Fire Dragon's Baby

by Scarlett Grove

  “Please,” she gasped, arms still outstretched for him.

  The medics wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in his mother's arms. Celeste's eyes filled with tears as the feeling in her legs started to return. She sat up, feeling almost perfectly fine. Her beautiful baby's little fists bobbed around in front of his face, handsome and strong like his father. His eyes were dark and his skin was dusty red. She reached down and kissed the tiny hand and little cheeks.

  A wellspring of love erupted in her heart. It burst through all the sorrow and pain of the past. She gasped at the power of it. She'd never felt so in love with anyone or anything in her life. Wispy dark black hair fluttered above her baby’s handsome little face. His eyes were dark like his father’s. She felt she'd finally found the love of her life when she looked at her son.

  “Prince Salvatt would like to have a word with you,” the medic said.

  “Another recorded message?” she asked, gazing down at her little angel.

  “Not this time.”

  Celeste looked up, her eyes bulging. A three dimensional hologram of Salvatt stood before her, looking down at her and the baby. She felt her face flush red, thinking of how she must look right now. She'd wanted him to meet her in her sexiest dress, not post-delivery in a hospital gown with messed up hair.

  “Greetings, mate. You have done well in bringing me a son.”

  “Thank you. I'm so happy to finally meet you, Salvatt. I have so much to say.”

  “Those things must wait, for now. My purpose today is to come to an agreement on the name for our son. I propose he be called Prince Shishone Nixtok Dorr. Do you object?”

  “I was thinking more like Tyler?”

  “Tyler? Is that a human name? I don't like it.”

  “Oh,” Celeste said, taken aback by his abrupt tone. “How about Shiloh for a first name? It sounds similar to...what was that again?”

  “Shishone. I can see the wisdom in you knowing your own baby's name. Prince Shiloh Nixtok Dorr. It is settled. I must go.”

  “Salvatt?” she started.

  “I must not linger. Each nanosecond brings my mating impulse closer to a head. There is still much for me to endure before you arrive, mate. I must leave you.”

  His hologram blipped out and her lips pressed together. A tear formed in the corner of her eye. She felt such a mix of emotions she couldn't settle on a single one. Her baby filled her with pride and joy, and a kind of love she'd never imagined possible. Meeting Salvatt added a whole other layer of feelings she wasn't ready for today. Her heart wouldn't slow down. But his abrupt departure brought up things she'd been hiding from herself all along.

  She was scared he wouldn't love her. She was scared they wouldn't be able to understand each other and wouldn't get along.

  The medics pushed her bed down the hallway and back to her suite where a nursery had already been prepared. They helped her into bed, and she and the baby snuggled together under the blankets while she fed him Draconian formula from a bottle.

  “It's just us for now, Shiloh,” she whispered. “But we're going to meet Daddy very soon.”

  4

  Salvatt pulled his laser sword from the body of his fallen foe. He stood in the battle ring and thrust his sword skyward. The battle for dominance over the fire kingdom had only intensified since he’d found his mate a year ago.

  He had proven to the realm and to the crowd cheering around him that he was still their prince. Salvatt holstered his sword and turned away from the crowd, walking through the lower doors.

  “Congratulations, Sir,” said Admiral Ikoro.

  “I have retained power over the realm once more.”

  Salvatt silently walked down the corridor door until he came out into the light of the outer courtyard of the fortress. There were droids and Draconians moving about the work of the castle.

  The obsidian fortress was a monument to the strength of his forefathers. It exemplified what it meant to be a dragon of fire. Fire came from the bowels of Galaton. It was the lifeblood of all things. Like the sun. The volcano around which the fire lands sat had created the vast obsidian fields that Salvatt’s ancestors had used to erect the fortress. Ten million years later, the city and the fortress were a mixture of the ancient and modern.

