Page 62 of Sacrificed to the Dragon

As the feel of his children’s skin helped to calm him, he only hoped he wasn’t lying.

* * *

Melanie hearda voice so faint she couldn’t make out whether it was male or female, let alone what they were saying. There was so much noise. Beeping and yelling. Metal crashing and more yelling.

But she didn’t hear the cries of her children.

Her children. Where were they?

Then she felt a jolt go through her body followed by a split-second burning, which caused her to gasp in a mouthful of air. She opened her eyes and saw four dragon-shifters standing around her.

As her muddled mind tried to figure out what was going on, one of the dragonwomen—the doctor, she remembered—said, “Melanie. Thank fuck. Can you hear me?”

It took a colossal amount of energy for her to whisper, “Sid?”

“Yes, it’s me. You’re going to be okay.”

“Tristan?”

“He’ll be back soon. You know how protective male dragon-shifters are, so I kicked him out. He’s with your children.”

Her children. She wanted her children. “Where are my babies?”

Sid said, “We’ll bring them in shortly. I think you’re out of the danger zone, but I want to monitor you for the next ten minutes just to make sure and also deliver the afterbirth. It’s safe for you to fall asleep, so close your eyes and I’ll wake you when Tristan comes back with your twins.”

She whispered, “Tristan,” before her eyes slid closed. After nearly a day and a half in labor, she couldn’t help but fall asleep.

A short time later, she woke to someone shaking her. “Melanie, wake up. Tristan’s here.”

At the sound of her mate’s name, Melanie forced her eyes open. Her brain was still bleary with exhaustion, but her power nap had helped with her concentration.

The doctor moved out of the way and she saw Tristan holding two little bundles.

The picture of her tall, muscled dragonman holding two tiny, ridiculously pastel bundles in green and yellow made her smile. “Hi,” she whispered.

Tristan rushed to her side and maneuvered himself into the chair at her bedside. He leaned over and kissed her before he said, “Hi, yourself.”

“You’re being nice to me. It’s weird.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry, it won’t last long. Now, how would you like to meet your children, Melanie Hall-MacLeod?”

Tears filled her eyes and she nodded. He raised one bundle, the yellow one, and said, “This is our daughter,” —he then raised the green bundle— “and this is our son.”

She was too exhausted to attempt picking up either of her children. Instead, she said, “Can you place one in the crook of my arm, Tristan?”

“I can do better than that.”

He rearranged her arm and placed their daughter. Then he gently laid their son on her chest and kept him steady by supporting him with his hand.

At the feel of the warmth of her two children, tears rolled down her cheeks. Happy seemed too tame a word to describe what she felt right now.

As she looked from her son to her daughter and then up to her mate, she decided she felt complete.

Tristan kissed her, lingering a few seconds before pulling away. “Sid told me we only have a few minutes before I need to let you rest. So I wanted to tell you our children’s names first.”

She frowned. “Tell me? Since when do you get to decide?”

He grinned. “I think you will like my names.”

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