They waited a few minutes as Gaspard returned, a slight smile on his face. “I don’t even have to break out the ultrasound to know there’s eggs in there. Merde.”
Viraj crossed his arms and swallowed, cheeks growing ruddy with flush. “It could be just a little weight.”
“No, if it was weight, it’d be evenly distributed, and we’d see more along your hips. That is abdominal distention. And from the position of your navel and that sweet scent you have, you’re gravid.” Gaspard turned on an ultrasound machine, or what Gatlin supposed was one. He’d seen them on television, after all.
The thing whirred and hummed to life, and Gaspard waved a hand dismissively before prodding at Viraj to lean back. Fingertips dug into flesh, below his navel, at his hip, and up into the slight swell. He spanned a hand from hip to hip, gauging the fullness. “Definitely in the gravid range.”
Gaspard squirted something blue, clear, and glistening onto Viraj’s belly and pulled the wand over, squinting at the grainy screen. “Aaaand…”
He quieted.
Viraj stared at the screen, the probe registering what might as well have been a sea of bubbles.
Some were darker than others. Some not.
Gaspard roved the device over his stomach a few times more. “Well. You’re gravid.”
“Pups?” Teige’s voice came out as a squeak.
“Potentially. Nothing is for certain until we have a hatching.” Gaspard pulled the probe away almost too fast and wiped Viraj’s stomach off with care. The still-messy probe clicked onto a holster as a few images printed off, and he took them over to his desk, biting the lid off of a fine-tipped permanent marker as he sat, ticking off something on the image. “Odds are in your favor.”
“H-how many?” Gatlin’s throat went dry as Gaspard held up a hand and resumed studying the sheet.
“I—don’t know.” Gaspard stared at the image and glanced up at them. “I’ll have to bring Frikka Nielsen in to aid me, as his techniques are less invasive.”
“You have the image right there, how can you not tell?” Viraj sat up as his phone dinged loudly, followed by a half dozen others.
“I lost count at seven and I can’t tell because they’re so crowded. There are at least three blanks, and I’m frankly dumbfounded.” Gaspard dropped the ultrasound. “I swear to the gods, a Loch could impregnate a fucking rock if given a chance.”
Gatlin felt a little pride at that, but flinched as a loud, meaty, thump drew their gazes. “Teige?”
Their mate lay prone on the floor, flesh pale as milk, almost ashen. Gaspard stepped over, tiptoeing over Teige as he gave Viraj his shirt. “I don’t treat Drakes.”
Viraj slipped on his shirt and flinched when his phone continued to ding.
Chapter Thirteen
Viraj
Seven pups? Viraj’s skin went cold as Teige fainted. But that could be worried about later. He glanced over at his mate before looking down at his phone, where a group chat had popped up. He glanced down at the screen and frowned.
Leo:Hey, why the fuck is Viraj in chat, now?
Rolf:I didn’t add him.
DrakesLAYER69:Congratulations. You are not in the closet.
Leo:Christ on a stick, Frikka, stop changing your username.
DrakesLAYER69:I like this one. It has the sixty-nine in it.
Bastien:We know!
???:I quite like changing my username.
Suyin:Baba, no! Omfg. Please do not.
Leo:It says something dirty, doesn’t it?
