Page 35 of Delinquent Dette
He felt for a while, fingers traversing Frikka’s belly, the tips delving in as exploratory magic breeched the surface with a barely perceptible glow. “Holy moly.Merde.Can we go somewhere where you can shift?”
Sten’s heart stopped in his chest. “Is—what is it?”
“Not sure. Let’s get somewhere where I can feel the dragon belly.” Bastien gestured, and they migrated downstairs into the nest where Frikka shirked his clothing with agitated gestures and shifted in a harsh morph of flesh to scale, the change lacking his usual smooth finesse.
Bastien approached with hands raised, laying them gently on Frikka’s gently pooched dragon belly.
Sten’s mind raced at thoughts ranging from none, to swollen tracts, to a clutch far larger than they could handle. So, when Bastien muttered, counting under his breath, a cold sweat broke over his brow.
“Merde, you’ll make Weston’s last laying lose its record. Two eggs. But I can’t count all the blanks, Frikka. I lost count at fifteen, they’re so crowded.” Bastien huffed and Frikka snorted, staring at his belly with wide, flame-blue eyes.
“What do we do?” Sten wrung his hands in mild panic, glancing from Frikka to Bastien.
“Lay a shit-ton of blanks. I need to run this by Pepa and Uncle Marc. Do you mind?” Bastien pulled out his phone.
Frikka nodded warily, and Sten gave Bastien a thumbs-up before he dialed. He gave a whispered conversation in French, the conversation informal and brief—likely Gaspard. When he glanced over at Sten, Bastien nodded. “Oui, Pepa.”
Sten wrung his hands once more as Bastien hung up. “They’re on their way. It’s notthatmuch of an issue. Pepa Ryan has had it before, and they just induce at five weeks instead of letting it go to six. The blank shells are softer, so they administer antibiotics preemptively after laying because a few blankswillburst.”
Frikka snorted, his face a contorted sneer. He’d had blanks burst before, always unpleasant. The fevers were never kind to a Dette. It wasn’t unheard of for a Dette to die from them, either.
“He will be okay, right?” Sten gathered his nerves and pushed forward to step up to Frikka. The Dette lowered his head into Sten’s arms and stayed there for a few breaths.
“Honestly, more than fine. We have technology, science, and weird Viking magic on our sides.” Bastien waved his hand about. “The only icky thing is the Pitocin drip, but I had a half dozen blanks my last heat and we did this to pass them. I abstained, so I was certain I didn’t have any fertile ones. Almost no downtime.”
Wild magic.Frikka snorted.But I understand the science magic has a place, and wild magic hasn’t aided me so.
“Good to know. So, if my notes are right…” Bastien thumbed through his phone, holding up a finger as he read through something. “You were given four drams of nestblossom oil. Gosh, that’s a lot. Marc approved it… I wouldn’t have, that’s for certain.”
Sten twisted his lips. He’d not been sure how much Frikka had taken, imbibed, spread over his body, anything. He trusted his Dette.
I was aware of the risks. I’m also an experienced nester. This tells us we have discovered a limit. Next heat, we can use less and see, or not.Frikka nuzzled into Sten’s chest.
“I think two will do, for now, Dette.” Sten patted Frikka’s cheek.
I wish to have a lizard army.Frikka headbutted at Sten, nearly knocking him off-balance.
“You have one. In grandchildren.” Sten wrestled with Frikka’s horns until the Dette lifted him off the ground a few inches.
Could always be bigger. A whole raiding clan!Frikka laughed in his dragon form, a puff of smoke curling at his nostrils.
“We left that past behind us. We earn our money, now.” Sten laughed as he swung his legs, wrapping them around Frikka’s neck to hold on as the Dette lifted him higher.
Every coin stolen was more than earned!Frikka shook his head and lay down, smothering Sten into the nest before he rolled and shifted, pulling a blanket over him in a smooth motion. Frikka never was one to be shy about his body, unless he carried. That always seemed to bring about a certain shyness in him that Sten adored. There with Frikka sitting up, blanket in his lap, Sten crawled over and kissed his Dette on his pretty lips before leaning down to kiss the gentle swell of his belly.
“It was, in a way. But it’s safer for us these days to invest. It’s like robbing humans in its own way.” Sten chuckled.
Frikka smiled, resting a hand on his stomach. He should have been able to tell how many young he carried, but he was as fearful of having pups again as Sten was, perhaps more so.
“Mind if I give you guys a few to cool off and go raid your fridge for a drink?” Bastien looked up from his phone and earned a thumbs-up from Frikka. With their permission, Bastien waltzed out, and Sten leaned into his mate and sighed blissfully.
“What worries you, Dette? Speak your mind. You usually have no trouble doing so.” Sten rested a hand on his stomach as if he could feel the life within. It solidified something real in his mind. They’d be parents again. Two this time. An easier number, for certain. And they didn’t have to buy a new vehicle. The Range Rover they’d kept as a prize was more than plenty to carry two pups.
“I think I am more worried about not worrying. I feel anxiety, yes. But there’s not a villain in my story anymore. I have nothing to fear. The gods would not be so cruel as to do to us the worst, again.” Frikka rested a hand over Sten’s. “All this means is that my laying will be a spectacle. It was for my first, remember?”
Sten hadn’t been permitted to watch the laying. The gothar had witnessed it, praising it as a beautiful thing. But permitted or not, Sten listened. When the gothar ran to the jarl’s longhouse, Sten followed, wringing his hands as six beautiful eggs were called out one by one and the blanks disposed of as tradition—drained, dried, and turned into ingredients for spells or magic work that they’d long since learned was useless.
“But I will be there. I will be in your heart, too. This time, our pups will be bonded to us in whole.” Sten couldn’t resist giving Frikka another kiss then held him until Bastien returned, a canof flavored fizzy water in hand as Gaspard trotted down after him.