  He took the elevator up to his vast private chamber, striding past the luxurious furnishings toward the balcony that overlooked his kingdom. He gripped the obsidian railing and gazed out at the fire lands. The volcano rose in the distance; its smoke an ever-present reminder of its power.

  Salvatt has been prince of the south for a hundred years now. He had the responsibility his father had once had, and his father before him. When he’d sent for his bride, producing an heir had been his primary concern. But when he had learned his mate’s name and had seen her picture for the first time, his mating impulse had quickly kicked in.

  He had seen images of human women before. There was a vast entertainment industry around showing images of human women to Draconians males. But none of them had been his fated mate; none had affected him quite like her.

  As he looked out at his lands, his mate’s bright green eyes called out to him over the distance, and his inner dragon roared in acknowledgment. He’d been battling his mating impulse like a dying man battling a disease for months. His only medication was avoiding her. Never thinking of her. She was a universe away, and he had never smelled her scent, but knowing that she existed set off a chain reaction in his body and soul that could not be reversed.

  As much as he wanted to spend every waking minute studying the features of her face and the roundness of her curves, he couldn't even think about her. The mere memory of her name was like a drop of poison that would unleash the torrent of need and eventually destroy him.

  Since he had spoken to her on the day of the birth of their son, his mating impulse had increased exponentially. The battle he had fought and won today felt as if it might be his last.

  For a split-second before he slid his laser sword into his enemy’s gut, he’d doubted. Salvatt Door, Fire Prince of the south could not have that. He would not doubt his own strength.

  He looked up into the sky, seeing Celeste’s shuttle break through the atmosphere. It sliced across the sulfur yellow clouds from the volcano and jetted into the bright blue sky over the tropical forest.

  As it grew closer, Salvatt’s heart pounded in his chest. After all this time, he could finally claim her. He could finally speak her name.

  The shuttle settled down on the landing pad below his tower. He strode through his chambers and down toward the landing pad to meet her.

  “Sir, you have blood on your face,” one of his chamberlains told him, trying to wipe it away with a silken cloth as he strode through the front hall of his fortress.

  He wiped his face and threw the silk on the ground, marching down the hallway to the landing pad. Admiral Ikoro met him at the grand entrance to the fortress and nodded. Salvatt nodded back as he walked out onto the landing pad.

  The crew and medic had already exited the shuttle and stood beside the exit ramp. Salvatt stopped in his tracks when he saw her emerge from the shuttle. She wore a formal Draconian gown in flowing purple silk. She held Shiloh in a luminous blanket that flowed down over her own flowing skirts. Her auburn hair sparkled like flames in the light of the southern sun.

  She smiled at him, hesitantly. Salvatt remembered himself and strode forward, his dragon roaring and thrashing its mighty tail inside him.

  Salvatt stopped at the bottom of the ramp with Celeste still above him.

  She was so small, so delicate. Everything in him called out to touch her. But he waited.

  “Greetings, Celeste Dawes, of Earth. My beloved mate and the mother of my heir. Welcome to Galaton. Welcome home to the Obsidian Fortress.”

  “Thank you, Prince Salvatt,” she said, nodding her head like a supplicant.

  The sight of it made his dragon breathe fire. He needed to touch her, but the formalities lay like a gulf between the
m.

  “Come with me, lady,” he said showing her the way. “I will take you to some refreshment.”

  “Thank you,” Celeste said, carrying the baby down the ramp.

  The nanny came to take the baby from her arms, and put him into a hover carriage. All his specially chosen nannies had been extensively trained in the art of caring for Draconian young over the last year.

  “Allow the nanny to take the child,” Salvatt said to Celeste who hesitated before handing him over.

  As they continued across the landing pad, Salvatt saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

  “Behind you, Prince,” Admiral Ikoro shouted from across the landing pad.

  All of Salvatt’s instincts came to the forefront, and he pulled his laser sword from its hilt, bringing the blade up before him. A red dragon came plummeting through the air towards them, breathing fire.

