Chapter 209 Side Story 2

Chapter 209 Side Story 2
Lysaa's POV

No one tells you how hard it is to raise dragon hybrids.

Not that there’s a manual for it, anyway. But even if there were, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have covered what it felt like to lay five eggs, the agonizing weeks of incubation, and the terrifying wait to see if they’d all hatch safely.

I remember every second of it.

The clutch arrived just a month after Lorien and I had our mating ceremony. I wasn’t expecting it to happen so fast, and definitely not expecting it to be so… intense. But dragons don’t follow the same rules as wolves. Everything about them—about us—is more. More powerful. More primal. More overwhelming.

When the pregnancy first started, I thought it would be like any normal werewolf pregnancy. But then the cravings kicked in. Not the usual stuff like pickles and ice cream. No, I wanted things like rare venison and obsidian crystals, which Lorien had to fly halfway across the continent to find. And the dreams—visions, really—of fire and wings and ancient mountains, where dragons ruled the skies and the world was wild and untamed.

Lorien stayed by my side through it all, endlessly patient and impossibly calm, even when I wasn’t. Especially when I wasn’t.

Then came the eggs. Five of them.

I can still picture them as clearly as if it were yesterday. They were beautiful—each one the size of a small watermelon, with shimmering, iridescent shells that glowed faintly in the dark. They were warm to the touch, pulsing with life, and I could feel the tiny heartbeats inside them, thrumming in sync with mine.

We had to move out of the Pack house to our own separate building to ensure ideal conditions for them to hatch.

For two weeks, we kept them safe and warm in the special incubation chamber Lorien built beneath our home. He told me it was similar to how dragon eggs had been cared for back in Solaria, and even though I didn’t fully understand the magic of it, I trusted him. He knew what he was doing.

Still, the waiting was unbearable. Every day, I checked on them at least a dozen times, watching for any sign that they were ready to hatch. Every night, I dreamed of wings and fire and the tiny dragons growing inside those shimmering shells.

And then, one night, it finally happened.

I woke up to the sound of cracking.

At first, I thought I was still dreaming. But then Lorien’s hand tightened around mine, and I realized he was awake too, his ruby eyes glowing in the darkness.

“They’re hatching,” he whispered, his voice rough with awe.

We rushed to the incubation chamber, my heart pounding so hard I could barely breathe. And there they were, our five little dragons, breaking free of their shells with tiny claws and tiny wings and tiny, furious roars that echoed off the stone walls.

It was the most terrifyingly beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Each of them was perfect in their own way. Ryn, with his shimmering blue scales and mischievous golden eyes. Tetris, who had Lorien’s fiery red coloring and a curious streak a mile wide. Duncan, solid and steady, with dark bronze scales and a quiet strength that reminded me of his father. Eina, delicate and graceful, with silver wings that sparkled like moonlight. And Violet, my little wildflower, with deep violet scales and a fierce, stubborn spirit that let you know right away she wasn’t to be messed with.

For the first few weeks, they were small enough to fit in my arms, and I spent every waking moment tending to them—feeding them, keeping them warm, and marveling at how quickly they grew.

Dragons grow fast. Faster than I ever could have imagined. By the time they were a month old, they were already the size of toddlers, with tiny wings that flapped furiously whenever they got excited. And by the time they hit the three-month mark, they had learned to fly—thanks to Lorien, who seemed to think it was the most natural thing in the world to teach a group of baby dragons how to take to the skies.

Now, seven months after their birth, they’re more like teenagers than toddlers. They’ve outgrown their baby phase and are full-fledged little terrors, each with their own distinct personality and enough energy to burn down half the Pack if we’re not careful.

They won’t be able to shift into their human forms until they turn a year old, and until then, I’m stuck chasing after them, replacing the stuff they scorch, and talking my head off trying to keep them in line.

Some days, I feel like I’m going to lose my mind. Days like today…

It wasn’t the fire that nearly broke me. Or the flying. Or even the fact that Ryn, Tetris, and Duncan seemed to think it was completely acceptable to wrestle midair while breathing actual flames at each other. No, what finally did me in was the glitter.

