Wyvern Protection Unit - Chapter 55: Chapter 55

“Doctor, we need you in here!”
Someone from the primitive medical team opened a door to the hallway, where they were still gathered. He bellowed the command at the tiny human in the white coat.
The action drew Daeja’s attention away from Jennifer, the Fr-ench-fr-y extortionist and deceiver. That was when she heard it, beneath the angry rumblings and frightened whispers of the crowd of adults.
“She’s a Wyvern, man!” Larimar hissed.
“More like a Girl-vern,” Conny mumbled.
“Shut the fuck up, guys,” Heliodore scolded them.
She would have smiled at her mate, but the almost indecipherable, oh-so-tiny sound reached her sensitive ears, and the world stood still for Daeja.
“Silence, please. I must have silence,” Daeja commanded as tears threatened to run down her face.
She’d never again hoped to hear that sound. So precious and full of promise. Daeja gasped, then scowled as the miraculous whisper was overpowered by the pained cry of the birthing mother.
The warble had been so small, so minuscule, as to not be heard by any of the Drakein males present.
No, they called themselves Wyvern on this planet.
She really had to remember that.
“Why have you not sung to your youngling?” she demanded of the male, the one called Jasper, with darker yellow eyes than he who would be her mate.
Upon hearing his mate’s pained cry, Jasper snarled and rushed forward. But the large male was being restrained by two of his own at the nurse’s harsh words. He stilled as Daeja addressed him.
“What? What do you mean? Who the fuck are you, Dragon lady?” he asked.
Demanded was probably a better word for his tone, but she merely raised an eyebrow. His stance promised violence if he did not like her answer, and her esteem for him grew at that moment.
Yes, he was a worthy male. A Flamebound male, indeed.
“Not Dragon. Drakein,” she said, tucking away her half-shifted form.
Wyverns as a species embraced their violent natures. Displays and contests were often part of the life of mature males and females, though as they’d evolved, those games had taken on much of the same as sports did in the human world.
They were not a backwards race, after all.
“I am Daeja, and I can help your mate. Please, let me try.”
“No,” Jennifer warned. “I can’t verify that!”
“You need to let me help her,” she hissed at the female deceiver. “Or she will not survive, nor will the young. They cry for their makein. Only the song will soothe them. I am a medical engineer, I know this.”
“How did you know she was pregnant?”
“From their calls, pakein.”
Daeja smiled at the soon-to-be-father, and suddenly four dominant males formed a wall shoulder to shoulder in front of her.
“It matters not if you stand there. Close your eyes and listen with your beasts. Can you not hear? I can. I can hear your young ones. You will soon be a pakein. They need help, though.”
“What kind of help?” the pakein replied, his eyes rimmed with tears.
“They need to quiet down, not spend their energy with restlessness. They need to grow within the womb. Their makein needs this, too. They take too much from her now in their haste.”
“Pakein? Makein?” her mate questioned.
“The words mean father and mother, revolko,” she whispered, wanting to touch him, but she stopped herself just in time.
She was uncertain if the first touch would have the same effect as it would have on her planet, but why test fate?
Daeja was hardly ready to strip and jump on her mate, regardless of her erratic heartbeat when he was near. Not when there were younglings, who needed her.
“Jennifer, the DPCA hasn’t been able to do a thing for Caro. Whoever this female is, my beast detects no lies or threat from her.”
“But Jasper⁠—”
The male shook his head and turned to Daeja.
“Please, help my mate, Daeja,” the future pakein implored.
“Yes, please,” echoed Heliodore.
He was one of the almost seven-foot tall wall of strength before her, and her insides melted a little more.
Good protective male. He will make a fine pakein.
“I will try if you would step aside. I swear to do no harm. It is my oath.”
“Fine, but she doesn’t go alone,” Larimar said quietly.
“Actually, it will require all four of you,” she told him, ignoring the exasperated sigh of Jennifer.
Daeja did not believe the female was evil, but she was not honest, either. Shifter species rarely lied well, and she wondered what had happened to Jennifer to make her dishonesty so indistinguishable.
She shook her head. A new wave of warbles reached her and her inner Drakein perked up. She had no more time to spare on the question of Jennifer’s penchant for mendacity.
She moved, followed by the males, Jennifer, Arthur, and another female whose name she did not yet catch. Daeja located the expectant makein quickly.
