Page 22 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
“Even as a mate, it is not safe to approach her right now. Not until she shifts back or stops eating, whichever happens first.” Klauth warns him as I reach out and devour the next two deer in a single bite, feeling their bodies slide down my throat whole, their bones crunching between my teeth.
The half dozen deer are consumed in a matter of moments, their gamey scent filling my nostrils as I extend my long neck to drink the water in the tub. The cool liquid soothes my parched throat. I keep my eyes fixed on my mates. Mentally, I know they won’t hurt the eggs. Yet instinct screams not to let them close. Male dragons will kill off a rival’s nest to force the female to go into heat again to sire his own progeny.
“Why is she looking at us like we’re threats?” Balor asks as he moves along the wall, his shoulders pressed against the cold stone, trying to catch a glimpse of the eggs I’m guarding so fiercely.
“Instinct-wise, we are,” Thauglor says as he motions to the eggs. “Her instincts know that a male dragon will destroy eggs that aren’t his to get the female to go into season again so he can father his own. Klauth and I don’t have eggs this cycle, so we’re threats to her progeny according to her dragoness.”
“She will kill anyone or anything that gets too close to her eggs,” Klauth says, his voice a low rumble as he leans against the wall, watching me watch him. His crimson flecked amber eyes never leave mine. “Wait until the hatchlings arrive. Especially Ziggy’s. We don’t know which species they will take after. If they are soft-skinned, she will burn the world to ash to protect them.”
I empty the tub of water, the last drops trickling down my throat, then lay my head down over my eggs. I curl my taloned hands around the two of them, feeling their warmth against my scales as I hold them tight to my chest. Sleep pulls me under again, the weight of exhaustion too heavy to fight. Hopefully, I won’t be so enraged when I wake up next time.
When I next awaken,I have Klauth’s dragon wrapped around mine. All I see are crimson scales in front of me, their metallic sheen catching what little light filters into our sanctuary, and his wing is draped over my body like a living tent, hiding me from the world. He must have his back to the entrance, putting himself in harm’s way to protect us. I nuzzle his side, feeling the heat radiating from his scales, and he carefully lifts his wing to look under at me, his eye glowing like a hot coal in the darkness.
‘I’m okay now. I’m ready to shift back,’I project to him. Tilting my head, I look down at the black eggs nestled between my taloned hands, their shells smooth and perfect.
‘Go ahead and shift first. I’ll block you from the rest of the cavern,’Klauth tells me through our bond, his mental voice warm with concern.
Drawing in a deep breath, the smoky scent of the cavern filling my lungs, I concentrate on shifting back. It’s slow this time, my bones cracking and reshaping, scales receding into skin, but I feel so much better back in my human form, cool air caressing my skin. I stare at the size of my eggs—they are far bigger than the ones Cora had laid, their surfaces gleaming like polished onyx. “Are my eggs okay?” I reach out hesitantly to touch them, my fingertips tingling as I feel the life pulsing within them.
Klauth shifts back, his transformation fluid and graceful, and when he does, I see all of my other mates watching and waiting to see them, their eyes filled with wonder and curiosity.
“They are the size dragon eggs should be,” he assures me, his voice now gentle. “They are healthy and strong with a thick shell.”
“With that being said, you may have to help Ziggy’s hatchlings get out,” Thauglor says as he moves closer to study Ziggy’s egg, his fingers hovering just above the surface. “They may not have an egg tooth like dragon hatchlings. So the day the first one hatches, you need to help the second egg.”
Ziggy runs up to me, his footsteps light and eager on the stone floor, and hugs me so tightly he lifts me off the ground. His familiar scent—woodsy and sweet—envelops me. “We have a baby!” he practically squeals as he showers me with kisses, his lips warm against my skin.
“Two. Two babies.” I smile as I kiss him back, tasting his joy. Ziggy is a ray of sunshine that lights up my life every single day, his warmth chasing away the lingering chill of my dragonic instincts.
“So even those of us that are not born from eggs can have children?” Leander asks, his voice trembling with hope, eyes bright with unshed tears.
