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The bag was stuffed with two shades of purple tissue paper which had been arranged quite artfully. Sorin removed the sheets and discovered a soft, floppy mound at the bottom of the bag wrapped in white tissue paper speckled with chunky glitter. It gave way easily, opening to reveal what appeared to be assorted scraps of fabric. Sorin lifted the topmost piece—a bold Hawaiian print—and discovered it had been sewn into the shape of a tube and decorated with tiny sleeves. The one beneath it in the pile had been sewn the same way, but was pink and made of terrycloth. It reminded Sorin of a bathrobe, if bathrobes were designed for a single, horrifically long finger.
“They’re clothes for your snake,” Harry revealed as Sorin pulled a tubular chef’s outfit—complete with its own chef’s hat—from the bag. “At our last club meeting, we banded together to make a whole wardrobe for her. We figured since Steve enjoys his clothing so much, your snake might enjoy dressing up as well.”
One outfit after another, from floral print homesteader skirt to studded jackets that would fit the look of a punk musician with an ax to grind, Sorin emptied the bag. How was this real? It felt like he was caught up in a fever dream.
The checkup.
Sebastian.
Clothes for his snake.
A smiling Harry.
He had been braced for a quiet life. For loneliness. Had made peace with the fact that he would never have what the other Drake mates had—that he would never be part of the family.
But now he couldn’t get rid of them.
They moved through his life like it was a revolving door, bringing laughter, love, acceptance… and confrontation, too. Harsh words. True feelings. Their hearts laid bare, for better or for worse.
What truer sign was there of family than this?
Sorin’s throat tightened. Tears pricked at the back of his eyes. He cuddled up to Bertram, tucking himself against his chest, and pulled out another handmade garment.
This one was not like the others.
It appeared to be some kind of drawstring bag.
Sorin pinched it between his fingers, rubbing it to get a feel for the fabric. It was made out of a luxurious aubergine cotton with a white sherpa lining, the stitching immaculate. Whoever had made it had put a lot of love into its construction.
But what use could a drawstring bag be to a snake?
“What is this?” he asked, holding it out to Harry for clarification.
“Oh! Perry made that. Isn’t he talented?” He took the bag from Sorin and shoved his fist inside, plumping it out to its full volume. Fully extended, it was about the size of a football. “It’s an egg cozy for your future clutch. He made six in total. They got a little squished during transit, but the material is so soft, they fluff right up. Oh, and do you see the drawstrings? After you put the egg inside, all you have to do is tighten them until the fabric is nice and snug, and then it’ll be like the egg has a little sweater on. And look!” He turned the cozy around to reveal words embroidered on the back, done in a gorgeous metallic purple thread. They read: Future Drake. “Can you believe he got all of them embroidered in just two days? He said he would have been done sooner if his embroidering skills weren’t so rusty. Apparently that’s something they used to teach Pedigree omegas. Who knew?” Harry handed the egg cozy back to Sorin. “He said if you have more than six eggs, he’ll make extra. Six just seemed like a solid number. Oh! But actually, now that your appointment is over, you must know how many eggs you’re expecting.” Practically rubbing his hands together in glee, Harry asked, “Will he need to make more?”
“Now, now,” chided an affectionate Everard. He took a starry-eyed Harry under his arm and pulled him gently against his chest. “I know you are excited, licorice stick, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Some unexpected circumstances arose that prevented me from sharing the happy news, so I have not told him yet.”
“Oh.” Harry blinked, but his enthusiasm did not waver. Beaming, he asked Sorin, “Do you want to know?”
Regardless of what Sorin felt, it was not a decision he could make on his own. He looked up at Bertram, reaching out to him through their bond, but did not have to search hard for the truth. Even if Bertram’s soul hadn’t spoken to him, the look on his face said it all. Eyes atwinkle with excitement, he slid a hand over Sorin’s thigh, causing snake clothes and glitter to tumble to the floor.
“Yes,” said Sorin a little breathlessly, lost in the depth of their unspoken connection. He slid his hand over Bertram’s, weaving their fingers together as his heart fluttered. “We’d like to know. How many eggs did you find?”
“Four.” Everard sounded quite prideful and looked awfully pleased with himself. “All of them viable, and all of them as healthy as can be. That said, I would not recommend you get into any more risky business with my brothers. Stress can do dastardly things to developing life, whether that life is protected by eggshell or not. If you must risk life and limb in pursuit of forgiveness, I suppose I cannot stop you, but I will strongly encourage you to wait until after the eggs have been laid.”
Harry screwed up his face in confusion. “I missed something, didn’t I?”
“Nothing you need worry yourself over, Pop-Tart.” Everard kissed the top of his head. “Just a little dragony chest beating. Nothing you haven’t seen before. Now, are you ready to get going? Perhaps we could take Chuck and Julius out for lunch. I’m sure Peregrine would appreciate a few hours of quiet—babysitting is no easy feat when it comes to those boys.”
Their conversation continued, Harry replying in his usual chipper way, but Sorin had tuned out of the conversation and missed what was being said. His head spun, and this time not from dread, but from excitement.
Four eggs.
Four new babies waiting to be born.
And this time, with his magic tamed and his love for Bertram no longer a secret, they would have their happy ending. Even now, living in Aurora with Drakes coming and going as they pleased, it felt too incredible to be real.
Overcome by the emotion of it all, Sorin set the gift bag aside and climbed onto Bertram’s lap. Glitter and snake clothing went everywhere, but Sorin paid no attention to it. He only had eyes for Bertram, his wonderful mate who had somehow managed to give him everything despite the catastrophe that had been their lives.