  Salvatt ran toward the dragon and leapt into the air, using all his Draconian strength to propel himself above the platform. He sliced through the air as the dragon approached, cutting the traitor’s head right off his body. The head fell to the ground and rolled towards Celeste's feet.

  The dragon’s body fell beyond the platform and down to the ground far below the fortress. Celeste ran to her baby and took him from the hover carriage. She held the child in her arms, her lips parted in shock, and her eyes dark with fear.

  Salvatt cursed under his breath and retracted his laser sword. He slid it into his belt and walked towards her, hoping to pick up where they had left off in their polite greeting.

  “What was that?” she asked, her voice unsteady.

  “That was simply one of my rivals. I have taught him a lesson.”

  A group of chamberlains and soldiers circled around Celeste and Salvatt as they walked the rest of the way into the fortress. Celeste looked around, her pretty mouth hanging open. He noticed her fingertips touch her lower lip and wanted to nibble upon them both.

  These thoughts drove the inner dragon mad with hunger and it was nearly impossible to continue the civilized game. He needed to begin the mating ritual.

  Over the millions of years of the Draconians’ existence, the ebb and flow of available females was a constant reminder of their genetic abnormality. But when they were forced to find new females among the races from the stars, they had to play along with the customs and needs of the alien culture.

  Once inside, they turned into a sitting room that was comfortably furnished for greeting dignitaries. Celeste was quickly seated in a soft chair. Salvatt sat across from her, gazing upon her form as the flowing fabrics hugged every voluptuous curve.

  His dragon reared up inside him, pushing out of his skin and extending his claws. He gripped his hands, hiding the shift from his bride.

  One of the chamberlains handed her a cup of sweet root tea and she began to sip.

  “This tea is delicious,” Celeste said, looking up at him with her bright green eyes.

  “It is from a sweet root that grows in our southern jungles. It is considered a delicacy by many.”

  “What happened on the landing pad scared me to death. Does that happen a lot?” she asked, putting her hand to her chest.

  His dragon scratched his claws against the backs of Salvatt’s eyes. The scent of his bride was overwhelming his senses. The need to mate surged up inside him.

  “The fight for the fire lands is fierce. You and the child will help remedy that. Soon the fighting will die down.” He looked at his son in the carriage. The child clutched at a rattle, which he shook vigorously. The sight of it spiked emotions that he didn’t know he had. “I will protect you both with my life.”

  “Let’s hope that won’t be necessary,” she said nervously.

  The mating impulse was an evolutionary adaptation that ensured his race would procreate. It was at the deepest, most instinctive level of his dragon’s consciousness. The mate had to be claimed and imbued with his strength. She had to belong to him so that they could produce many, many children. Having his son already here didn’t stop the dragon from demanding his bride.

  She leaned forward and picked up a cookie from the tray on the table in front of her. When she tilted her body forward, he was given a view of the delicate pillows of her breasts.

  How he longed to cup them in his hands. And soon he would. These niceties and formalities could only last so long. Salvatt had already waited a year. Soon his instinct would catch up with him. He could feel it increasing with every passing moment since his mate arrived.

  “We must begin the mating ritual,” Salvatt said, staring into her eyes.

  She flushed and looked away.

  “I understand,” she whispered.

  He could smell her fear. Mating would not work without her willingness. Her tiny body still needed much preparation in order to take him in mating. The synthetic seed could not do what the real thing could do to her body. The scientists had already told him this. She would be ripped apart if he tried to mate her before she was prepared for it.

  For as long as there was recorded Draconian history, the race had known the trick for mating with females that were much smaller than them. The semen of a draconian male could allow the female’s body to adapt to his. She would grow more pliant by taking in his DNA through her skin. It also helped prepare any female fated mate of another species create a child. All of this knowledge was part of their collective scientific history.

  The lotion she had been rubbing on her body had only prepared her to give birth to his son. It had not prepared her to accept the immense size difference between their genitalia. His kind had learned over the many past centuries that small females had to be prepared and systematically opened.