There was so much glitter.

“Princess Violet, do you take this humble knight to be your devoted protector?” Eina’s voice was sweet and melodic as she twirled a plastic tiara between her tiny claws. She and Violet had set up a tea party in the middle of the living room—a tea party that had apparently required buckets of glitter, dozens of frilly pink scarves, and an alarming number of plastic jewels.

Violet, perched delicately on top of the sofa like the queen of all dragons, gave her sister a solemn nod. “I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me by the Sparkly Kingdom of Fire and Rainbows, I pronounce you—”

Before Eina could finish, a deafening roar cut through the air, followed by a loud thud as Duncan crash-landed right in the middle of the tea party, scattering glitter and plastic tea cups in every direction.

“Hey!” Violet screeched, her tiny wings flaring as she launched herself off the sofa and tackled her brother.

“Mom! She’s biting me!” Duncan wailed, flailing dramatically as Violet clamped down on his arm with her surprisingly sharp baby teeth.

“Because you destroyed our royal banquet!” Violet snapped, her voice muffled by his scales.

“Enough!” I snapped, grabbing the fire extinguisher that was never too far away and spraying, sending a burst of carbon dioxide through the room that doused the flames still crackling on Duncan’s tail and made everyone freeze in place.

Five sets of wide, guilty eyes turned toward me.

I took a deep breath, trying to summon every ounce of patience I had left. “Duncan, apologize to your sister. Violet, let go of your brother’s arm. Ryn, Tetris—stop laughing, you’re next on my list.”

Ryn and Tetris, who had been hovering near the ceiling and snickering at their siblings’ fight, immediately sobered up and dropped to the floor with sheepish grins.

“Sorry, Violet,” Duncan mumbled, rubbing his arm.

Violet huffed but let him go, crossing her arms and glaring at him like she was seriously reconsidering their sibling bond.

Satisfied that the immediate crisis had been averted, I glanced around the room and sighed. There were scorch marks on the walls, glitter embedded in the carpet, and one of the curtains was still smoldering despite my best efforts to keep the fires under control.

And where was Lorien, you ask?

I turned my head just in time to see my mate casually fixing the leg of the dining room table like it was just another Tuesday afternoon. His long red hair was tied back in a loose braid, and he had a smear of ash on his cheek that did absolutely nothing to diminish how ridiculously handsome he was.

“Lorien,” I said, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice. “A little help here?”

He looked up, his scarlet eyes twinkling with amusement. “You’re doing great, love.”

I gave him a look. The kind of look that said I’m two seconds away from nailing you to that table.

Chuckling, he set down his tools and walked over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close. “Alright, alright. What do you need?”

“A time machine,” I said dryly. “Or a vacation. Either one will do.”

Lorien laughed, the deep, rumbling sound making my chest ache in that familiar, head-over-heels way it always did. “A vacation, huh?”

I nodded, resting my head against his chest. “Just a couple of hours. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere without fire or glitter or midair wrestling matches.”

Lorien pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and I felt his lips curve into a smile against my hair. “I think I can make that happen.”

I pulled back just enough to look up at him, one eyebrow raised. “And what about them?” I gestured to our children, who had already gone back to their respective activities—Eina and Violet rebuilding their tea party, and Ryn, Tetris, and Duncan quietly plotting what I could only assume was their next aerial battle.

Lorien’s smile widened. “We’ll leave them with Kamrynn.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, biting my lip. “That’s a lot to ask. I mean, they’re—”

“Dragons,” Lorien finished for me, grinning. “And Kamrynn’s handled worse. She’ll be fine.”

Before I could protest further, he closed his eyes and reached out to Kamrynn via the mindlink. A moment later, he opened them again, looking smug.

“She said she’d be happy to babysit.”

I blinked, surprised. “Really?”

“Really,” Lorien said, pulling me closer. “So, my love, what do you say? Ready for a little adventure?”