I smiled, glad I’d taken the time to learn. His fingers flew again.Hurts. I’m okay. Probably need to—He clenched his jaw and tucked his knees with a hiss and whimper.
“I’ll call Cirue.” I reached for my phone but Whisper signed my baba’s name.
Lyphus.
“That may—”
I promised.
I nodded once and called my baba, letting it ring twice before he answered with a yawn. “Fire?”
“Not quite.” I glanced over toward Whisper and earned a squeak of joy. “He told me he wanted me to call you. Are you sure that’s okay?”
“Cirue doesn’t need to part with his egg this close to hatching and I would be honored to help. I’m not fragile. Most of my hurt healed in some way or another the day you first called mebaba. You had your daddy, your father, your baba, and Papa.”
I didn’t remember that far back, but I kept quiet. “I’m coming up with some supplies.”
“Thanks.” My voice cracked as I said so. “Love you.”
“Love you too, baby.” He hung up, and I waited as Whisper cringed, a dark stain spreading across his groin. He wrestled from his pants, and the sight of his belly so low in his hips, knotted up obscenely tight, made my heart clench.
“Whisper?” I slid from my perch and knelt beside him as the distant ringing of feet on the metal stairs hummed along the spire.
Fast.Whisper grunted, and from the strain in his throat, it sounded as if he was pushing.
I recalled when Aster laid his egg. The labor had taken the better part of a day, but Whisper’s body had other ideas, it seemed, as he hissed through a cry of pain.
“Well, won’t be the first egg born up here.” Baba’s happy tones rang up from the hatch, and I aided him the few steps up. He was fully capable, but it was a politeness I extended.
“Oh?” I turned back to Whisper and held his hand, aiding him in sitting up and onto his heels. Cirue had assured us it was the easiest posture, and Whisper calmed marginally as he huffed. He’d saidegg, not babe.
I tread carefully as he wistfully sighed. “I had a few. Of course, supposedly Brae was born up on the former tower. Anashim didn’t even stop her shift of watch after she laid himand his brother. Didn’t want to wake Morris and Cirue back when he led the clan.”
Dragons passed the title of clan leader down every century or so to ensure that change happened. We could get stuck in our ways.
Whisper paid attention to our conversation but extended a hand to Lyphus all the same, who navigated around and held onto him with a smile. “Thank you.”
“W-welcome.” Whisper panted as the words trembled over his lips. With us both holding a hand, he’d lost that method of speaking, so I paid close attention to his words.
With his free hand, Baba opened a bag he’d brought up with him, rummaging for a towel that he tucked under my mate. He also put on a glove with an awkward gesture until Whisper released his hand. Baba reached beneath Whisper and angled a small pocket mirror and hummed before setting it down and apologizing quietly. “A little pressure, apologies.”
Whisper grunted and closed his eyes, a tear sliding over his cheek until Baba withdrew his hand and nodded. “You must have been laboring awhile.”
Whisper shook his head, but I wondered if he had and not noticed, having such a high pain tolerance from years of enduring savagery.
He bore down and whimpered, tensing up as a glint of pale shell reflected in the mirror.
He pushed again, and I restructured my grip, daring to rest a hand on my mate’s belly. “You’re so strong.”
“You’re pretty impressive, I’ll admit, Whisper.” Baba chuckled and counted down. Due to the peristaltic nature of reptilian birth, labor was less about the time between contractions and more about the time spent pushing, and Whisper held it for twenty seconds, releasing with a gasp of breath that sent the peek of shell retreating slightly.
We waited for him to regain his breath, and he pushed again. Then again.
Time sped by, contrary to what Father and Morris had promised me. They’d told me it was a scary eternity, waiting while their mate was in pain. I felt the fear, of course, but things barreled by, Whisper filled with a determination that had the egg crowning gloriously, the textured shell blossoming from his pink hole, a silvery color that held him open and locked in place as he ceased his push and panted in determination.
I couldn’t resist, a sudden urge welling within me as I leaned in and kissed my mate. Something no other man had done for him, locking him down mid push as I shared that strained breath with him. There was a slick, sticky sound followed by a thump, Baba rushing to gather the towel beneath him as Whisper tore his mouth away and cried out, not so much in pain but in celebration, lips spread into a draconic smile, teeth on full display until he flopped back and let his chest rise and fall.
Baba held the egg, fingers spreading over the shell—bare of any flaws. His tips studied the dampness, and he grabbed a grease pen from the bag, wiping a spot on the shell clean to mark the place where the embryo attached, where we’d need to keep the egg facing up.