  “I am prepared to do what needs to be done,” she said solemnly.

  He couldn't have her fear him. For her to become open enough for her body to accept him, it would require her complete surrender.

  “Bring me my son,” Salvatt said to the nanny standing to attention beside the door.

  The nanny carted the baby’s hover carriage into the sitting room and extracted the child from within. The tiny little thing was set in Salvatt's arms, wiggling and soft like a small helpless animal. He held the child in his arms and gazed down into the baby’s dark, trusting eyes. Its little fist grabbed and yanked at his beard.

  “My son is strong,” Salvatt said, jet eyes glittering fondly.

  He held the child out in front of him, taking in the little creature’s face and form. The baby giggled and reached out to his mother. Salvatt stood from his chair and carried his son across the room where Celeste sat nervously drinking her tea. Salvatt sat beside her and handed her the baby. Shiloh was visibly happy to be in his mother’s arms again.

  Celeste coed at the baby and in return the baby cooed back at his mother. Salvatt was dumbfounded by the display. He had never seen anything so touching or so beautiful in all of his long life as the Prince of the South.

  “My son is bonded to you,” Salvatt said.

  Celeste looked up at him and met his gaze, a slight smile tilted at the side of her mouth.

  “I love him more than all the systems in all the galaxy in the universe. He’s my heart.”

  She kissed the baby's head and rocked him in her arms. Salvatt marveled at the beauty of their combined love. He couldn’t rip his eyes from the image of them bonding with each other. His heart was full of a warm glow that ached inside him. It made him want to get closer to the woman and the child.

  “The two of you bring joy to my heart,” Salvatt said.

  Celeste looked up at him with her shy eyes and nodded.

  He didn't understand why she was still so put off by him. During her long journey across the galaxy, she was supposed to be bonding with him in her own heart. All of the materials for her to do so had been provided from the beginning of the trip. She should have a greater affection for him at this point.

  “If I may, I would like to go rest in my chambers,” Celeste said. “The child and I are tired
.”

  Salvatt rose from his seat, feeling rejected in a way that a Prince of Galaton should never feel.

  “Of course,” he said “The chamberlains will take you. In the morning, we will take our meal together and discuss preparations for the mating ritual. As you know, we cannot wait any longer.”

  She shot a glance at him that looked horribly to be a mixture of terror and loathing. But she quickly looked away and back at the child. He had never anticipated his bride would fear him. He’d been told that over the last year she would have grown attached to him. But clearly that was not the case.

  So much time had been wasted, and he was at the end of his ability to cope with his impulse. He had to claim her.

  Backing away, he gave her a slight bow with his hand to his heart.

  “Until tomorrow,” he said. “I take my leave.”

  She only glanced at him as he walked out the door. Salvatt left his mate and child in the sitting room and strode down the hall to the elevator at the end. He took it right down to the sparking ring.

  He had to blow off some steam. To find his mate so repelled by him was a deep blow to his sense of himself as a prince and a ruler. He stepped into the sparking ring through the underground tunnel. There were a few nobles left in the fighting rings and there wasn't a single dead body on the floor.

  Salvatt put his hands to his hips and looked around the arena for a fight. There didn’t seem to be one. A strong hand clapped him on the back.

  “Your mate is a real beauty,” Admiral Ikoro said.

  “That she is.”

  “And why is the prince of the fire lands down in the fighting pits when he should be mating with his princess?” the admiral asked, a challenge in his voice.

  “The princess and the child are fatigued. They must take their rest. The woman must prepare herself for the mating ritual. It is known to require a great deal of strength from the human female.”

  “Indeed. You are the first on Galaton on to be mated, and you are an example to us all,” Admiral Ikoro said.

  “I must prepare myself as well,” Salvatt said. “My bride and I will be utterly exhausted for the next several days during our mating ritual. I bid you farewell.”