The next afternoon…
I should never have listened to Abraxis and all of his worrying about Raven taking a second mate. His voice had been low and urgent when he cornered me in the hallway last week, his eyes wild with something that looked like fear mixed with desperation. Then there’s the shit he was spewing about the cursed egg and how Raven will choose the stronger male, as if our bond meant nothing compared to raw power. It’s basic dragon biology—the female is always going to choose the stronger drake. The oldest drake always takes the head drake position. It’s what’s best for the safety of the nest.
Shaking my head to clear the toxic thoughts, I look at the costume Raven picked for me. She’s putting me in a shark onesie along with Hemlocke at Ziggy’s request. The cheap polyester fabric feels scratchy against the silver scales that pattern my neck and shoulders, the synthetic material catching on the edges where scale meets skin. The thing is ridiculously oversized, with cartoonish teeth around the hood and fins that flop uselessly at my sides.
Meanwhile, my mate has transformed herself into this insanely cute bunny, and despite everything, I can’t help but smile watching her.
She adjusts the oversized pink bunny ears several times as she stares at herself in the mirror, tilting her head this way and that. The soft fabric ears flop with each movement, one drooping slightly lower than the other. The onesie has been modified to accommodate her wings, with custom slits that allow the black leather membranes to extend freely. Whoever did the tailoring work knew what they were doing—the seams are reinforced with what looks like leather to prevent tearing. I watch her lean close to the mirror and paint her nose to look like a bunny’s with careful, precise strokes, the pink makeup bright against her skin. Then she presses stick-on whiskers to her face with gentle fingers, smoothing them down one at a time until they’re perfectly positioned.
“I’m ready!” She calls out, her voice bubbling with excitement as she slips the egg carrier under the costume. She zips it back up carefully, making sure the cursed egg is secure and protected. The bulge where Solaris rests is barely visible beneath the soft material, just a slight roundness at her midsection.
Hemlocke steps out of the bathroom in his shark costume, and I have to admit his modification is clever—he’s added a fake fishing hook with bright orange floater attached, making it look like it’s sticking out of the corner of the shark’s mouth. The detail is impressive, down to the fake line trailing behind.
Me? I’ve glued a severed rubber hand to hang out of my shark mouth, the plastic fingers dangling limply with painted blood dripping from the wrist. It’s grotesque and ridiculous in equal measure.
“Alright, we just need to knock on Evan’s door. He’s going to phase us there.” Raven bounces slightly on her feet, making her bunny ears flop wildly.
I follow behind Hemlocke and Raven as we exit the room, my footsteps muffled by the ridiculous shark slippers attached to thecostume. The foam fins on the sides make a soft shuffling sound against the hardwood floor. Before we cross the hallway, I make sure both locks on the door are secured—the bottom lock, then the deadbolt clicks into place with a satisfying thunk. I tuck the key into my front pocket, the metal cool against my fingers through the thin polyester fabric. Raven is already knocking on Evan’s door by the time I turn around, her bunny ears bobbing enthusiastically with each rapid-fire rap of her knuckles against the wood.
Evan steps out in a shark onesie as well, though his is coated in fake blood that looks disturbingly realistic in the hallway’s fluorescent lighting. The crimson liquid appears wet, glistening as if freshly spilled. A severed foot—complete with painted toenails and an ankle bone protruding from torn flesh—sticks out of his shark’s mouth at a grotesque angle. “Let’s go. Everyone either hold on to me or take my hand.” His voice carries the calm efficiency of someone about to phase multiple people across hundreds of miles, like he’s done this a thousand times before.
I grab his forearm, feeling his muscles tense beneath my grip, and reach for Raven with my other hand. My fingers wrap around her wrist, feeling her pulse beating steady and strong beneath her skin. Hemlocke takes Evan’s other arm and holds onto Raven’s free hand, completing the circle.
Within seconds, reality lurches sideways. The familiar sensation of displacement magic washes over me—like being pulled through ice-cold water while simultaneously falling through space. My stomach drops, the hallway blurs into streaks of color and light, and then we’re standing in the Sovereign nest’s lower courtyard.
It’s absolute mayhem when we arrive. The scent of wood smoke from multiple fire pits fills the air, mixed with the savory aroma of roasted meat—venison, I think—and the sweeter smell of caramelized vegetables. Dozens of unfamiliar scents create a complex tapestry my dragon senses immediately catalog: feline musk from the displacer beasts, the wild storm-scent of other dragons, the earthy smell ofshifters, and something darker, more primal from the nightmare breeds. Fairy lights are strung between posts and trees, casting everything in a warm golden glow that fights against the deepening twilight. Tables laden with food line one side of the courtyard, and I can see steam rising from covered dishes.
