“They want to see the eggs,” I said. “But they’re bringing tacos.”
“So, at least we’re getting an admission fee,” he teased and then rushed to put the groceries away, nearly done when they walked in.
“Taco time!” Greta came in, two huge bags in her hands.
We ate in the nursery. It was weird how leaving the eggs alone to go to the bathroom was rough, but I could leave them with Bunny Foo-Foo to go greet my mate in the kitchen and feel comfortable. Everybody needed a Bunny Foo-Foo.
Greta’s gaze kept going from egg to egg. “I’ve seen eggs, but they’re huge!”
“Well, they’re not chickens,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“But they’re, like, bigger than ostriches!” I was shocked by their size, too, but not to the extent she was.
“Got a spoiler for you, Greta. You’re not going to be an ostrich auntie, either.”
She stuck her tongue out at me.
“And before you tell me how ginormous they are again, think about how I felt pushing them out.”
She shivered. “I don’t even want to think about that.” Her mate wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.
They’d decided early on that they wanted to be child-free and just be the cool aunt and uncle. That was before there were any nieces or nephews, and pretty soon, they were going to have four. Five, if Altan and Sothea had their way.
“Hey.” Altan pointed to the violet egg. “Are they supposed to do that?”
“Do what?” I walked around to the egg he was pointing to.
“Move,” he clarified.
“Yes.” But I wasn’t seeing any movement. “That’s the first indication they’ll be hatching soon.”
We all stood there staring at the egg, and almost immediately it moved again, and then again.
“I think it’s time,” I whispered, taking my mate’s hand.
“Should we, like, give you some space?” Greta asked.
“No, stay. Be here for the birth of your nieces and/or nephews.”
It would’ve been different having them here for the laying of my clutch, with my body exposed and all the unsavory things that came from my lips. But now? They were exactly where I wanted them to be.
Within a half hour, the eggs were all moving. Another thirty minutes, and there were cracks in each. An hour later, a chip fell out of the first one, then a chunk, then another chunk, and then the first talon appeared.
“That’s not a baby,” Greta said, her voice hushed.
“No.” Theo explained how they weren’t babies the way we thought of them yet. They would emerge as dragons, and, once we held them, they would shift to their human form for the first time and stay that way, most likely until puberty.
The first dragon came out of the violet egg. It was gorgeous. We hadn’t decided if we would wait until they were all out beforeholding any of them, but once I saw him, there was no way I was letting him stay there alone. I picked him up. Where the dragon once was, I now held our son. We’d picked out three girl and three boy names and had put them in order of which we would use. Harris was our first boy name, and it fit him.
My mate got a blanket and helped wrap him up. We’d get to diapers and clothes and cleaning him up after his siblings joined the world. Our second little dragon came out only a few minutes later. This one, Theo picked up first, our sweet baby girl, Hannah.
When the third one hatched, it fluttered over to the purring friend sitting on the edge of the dog bed and pressed its head to the cat.
“Looks like she’s the third one to hold a baby dragon.” Altan reached down and petted her. “You need to let the daddies have a turn now.”
Altan took Harris from me as he lay asleep in his mate’s arm, his sister next to him. I picked up our third child, Hayden.
“Look at you, picking furry favorites already,” I teased.
