray shot him a dirty look and shoved Tripp away by his chest. “Yeah. Okay, we’ll wait. Thanks.”
Dray sighed heavily and hung up the phone. “You’re not driving me to the nearest clinic. If the situation were reversed and you were in labor and I was driving—”
“Labor?” Tripp’s breath caught in his throat.
“I told you; I didn’t piss myself.” Dray offered Tripp a hand and gestured for him to pull him up. “Now, give me a hand.”
Tripp nearly choked trying to lift Dray up, adrenaline making him lift his mate effortlessly. “Where we going, babe?”
Dray closed his eyes and huffed. “Bathroom. Whatever this happens on is going to be messy.”
“O-okay.” Tripp toted Dray into the bathroom and settled him down beside the tub. He ran the shower and stepped in, rinsing off.
Tripp fidgeted for a moment until he forged forward and stepped in with him, hugging him from behind.
“I’m all wet, and sex isn’t happening,” Dray said, a laugh petering out over his lips.
“Well, not for another six weeks at this rate—longer if you want.” Tripp looped his hands over Dray’s belly, cupping under the swell of it to hold the tense dome, adding a little lift to ease his mate’s strain. “This isn’t doing anything to help, is it?”