The medical examination room was pristine and clean. But it lacked the advanced technological tools she would have found aboard the ship that had carried her to Earth from Drakeinan.
Even without them, she knew what to do. After all, back on her old planet, birthing centers relied on the old ways, and she had been taught those at the hands of her own apakein.
“Jasper,” the female groaned, then turned to Daeja.
“Who are you? I love your hair. Oooh!”
The birthing mother grimaced and hugged her protruding belly.
“Easy, makein,” Daeja said. She leaned closer and sniffed, then paused.
“What is it?” Heliodore asked from close behind her.
She signaled him to quiet down, ignoring him was not easy. But difficult as it was, Daeja had no words for the discovery she’d just made.
She turned to the male who was now cradling his mate, kissing her forehead, and looking at her with eyes that burned with love.
“I am Daeja,” she told the makein.
Daeja turned to where Jennifer was standing, wrenching her hands. She was obviously upset, and it dawned on her she cared for these males and these females here. Maybe there was more to the Shifter than Daeja thought.
She pushed all that aside for now. Daeja had work to do.
“You have allowed them to mate female humans?”
“I don’t allow them to do anything,” Jennifer said between tight lips. “They are adults. Excuse me,” she growled and stormed out of the room.
“This is unprecedented then,” Daeja mumbled, then looked at the expectant parents. “I would try to help, if I may?”
“Please, yes, please,” both said.
“I’m exhausted and my little soccer player here is giving me fits.”
The soon-to-be mother smiled even through her obvious exhaustion. Daeja did not understand the reference, but she smiled back.
She saw the female was good and kind, loving in a way that reminded her of her own makein. Emotions welled within Daeja, something a Drakein knew better than to express.
Despite that, she felt herself tearing up as hope filled her. Nodding at the human female, Daeja raised her hands slowly, allowing her time to get used to the idea.
She did not need to touch the pregnant female’s stomach. Daeja simply held her hands just above her skin. Contact was not needed.
Drakein could communicate telepathically. Especially when they belonged to the same Clan or were related. Nerves assailed her. It had been some time since she had performed this procedure.
No birthings had occurred during their space travel. But even before that, they were few. Drakeinan during wartimes made pregnancy difficult with so many males dead and unable to sing to their younglings.
Shivers ran down her spine, but she felt the nearly overwhelming presence of her soon-to-be mate behind her. His quiet strength and stamina as he stood there gave her the confidence she needed to help this young mother and the tiny lives inside of her.
Inhale. Exhale. Focus.
Just as she had been taught, Daeja focused on the sounds inside the room, and one by one, she pushed them to the far recesses of her perception.
The gentle swoosh of air moving in and out of the lungs of those present. Their heartbeats. The buzz of the ventilation system. The beeping of the machines. Even the constant hum of electricity—all of them faded away.
Only then did she find the small whispers once again. The tiny warbling cries of the unborn younglings inside of the human woman.
Joy welled inside her. The younglings were excited, anxious, and in their zeal, they reached out for their makein, or mother, as the humans said.
The males in the room shuddered and gasped. They seemed attuned to what Daeja was doing, instinctively so. That was good.
Very good, she thought.
“Listen for them,” Daeja instructed as quietly as possible. “Hear them. They are your young. They need your song, pakein,” she instructed.
“My song?” the soon-to-be-father whispered.
Daeja nodded, opening her lips as she sang a single note. Tiny warbling cries echoed, though she knew it would do no good. They needed his song.
So, she taught him how. Each note was a soft whistle designed to soothe the young Drakeins. A father’s song was important, or so her apakein had taught her.
She felt the male move close to his mate’s stomach. He looked at her with questions in his eyes, and she nodded, encouraging him. Jasper cradled the swell of his mate’s belly gently and opened his lips to echo Daeja’s song.
His mate shifted nervously, but the moment his notes reached the babes, they calmed.
“That’s it, pakein, they hear you.”
Soothed by his whistling tune, his mate exhaled in relief. Tears rolled down her face as she cradled Jasper’s head atop her belly. Daeja was so happy for them, her smile grew even wider when the young makein joined her mate with a gentle hum.
Once they settled into a melody, Daeja examined the female. Her medical training kicked in.
“What are you doing?” Heliodore whispered.
