Page 38 of Bred By the Dragon

“And then you figured it out,” he finishes for me. “You solved the mystery.”

“We solved it together.” I drop my hand to the doorknob and start to open it. “Funny thing. But I’m glad we did. See you in a few weeks?”

I try to remain cheery even though I’m dreading it. Seeing him again, all my affection—and all my squashed, hurt feelings—have risen back up to the surface. Even in this cramped room, my dragon looks majestic and beautiful.

“See you in a few weeks,” Zakarion says with a resigned sigh.

I pull the door open and step out, leaving him there.

ZAKARION

The realtor insists that I have the ceiling fixed before she’ll try to sell my house, but I’m tired of dealing with bureaucracy, so instead I offer a steep discount on the final sale price to anyone willing to take the house off my hands, hole and all. She doesn’t like this much, but it sells quickly, and I walk away with enough cash to pay for all the medical bills that will come with Sammy’s pregnancy and birth.

Once the hatchling is in my care, I’ll be able to feed it and attend to its needs without piddly things like money. I will keep my hoard, and my history, and teach all of it to my hatchling. When I am finished here, there will be no reason to ever again return to this city.

So, I return to my mountain. The first night, I don’t even bother retreating down to the living quarters to sleep. I crawl on top of my hoard and lie there, hoping that when the hatchling is born and given to me, I’ll finally feel the happiness I’m craving.

That’s all this is: misplaced feelings. I’ve desired family ever since my parents died, and Sammy is the first close, intimate contact I’ve had since. Of course I care for her. Of course I want to hold her close, and kiss her soft, tiny mouth, and watch her get round with my hatchling in my own bed. That’s natural when you haven’t had enough love in your life, isn’t it? You latch onto the person closest to you, and hook in because you’re desperate.

We had amazing intercourse, and that’s all. My affection for Sammy is simply triggered by how wonderfully she fits around my cocks. It’s not about her, or her love of the countryside, or her bouncing dark curls, or her cute little house she fixed up herself, or her boundless optimism, or her generous heart?—

I groan, then I close my eyes and try to crawl my way into sleep, though all I can hear are the sounds of Sammy’s moans.

The week drags by slowly. I barely eat because my stomach is tied up in knots. Even my fire is quiet, my chest barely simmering. If I didn’t have the regular check-ups scheduled with Sammy, I would simply go into long sleep, the hibernation that’s allowed generations of dragons to pass the time quietly.

I wish I could be there, at her side, instead of moping around my mountain. I wish I could see each stage with her, curl up around her whenever she encounters difficulty. Is she sleeping? Is she eating? I hate not knowing, but I’m also too afraid to call her and find out. Just hearing her voice would make me painfully heartsick, thinking about everything I’m missing.

When our appointment rolls around, I fly back to the city slowly and lazily, because I’m both thrilled to see Sammy and frightened of it. I fear how helpless and heartsick I feel around her.

She greets me the same way as before, all smiles, without going out of her way to touch me. I don’t have the energy to fake it, though, so I’m sure I have a dour expression on my face as we go into the doctor’s office for her exam. She tries to keep on that smile, but even her endless cheer fades as the fetus is located, and I don’t react much to seeing that it’s grown larger.

Our hatchling, that we made together. I sowed it in her under the stars that night, and at least I will always remember that.

It repeats like this, on what feels like an endless cycle. I return to my mountain and sleep, then fly to the city at the next appointment. All we’re doing is walking closer to the day that Sammy and I never see each other again.

By the third visit, Sammy stops trying to be her bubbly self. We both sit in silence in the waiting room, then watch on the screen as the doctor excitedly points out our hatchling, growing inside.

“We won’t know the sex until it’s born, given how the genitals develop,” he explains to us. “It’ll be a fun surprise.”

I don’t like how tired Sammy appears, with dark lines under her eyes. When the doctor leaves us to let her dress again, I tap my claws together to draw her attention.

“Are you... taking care of yourself?” I ask, and I’ve spoken so little the last two months that my voice sounds scratchy, even to me.

She gives me a confused look. “I’m fine. I’m eating right and taking the vitamins.”

My jaw flexes at the awkwardness between us. “How much are you working?” I ask.

Her brows lower. “Why?” She may be human, but I can see her hackles rising. “I have bills to pay, Zakarion.”

The way she says my full name makes me ache.

“Bills?” I ask. “What sort of bills?”

“You know. Life. Had to fix my roof.” She tries to shrug like it doesn’t affect her, but it makes me increasingly concerned as she puts on her clothes and heads to the door. Still, I say nothing as she walks out and closes it behind her.

I was miserable for many, many years after the illness took my father. But somehow, this loneliness is worse.

Friends. We are not even that any longer.

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