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EZRA
Most of Ash Clan saw my father’s storm roll in over the lake, and they’re waiting for me at the edge of the pines when I come down. I don’t make it far before they crowd in. They want to clap me on the back and ask about the Mer, the queen, and the ocean.
“Alpha Ezra!” a hatchling shouts over the others. “Welcome home!”
I nod at all of them and grip a shoulder here and there, but I don’t stop. My dragon won’t have it. After this long without Aya’s scent, he’s done waiting.
My mother catches up to me and grabs my arm. “Ezra,” she chides.
I don’t slow down. “I’ll spend time with the clan later, Mom. I need Aya badly right now.”
She huffs, but she releases me. Her scent warms as she turns to our people and tells them to give their alpha the night.
I take the porch steps fast and pull open the door to our cabin. The roof is finished, and Levi’s ladder is gone from the side of the house. It still needs work, but it’s enough for us to live in.
I shut the door and look around. “Aya, I’m home.”
She doesn’t answer. All I hear is someone humming a lullaby in the back of the cabin. Another scent hits me.
It’s male and tangled up under hers. I’ve never smelled it in my life, and that’s all my dragon needs. Smoke pours out of my nose and ears, and I ball my fists. Whoever he is, I’m going to rip him apart.
I move slowly toward the kitchen. Aya stands at the counter, lost in thought. She hums the tune and rubs her belly. There isn’t another soul in the room.
I unclench my fists. My dragon quits growling and pushes me to breathe in again. The scent is coming from her. It smells like wild berries and my smoke. Aya is pregnant.
She looks up and smiles at me, and I drop to my knees. While I was gone, my seed took hold of her and created a life, a hatchling-pup.
Aya’s eyes shine. “It’s a boy.”
She walks over. “I want to throw my arms around you, but—”
When she reaches me, I grab her waist and bury my face in her belly.
She laughs. “Ezra!”
“No, no,” I mumble, and I squeeze her tighter.
When I finally lean back, she’s smiling down at me. She brushes a hand through my short locs and wrinkles her nose. “You stink like fish and the ocean.”
My eyes burn. I’m about to cry here on the kitchen floor. My dragon purrs. “I’ve been saving something,” I tell her. “For him.”
I wrote it the night I first caught her scent, when she was a pup and I was a young dragon who already knew she was mine. Even then, I wanted to give our little one a poem of his own. I never needed paper for it. I’ve carried it with me ever since.
Our son has hardly started growing inside her. I don’t care. I press my lips to her belly and recite it to him.
Little one,
tonight I found your mother.
She is a wolf pup with silver eyes
who smells like wild berries after the rain,
and she ran from me before I could say hello.
I am going to wait for her.
I don’t care how long it takes.
