Page 41 of Bred By the Dragon

“Cool, huh?” the yeti says, pulling the instrument away. The screen goes dark. He presses some buttons, and a photo he took pops back up. I reach out to touch the screen, where the little baby dragon’s head is curled down so its body forms an egg shape. “I’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes before we talk next steps?”

I nod, and the doctor departs. When he’s gone, I study the picture further, then turn to Zakarion. His eyes aren’t fixed on the screen, but on his hands where they’re clasped tightly together.

Why isn’t he happy? Why isn’t he enjoying this, seeing our kid for the first time? I wish I understood.

I slide my hand into his, and his head jerks up in surprise. I pull away his thumb, as it’s the most I can get my fingers around, and drag it towards my belly. There I place his hand flat, and his big, yellow eyes widen.

“Sammy?” he asks, uncertainty in his voice.

I put my palm on his knuckles and try to smile, but there’s too much sadness behind it to hold it for long.

“Neat, isn’t it?” I ask, trying not to sound as nervous as I feel. “We made this.”

He nods in agreement, but his face shows very little. I sigh, and my shoulders sag. This is supposed to be happy, that we succeeded, that dragons will continue on for another generation.

I need to say it, or I might just burst.

“Zakarion?”

He tries to pull his hand away, but I don’t let him.

“What is it?” he asks, clearly perplexed by this extended contact.

“I lied to you.” What an opener.

Zakarion frowns even further. “You lied? When?”

“When you asked how I felt.” I take a mighty breath, trying to shore up my strength for what I have to say. “And I said you were my friend.”

His hand jerks under mine like he’s about to pull it back, but I press down, keeping him anchored to my belly. His wide eyes find mine again.

“I didn’t mean it,” I say, and I can’t stop the tears now squeezing out and tumbling down my cheeks. Zakarion inhales sharply. “That wasn’t true at all. You’re so much more than a friend to me. So, so much more. And?—”

A sob I didn’t expect cuts me off. Now he looks more worried than surprised, and his other hand reaches out to land on my shoulder.

“Sammy...?” he asks, tilting his head to one side, confusion twisting his face.

“And...” I hiccup, trying to get the words out. “And... I think... I think that I probably...”

I’m too busy crying now to finish my sentence. Suddenly arms wrap around me, and Zakarion pulls me roughly against his body, though I’m still halfway on the doctor’s table. His claws sink into my shirt, and his long neck curls down to fully embrace me. “Sammy,” he says, his voice miserable. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

“I c-can’t help i-it.” I hiccup again, now in the middle of a full-blown episode. Fucking hormones. “I h-hate not... not talking to you. I hate h-how cold it is between us. I miss you. I miss you so much, Zak.” I slap my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry, I keep forgetting?—”

“It’s fine. Shh.” He wraps his arms even tighter around me, and the warmth of his chest feels so, so good against my cheek. “You can call me whatever you want, Sammy. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“For what?” I sniff, wiping away my tears.

“For making you cry.” He leans back, and raises his head to get a good look at me. “I didn’t know you were holding all this inside.”

“You don’t hate me?” I ask, perplexed.

He looks equally as taken aback. “Hate you...?” Sadness fills his eyes. “You thought I hated you?”

“I don’t know!” I sniffle again as I try to right myself on the patient table. “Either me, or the hatchling, or both of us.”

His mouth falls open. “No!” He fervently shakes his head. “Oh, no. That’s the opposite of the truth.”

I wipe my snot away with my sleeve. “Then what is the truth?”

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