Leander is chasing Ziggy around the yard with a pool noodle, his roars of outrage echoing off the compound walls and the surrounding forest. His face is flushed red with exertion and embarrassment. “You can’t just stalk people and abduct them, Ziggy! That’s not how courtship works!” He swings the noodle like a sword, the foam whooshing through the air.
Ziggy’s laughter rings out like bells as he dodges another swing with supernatural grace, his displacer beast reflexes making him nearly impossible to hit. He’s wearing a shark costume and singing the theme from Raven’s favorite shark movie. “But it worked! You’re a dad now, aren’t you?”
“I see Ziggy got you three.” Mina says as she walks over to us, her eyes dancing with amusement that crinkles the corners. She’s wearing what looks like a dragon onesie covered in purple scales that shimmer in the fairy lights, complete with a tail that drags behind her and small wings on the back. Her long hair is pulled into a braid that hangs over one shoulder.
Shaking my head, all I can do is laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Yeah, he was so excited about matching pajamas. How could we say no?” The joy in Ziggy’s voice when he’d called to coordinate our costumes had been infectious.
Hemlocke and I walk over to join Callan and Vaughn by the nearest fire pit. The heat radiates against my face, welcome in the cool evening air that carries the bite of approaching winter. Sparks drift upward into the darkening sky like tiny orange stars, disappearing into the twilight.
“Whoa, Raven got you good...” Vaughn says as he reaches out and turns Hemlocke’s head side to side, examining the bold bite mark on his neck. The wound is healing but still visible—a clear territorial claim. The punctures are deep, leaving dark bruises that bloom across pale skin in shades of purple and blue. They’re positioned high on the side of his neck where no collar could hide them.
Hemlocke blushes slightly, the color rising from his collar to his cheeks, and nods. “Yeah. She didn’t want anyone questioning whether I was mated or not.” His pink eyes flick toward Raven with something like pride mixed with embarrassment.
“It’s a juvenile black dragon thing to bite in a prominent place. She hasn’t bitten you excessively, has she?” Callan moves closer and examines the other side of Hemlocke’s neck with the clinical attention of someone who knows what to look for. His brow furrows with concern, fingers hovering near but not touching the mark.
“Just once on my shoulder and once on my neck. Is something wrong?” Hemlocke looks at me with concern darkening his pink eyes to almost magenta, and that shift in his expression draws Thauglor’s attention from across the yard where he’d been talking with Klauth.
“What’s happening?” Thauglor’s massive form approaches with ground-eating strides, his footsteps heavy enough on the packed earth that I can feel the vibrations through my feet. He shakes both our hands with a grip that could crush stone if he wasn’t careful, before looking at Callan with narrowed sapphire eyes that glow faintly in the firelight.
“Raven has bitten Hemlocke twice. One bold claim, one on his shoulder.” Vaughn says before Callan can respond, his voice carrying across the growing crowd as more family members gather closer, drawn by the shift in energy.
Thauglor simply nods, his expression unreadable, and looks over at his daughter near her sisters. Lily and Thorne are showing her something on a tablet, their heads bent together.
With a wave of his massive hand, she looks up and immediately comes over, leaving her sisters behind. She snuggles into his side like she’s still a hatchling seeking warmth and protection, smiling up at him with such pure adoration it makes my chest ache. “Hi, Daddy.” She beams up at him like he hung the moon and stars specifically for her, and something in my chest tightens at the pure, uncomplicated love in her expression.
“Little one, why did you bite Hemlocke twice?” Thauglor asks, his deep voice gentle despite its power. The question catches Mina’s attention from where she’s been arranging food on one of the tables. She wipes her hands on a towel and joins us, slipping under Thauglor’s other arm like she belongs there.
“Oh...” Raven moves over to Hemlocke and snuggles against his chest, her bunny ears pressing flat against his shark costume. “The first bite was when his shift was fighting him for control.” She smiles when Hemlocke kisses her temple, the gesture tender and protective. His arm wraps around her waist, holding her close.
“And the second one?” Mina asks, her tone carrying a knowing quality that makes me brace for impact. There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes that promises entertainment.