“Looks that way.” I nuzzle Ziggy again, breathing in his familiar woodsy scent, then move to my eggs to inspect them closely. The smooth, obsidian shells are warm under my fingertips, pulsing with life. “I need to get them into the egg chamber.”
Abraxis moves quickly, his muscular arms cradling his egg with surprising gentleness. The hard muscles of his forearms contrast with the delicate way he handles our precious cargo. Ziggy follows suit, carrying his large egg awkwardly, his athletic frame struggling with the weight. Watching the two of them is almost comical—Ziggy’s tongue poking out in concentration, Abraxis moving with exaggerated caution.
I follow behind slowly, my bare feet padding softly on the cool stone floor, watching my other mates stare longingly at the eggs in their arms. Their eyes gleam with protective pride. To my surprise, Callan is shifted, and his gryphon form is nestled in the chamber as he promised, feathers rustling softly as he settles in.
Tears threaten to fall, blurring my vision as I stare at Callan’s gryphon fluffing the golden-brown feathers around him in the nest. The musky scent of his feathers mingles with the earthy smell of the chamber. Abraxis and Ziggy take turns setting their eggs into thenest, the soft bedding giving slightly under their weight, and then back away. I move close to the nest and stroke the feathers along Callan’s neck, feeling their silky texture between my fingers. “Thank you for this.” I kiss his hard beak, the keratin warm against my lips, and adjust how the eggs sit under his wing, their shells clicking gently against each other.
“With as warm as it is in here, you really don’t need to sit on them,” I whisper next to Callan’s ear, feeling the heat radiating from the chamber walls. Then I remember what he said. He would sit on the eggs so that I wouldn’t feel trapped in the egg chamber. He uses his beak to move the eggs better against him, the soft scraping sound oddly comforting, and I sigh, my breath ruffling his feathers. “You are going to make one hell of a father, Callan.”
I turn and leave the egg chamber, the distance making my skin crawl with anxiety. Already I don’t want to be away from my eggs. Pausing in the hallway, I look back at the chamber. The archway seeming to pull at me like a magnet. My maternal drive doesn’t want to let me be far from my eggs. “Damn...” I stare down the hall where I know I left Callan, my heart racing uncomfortably in my chest.
“What’s wrong?” Balor takes me in his arms, his skin cool against mine, as Leander moves closer, his boots clicking on the stone floor. The dragons in the nest are already down the hall, their heavy footsteps echoing.
I look back down the hallway, my neck muscles tense with the effort not to run back. “My dragoness doesn’t want to be away from the eggs. I know Callan is in there, but she doesn’t want us to leave them.” My voice cracks slightly with the strain of fighting my instincts.
“Instincts are a bitch,” Balor says with a smile, his fangs glinting in the dim light. “Female basilisks lay their eggs and then leave them to fend on their own.”
“Nightmares give live birth and then expect their foals to run within an hour of being born. You don’t run, you’re left to die.” Leander kisses my cheek, his lips warm and reassuring against my skin, and I feel slightly better about not wanting to leave my eggs.
“How long does it take for a dragon’s egg to hatch?” Balor asks as he leads me down the hall towards the kitchen, the scent of cooking food growing stronger with each step.
“Around sixty days. It’s not exact.” We arrive in the kitchen, and the ancients are cooking, the sizzle of meat on the grill and the bubbling of pots creating a symphony of domestic sounds. Abraxis is setting the table, the clink of cutlery against plates ringing through the room. “Don’t forget food for Callan.” I stare down the hallway again, and my skin is itchy, a crawling sensation that makes me want to tear at it.
“You can’t leave them yet, can you?” Abraxis asks, his dark eyes understanding, and I shake my head no. He pulls out long bolts of fabric, the soft material slipping through his fingers, and hands me one that smells faintly of cedar.
“We can swaddle the eggs to us so we can wear it like you did the cursed eggs. Well, except these are much bigger,” Abraxis offers, and Ziggy bounces over, the floor vibrating slightly beneath his excited movements.
