Page 67 of The Wrath of Ashes
“No flying needed.” Ghreid gestured for Rath to follow as they went down the other side of his wing to Slath’s hall. He made a show of tilting his head and gesturing toward the door where the sounds of some rather terse voices whispered out.
“He’s in Slath’s chambers?” It was unlike Slath to have company, especially another dragon. Especially Graylan. The two had bitter blood between them.
Ghreid knocked twice and the voices ceased. A few moments passed before Slath approached the door wearing nothing but a nightrobe and glared, expression shifting to one of alarm. “Graylan?”
Ghreid nodded for Rath, who found himself leaning to peer down Slath’s hall.
“Mind your business, Brother.” Slath slammed the door and barked something at Graylan within, the other male rustling around in a rush before stumbling out in comfortable clothes in a state of dishevelment. Arousal hung thick about him, but they’d not been fucking, for what Rath could smell. Perhaps he interrupted?
The pointed determination in Graylan’s eyes masked whatever had been going on, but Slath wore his emotions on his sleeve. Deep furrows and pinned dimples let Rath know their encounter hadn’t been fruitful.
Whatever had been going on was of no consequence as Graylan shouldered his bag and marched on, leading the way to Rath’s chambers. Ghreid went off his own way as Slath did the same—presumably to gather the rest of them.
When they arrived back in Rath’s nest, Asha sat up with a hiss, a blanket drawn over his lap. A hand rested firmly over his belly which squeezed into a lopsided shape, highlighting the two eggs within.
“Figured you’d know before me,” Asha grumbled as he shifted into a comfortable position, lounging in a rather complicated twist of limbs. Whatever eased his stress.
“It was a good hunch.” Rath knelt at the side of the nest and Graylan whipped around him, rolling his sleeves.
“Have you been taking walks as I asked?”
Asha nodded. “I was on one earlier with Ghreid until Rath retrieved me and stuffed me in my nest again.”
Graylan gave Rath an annoyed glance. “I’d argue, but I suppose if my mate were gravid, I’d be protective, too. I only happen to know better—no fault to you.”
Rath withheld comment, relaxing as Asha allowed Graylan to invade his space. Even with his hands wandering Asha’s belly and pulling back covers to show his bare form, Rath held his composure. This would be the moon that brought them their young.
Graylan summoned fire over his hands and wiped them on a rag from his bag. “A basin of water, if you please. If I can keep his vent warm and damp, we can minimalize tearing.”
Asha’s eyes widened at the prospect of tearing, but he remained silent. Life happened how it happened, and thousands of dragons had laid before him, so he would be fine. His mate was there to protect him and the fates had blessed them.
With little protest, Rath rose to his feet and left to retrieve the basin of water. Perhaps it did something, or perhaps not. In any case, it was something for Rath to do besides feel useless.
Asha closed his eyes and waited for things to commence, a victim of circumstance, a mere actor in the play of their life. For as much as he mattered to Rath, he had little say in what was about to happen, and it was tragic but poetic in a way.
Rath plucked a basin from their washing pedestal and poured from the taps, using his fires to heat it to near boiling. Birthing required boiling water, right? It was safe to assume—in any case, Graylan could cool it if he desired. Magic was easy for them, after all.
When he returned, Asha had moved to all fours, a blanket draped over his back. From nowhere, Lyss had arrived and sat smugly in a corner. Rath wanted to tell her to leave, but she meant the world to Asha. Jeron hung around the doorway, his face a mask of unease.
“Get in here, ya twat!” Lyss huffed, and Jeron locked eyes with Rath, face pale and drawn.
“It’s fine. I apologize for my outbursts, Jeron.” Asha sighed heavily and lowered his head, the chains on his horns gently clinking as he did so.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, my lord.” Jeron slid in, one uneasy step at a time.
“What did you say to him, Asha?” Rath would chastise him later—after his labor.
“I snapped at him to get out and leave me alone. I cannot apologize enough,” Asha said, his voice hoarse and stilted.
“It’s my fault. Really, I was brazen. I took liberties I shouldn’t have and assumed my presence was wanted.” Jeron fidgeted and Lyss, thankfully, intervened. Jeron hadn’t been that shy or withdrawn since he’d first met Rath. The youth in his eyes so apparent, the flame color pale.
“Jeron, I cannot state enough how much a bearer feels the urge to protect their young. He’s welcoming you, now. Take that liberty.” Graylan gestured for Jeron to approach and tucked the blanket in for privacy. “Rath, come do the massages I taught you.”
Rath sat the bowl down at Graylan’s side and ushered toward Asha, hands at the ready to navigate his mate’s hips and back. The swell of them had greatly enticed Rath as of late, but it was not the time to appreciate his body.
Asha panted for a few long, pained moments as Graylan wetted a rag and slid it beneath Asha’s tail.
“Are you certain I didn’t overstep?” Jeron knelt at the side of the nest and held himself stiff, eyes full of worry for his behavior and for his charge.
