Chapter 81 You're Trying to Breed Me?
Bella
If I never made eye contact with another living soul again, I would be perfectly content. The camp is already stirring by the time the sun begins to edge its way through the trees, pale gold filtering through smoke and ash. Someone has rekindled the fire, coaxing it back to life with careful hands, and the smell of something vaguely edible drifts through the air. Breakfast. Which means people. Which means Ashlyn. I tug my cloak tighter around my shoulders and edge toward the fire, trying very hard to look like a woman who did not, in fact, spend the night making enough noise to become camp legend. Every step feels louder than it should. Heads lift. Eyes flick my way. Conversations stutter, then resume with a little too much enthusiasm, a little too much effort to pretend nothing happened. I want to scream. Instead, I breathe. In. Out. Damien taught me that part. Ground. Anchor. Don’t freeze the world just because you want to disappear into it. Ashlyn spots me immediately. Her grin is slow and knowing.
“Oh, good,” she says brightly, patting the log beside her. “You’re alive.”
I drop down next to her, refusing to rise to it. “Barely.”
She hums, eyes dancing as she hands me a tin cup. “Tea. Thought you might need something calming.”
I take it gratefully, fingers wrapping around the warmth. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“I absolutely am.”
I take a sip and stare into the fire, hoping the flames might accept a sacrifice and consume me whole.
“So,” Ashlyn says casually, like we’re discussing the weather. “I do hope you’re using protection.”
I choke. Tea goes down the wrong way, burning my throat as I cough and sputter, nearly dropping the cup. Ashlyn leans back, thoroughly pleased with herself.
“Protection?” I manage once I can breathe again, turning to stare at her. “Protection from what?”
Her grin vanishes, and her eyes widen. “Oh my gods,” she breathes. “You are using protection, right?”
I blink. Once. Twice. “Ashlyn,” I say carefully, “what are you talking about?”
She leans closer, lowering her voice like this is some terrible secret. “Bella. Do you not understand how potent a Dragon King’s seed would be?”
I freeze. My mind blanks entirely. “I—” I start, then stop. “Seed?”
Her hands fly up. “Oh no. No, no, no. You don’t know, do you?”
I shake my head slowly, dread pooling in my stomach. “Know… what?”
She stares at me like I’ve just admitted I don’t know how fire works. “You do know what protection is, right?” she asks cautiously.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Ashlyn’s face softens, horror dawning. “Oh, honey.” She turns fully toward me now, voice dropping but expression entirely too animated. “He needs to wrap that thing so you don’t get pregnant with some giant-ass, flying, fire-breathing babies.”
I splutter. “With what?”
I set the cup down before I drop it, my hands suddenly very unsteady. “The books I’ve read have never mentioned anything about this. Protection? Wrap it with what? Wouldn’t that… defeat the purpose?”
Ashlyn stares at me. Then she shakes her head slowly. “Oh lordy. No.”
My stomach twists. “Ashlyn…”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Deep breaths. We’re going to back this up.”
I barely hear her as my thoughts spiral. Babies? Dragon babies? Fire? Wings? Me?
“That’s—” I whisper. “That’s not something he said was… possible.”
“Well,” she says grimly, “men rarely lead with that.”
Before I can respond, the air shifts. I feel it before I see him, that familiar tug along my spine, the quiet awareness blooming in my chest as the bond stirs. He approaches the fire from the far side of camp, movements controlled, eyes alert, dragon just beneath the surface like always. He looks… calm and grounded. I am neither of those things. He stops short when he reaches us, gaze flicking to my face, then Ashlyn’s, his brow furrowing.
“What are you two talking about?” he asks, voice low, “and why does my snowflake feel distressed through the bond?”
My breath catches, and before I can answer, his jaw tightens, eyes darkening slightly.
“The mouthy one,” the dragon’s voice rumbles through the bond, utterly unconcerned with privacy, “is telling Snowflake about how we’re trying to breed her.”
My eyes go wide, and my mouth opens. “You’re trying to what?” I blurt out loud, panic flooding my voice. “Breed me? Like… a fire-breathing baby?”
The entire camp goes still, and Damien freezes. Then — gods help me — he blushes. Not a subtle flush. A full, unmistakable bloom of colour across his cheeks as he visibly tells the dragon to shut up with a sharp mental shove I feel through the bond. “That is not—” He stops, exhales, then tries again, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I am not intentionally trying to breed you.”
I stare at him. “But,” he continues carefully, “those… things…”
“Condoms,” Ashlyn supplies brightly.
“Yes,” Damien says stiffly. “Those. They would melt under my dragon’s fire.”
Ashlyn chokes. Actually chokes, coughing hard, clutching her chest as she tries to breathe through a fit of laughter and disbelief.
“Ah—” she wheezes. “Yeah. Okay. You don’t want that.”
I sit there, stunned, my face burning hotter than Damien’s fire ever could.
Ashlyn finally recovers, wiping her eyes. “Well,” she says cheerfully, “look out. Nine months’ time, you may regret having such a monstrous mate.”
Damien shoots her a warning look. I, on the other hand, just stare into the fire, mind racing. Fire-breathing babies. Dragon wings. Me.
Damien shifts closer, voice lowering so only I can hear. “Bella. Look at me.”
I do. His eyes are steady and gentle. No fear. No expectation. Just honesty. “We’ll figure it out,” he says quietly. “Together.”
The panic eases, just a fraction.
I nod, swallowing hard. “Okay.”
The dragon rumbles through the open line of communication again, "Snowflake would look beautiful swollen with our child."
And I see the moment Damien's eyes flick to my stomach and then back to my eyes. There's the faintest twitch of the corner of his mouth as warmth floods through the bond. Oh gods, he does want to breed me.
Ashlyn grins into her cup. “Breakfast really brings people together, doesn’t it?”
I groan and drop my head into my hands. Someone really needs to write a book on the very specific reproductive risks that come with bonding to a dragon.