Chapter 14

fourteen

SAMMY

I’d never have done it if I knew Zakarion would... well, not care .

When I called him, he sounded like I was delivering the weather report. I wonder what’s changed. Before, having a hatchling of his own was all he wanted. That’s why he did this, why he found me in the first place, why he went to DreamTogether at all.

I wonder if I’ve made a big mistake committing the next who-knows-how-many months of my life to gestating a dragon’s baby, when he doesn’t seem to give a shit.

When we get off the phone, I set it down neatly on the bed before finally allowing the tears rush in. I let them fall for a while, until I get tired of myself being a sad sack and make a phone call to a local ob-gyn to make an appointment. It’s a week from now, and even though I know Zakarion said he prefers calls, I send him a text anyway. I don’t know if I can bear to hear his voice right now.

Appointment at 10am next Tuesday.

I don’t get an answer. Hours later, when I still have heard no reply, I crawl under my blankets and hide there, almost wishing I’d never applied for DreamTogether, so I would never have met him.

A day later, I do get an answer:

All right.

I grind my teeth together, my sadness and regret morphing into frustration. I shouldn’t let this bother me; this was a business transaction from the very start. But the way he’s treating me like a stranger hurts.

This is all for the best, then. I didn’t want to fall in love with a dragon, and now any feelings I might have had for him have, thankfully, dried up. We are not even friends.

I bury myself in work, even though this early in the pregnancy, I feel like trash all the time. I can tell my body is flooding with strange hormones, making me touchy and snappish at the partygoers who get into my car. I don’t get morning sickness, like I’d expected, which is my one saving grace. I do start to crave foods I don’t normally eat, like barely-cooked steak, or a turkey leg right off the grill.

But as hard as I’m working, I still can’t save up enough to get rid of this roofing bill and still make my mortgage payment. The roofer is growing irritated with me now that the work is done. On my day off, I fix some grout in my bathroom and grease the swings on the playground so they don’t squeak whenever a wind blows past.

While I sit on one, aimlessly swinging back and forth, I wonder if Zakarion will let me see the baby after its born. I run a hand over my stomach, imagining where it will grow, and at least that brings me warmth. I never imagined myself having a child before, but here I am. This one will be quite special, too, and I’m grateful I can be a part of that.

That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

My friends invite me out for drinks, so I tell them about the positive test result, and they demand they come over to celebrate instead. They all bring food and bubbly water, and even homemade lemonade. I put on my best smile and pretend everything is as it should be, and this is what I wanted.

“But you’ve been working so much lately,” Sarah says as our friends dive into a card game. “Is it really a good idea to sustain that while you’re pregnant?”

“Why not?” I ask. “It doesn’t change anything. My body still works fine. I’m just going to be carting around some extra weight for a while.”

“I think it’s a little more involved than that,” she says, her brow furrowed. But I just wave her off with a smile.

That smile stays on my face as Tuesday rolls around and I head to the ob-gyn’s office. It’s in a monster area in the hope that the room will be big enough for Zakarion to fit, and the doctor will know what to do with a human-dragon hybrid.

When I walk into the waiting room, I find a big, red, hulking dragon sitting on the far end, in the area meant for children to play games. Even here, he’s a little too big to fit. There’s a very pregnant orc woman sitting there, as well as a pair of gargoyles with a toddler scrambling from one lap to another.

Zakarion’s head rises when I walk in, and for a second I catch a glimpse of the old Zak. He’s hopeful and excited, and I’m relieved when I see that part of him.

But then, when I sit down beside him, the smile fades and he goes as cold as a stone again.

“Sammy,” he says, tipping his head. “I hope you’re well?”

“Yes, yes. Doing great. Taking my vitamins and exercising.” I smile and flex. “Staying strong.”

He nods. “Good.”

“How are you?” I venture, sitting in a nearby chair. Neither of us moves to be closer to each other.

“I am fine.” He bows his head. “Thank you for doing this.”

“For doing what?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again, like he’s not sure what he should say.

“It’s fine,” I say quickly. “I understand. You don’t have to say thank you. I chose to do this, remember?”

He studies me. “Yes, you did. And I appreciate that more than you know.”

Sure doesn’t seem like it , I think. But I have to remember I didn’t just do this just for him. Right?

We wait in silence until we’re called in. The doctor is a rather tall yeti with so much hair I can barely see his eyes. He has me pee in a cup, and sends the sample away to be analyzed. Then he asks me to me lie down on the table, and brings out an ultrasound wand.

Great.

Zakarion pushes the chair next to the patient table out of the way and sits on the floor while the doctor works, finding the right image. The yeti points at the screen.

“See, there?” he says, and we both peer at it. I don’t see anything. “That’s the sac where the fetus will grow. It’s attached properly to the uterine lining.” He smiles at both of us. “It’s still very early, but all looks good. I’d like to see you again in a few weeks.”

“All right,” I say breezily. “Sounds good.”

The doctor leaves, and I hastily put my clothes back on while Zakarion sits in the corner of the room. He doesn’t speak until I’ve zipped up my jeans and I’m headed to the door, so I turn around and offer my most radiant smile.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” I say. “We made a baby, the two of us. I didn’t think it would work, and then?—”

“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 .

When I return to my mountain, I stand over my hoard, surveying it. Then I pull a notebook out of my backpack, click a pen, and start writing down everything I can think of—every last piece of history, every last memory attached to each of the items in my collection.

Then I fly a little bit south, to where my phone reception is reliable, and make a call.

At the next appointment, Sammy is visibly showing. She gives me a weak greeting in the waiting room, and my heart feels sore. I return it, and once again, we pass another visit without even making eye contact.

As we head out the door and into the gently-falling snow, Sammy turns to me and waves. “Well, see you next time,” she says, biting her lip before heading off toward her car.

“Wait.”

She pauses. “What is it?”

I reach into my backpack and search around until my hand lands on the envelope. I withdraw it, then hold it out to her.

“Zakarion?” she asks, examining the envelope but not taking it.

“For your roof,” I say. “I called those people, like you suggested. And I’ve started cataloguing everything in my hoard to see what belongs where. Anything that isn’t significant... I’ve found legitimate buyers.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re selling off your treasure?” She looks at the envelope with even more confusion. “Why?”

I thrust the money into her hand, and she squeaks as I trap it there. “Take it,” I tell her firmly. “Please.”

Her brows crease as I release her, and she takes the envelope gently. Her lashes are wet and her eyes are red when she looks up at me again.

“Okay,” she finally says. “Thank you.”

Then she turns and walks away into the snow.

I have to hope this will all get better when my hatchling is with me. Then I’ll have a purpose and a reason to live. I watch her get into her car, wishing I could go with her, that I could curl around her as the weather gets colder and keep both of my woman and my hatchling warm.

Eventually, I flap my wings and take off into the sky, letting the snow wash over me.