Page 14 of Bred By the Dragon

But the guilt eats at me as the tests still come up negative. He has all of his hopes for the future of dragons pinned on this.

I wonder what’s wrong? There isn’t much online about dragon fertility—only that the population has been in decline for some time, and few new hatchlings have been born since the 70s. I look up everything else I can, including how lizards mate, to see if I can discover a solution, but all I learn is that they’re highly sensitive animals.

The day of the appointment, I’m strapped onto the table that’s held up well enough so far. It helps when he isn’t desperately fucking me with everything both of us are worth. I wish I could bite my nails as I wait for him to come in, because all I can think about is his dejected face as he left last time.

Then the door opens. In steps one long, crimson leg, and behind it, the dragon appears in the doorway, all nine feet of long neck and claws and fangs. His tail looks stiff behind him as he walks in, and his brows tilt down as he studies me.

“Hello,” I say brightly, but all this does is appear to upset him more. He closes the door behind him, then walks towards me until we’re face to face at a polite six feet apart.

“I’m not going to mate with you today,” he says, before he’s even greeted me. The smile falls from my mouth in my surprise.

“What?” My body feels heavy. He really is going to fire me. “Why not?” A spark of panic flares to life. But I’ve gotten so used to this job, and I need the money right now. I can’t?—

“It is nothing against you,” he says, his eyes sliding away from my face. I don’t know him that well, but it sounds like a lie. “I’ve run out of money.”

I can almost breathe again, but perhaps this is worse, because then I can’t convince him to keep trying.

“I thought you had a hoard?” I ask tentatively.

He shakes his head. “It’s now without any value,” he says, his tone a little guarded. “I can no longer pay.”

I search his yellow, reptilian eyes for some sign that this isn’t true, that we’re not done. Now I regret last time immensely. He won’t even use his last appointment. We’re out of time and out of chances.

“I’m sorry,” I say, lowering my head. “I know this was a dream of yours. That there aren’t many of you left. I know it was—” I’m surprised when my own voice comes out choked. “—important to you.”

He looks resigned. “I don’t know if it was going to work anyway.” His tail curls around his feet, like he’s protecting himself. “Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be, at least, not for me. I was not intended to have a hatchling.” He rubs the back of his head, his neck hanging low, making him look even smaller.

“Of course it’s meant for you,” I say, almost harshly. His eyebrows rise. “You’re sweet, and kind, and gentle. No one deserves a baby more than you.”

It’s all true. Faced with the threat that we might not see each other again, I have to admit that he’s become incredibly special to me, and so has his mission. He invested so much in this, the idea of having a child of his own, and now that dream is crushed.

Confusion settles on his face. “I thought I had offended you,” the dragon says. “Is that not the case?”

I blink at him, equally perplexed by his question. “Offended me? No, of course not. You’ve been nothing but a gentleman. A... gentle-dragon.” I offer one of my most enthusiastic customer service smiles, but when I do, he frowns deeper.

“I see.” He lifts his chin and his expression hardens. Whatever’s happened, my attempt to play happy and friendly is having the opposite effect on him. “I suppose our business is concluded, then.”

What? No. I can’t let him leave like this.

“Wait,” I call out as he turns around. I wish I could pull out of these damn straps and reach towards him. I want him to stop and just think for a moment. “What are you going to do?”

He pauses, but doesn’t look back at me. “Nothing. I will return to life the way it was before I met you.”

He doesn’t say before DreamTogether. No, it’s before me.

It’s infinitely sad to see him like this, hardened and hopeless. I don’t like it. He’s cheerful and considerate and open, optimistic about the future of his species.

I open my mouth to speak again, but I don’t know what to say. That I don’t want him to go? That I want a proper goodbye?

Instead of any of those things, I say, “Let me help you.” It just comes out, but the moment I say it, it’s all I want. I’m not ready to say goodbye to him, and I don’t want him to give up.

Now the dragon does turn to me, one eyebrow lifted. “You have helped me enough,” he says. “It was never going to work.”

“But we were both tested!” I say, helplessness creeping into my voice. “There’s no reason it shouldn’t work. It just needs more time to?—”

“There is no more time.” The way he says it isn’t harsh, but final.

“There’s no more time here,” I counter. “At DreamTogether. But...” I know what I’m about to say is crazy—crazy and probably stupid. “But there’s plenty of time if we, um, left.”

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