“I am checking her health. I did not know human females are so similar, aside from not having a Drakein,” she whispered.
True, the female lacked Shifter strength, but she was a fighter. Heliodore nodded, and she realized he was keeping the others away from her while she did her work.
Good male. Worthy mate.
She took the paper chart at the foot of the bed and saw a list of medical jargon not too foreign to her, just very, very primitive.
Overall, the makein’s prognosis was good. A few alterations to diet and, of course, the song, and she should be perfect.
“All done,” she whispered several moments later.
“Thank you. I feel wonderful. My name is Carolina, but you can call me Caro, all my friends do.”
She had already made introductions when Daeja had begun gently touching and measuring her shape.
“Friend?”
“Yes. I would like very much to be your friend,” the pretty female said.
“I accept, Caro. You are my very first friend,” Daeja replied, and her chest swelled once more.
She turned to see Heliodore standing close, and he smiled, looking at her with pride shining in his gaze. For some reason, that made her even happier.
Strange, that word, friend. She knew what it meant, but the Drakein had no real inkling of it in practice. Everyone on Drakeinan had a job. Females worked towards the same goals. But friendship was foreign.
“No more pain, Caro? Really?” Jasper asked, and the male actually teared when she shook her head.
He kissed her brow and whispering secret words of love that made Daeja blush fiercely to witness. The brothers all hooted and clapped, grinning sheepishly when they were shushed by the one they called father.
The human male walked over to Carolina and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, gripping Jasper’s shoulder in a loving gesture. Then he turned to Daeja.
“Thank you, Daeja, for helping our Caro. I do not know a lot about your case yet, but the Wessex family owes you, young lady.”
“Oh, I only did what I vowed back on Drakeinan, to care for our kind,” she muttered and bowed to him.
He might not be a Drakein, but he clearly had love for the Flamebound princes he had raised as his own.
“How did you do that?” her mate asked, a scowl marring his handsome face.
Daeja merely shrugged. She did not want to reveal all. Not yet. Not until she spoke to Jennifer.
“Daeja, how will I know when my contractions are real?” Caro asked, sitting up a little straighter in her bed.
“Oh, you have some time left,” Daeja replied, her attention re-focused on the expectant couple.
“But it’s been ten months,” Caro said.
“Ten months? Ah, yes, human gestation is forty weeks, correct? One moment,” she mumbled and did the calculations in her head quickly.
Biting her lip, she grabbed a piece of paper and a wooden stick filled with graphite, then she redid the numbers to be sure.
Freking flarshlaks.
A human month was akin to a moon 5 lunar phase on Drakeinan. That meant the young human was in for almost double her usual gestation.
“You will have five more months until the young are primed for hatching,” she explained.
“Hatching?”
“Um, yes. We use the term hatching, well, because⁠—”
Daeja frowned. She thought a moment before starting her explanation.
“You see, a Drakein, or Wyvern young, as I gathered you call our species, develops inside a female’s womb like any species, but with one significant difference. The Drakein shell. You see, the womb itself grows hard, like a shell, to protect the fertilized eggs.”
“There is a shell inside of me?”
“Not really. I mean, yes, but think of it as your younglings’ first sleeping pod. The shell starts off small, growing as your younglings do to accommodate their size while protecting their very fragile bodies. A Drakeinan young is half the size of human young at birth,” Daeja explained.
“But that is so small,” Caro replied.
“It is, but our growth rate speeds up after that,” Daeja said and looked to Arthur for confirmation.
“After the boys were born, they grew at twice the rate of any human child. But their aging stopped around twenty-five,” he replied.
“Yes, because we have very long lifespans. I believe the oldest Drakein was six hundred and eighty-two human years old,” she said with a smile.
“Okay, we can worry about that later. What about the shell? How am I ever going to wear a bathing suit again?”
“Oh! No! The shell will thin as the young get stronger until eventually it breaks away and dissolves back into your body. We call this hatching, followed by birthing, which I am afraid will require much energy.”
“How do you know about Wyverns?”
The question coming from her mate seemed to slow time, but as she faced him, she knew there was only one thing she could say. The truth.
“I know about Wyverns, as you call us, because I really am like you, Heliodore.”
“How can that be?”
“Because, lost prince of the Flamebound Clan, I am Drakein, and so are you.”
“Prince?”
“Yes, the four of you are the stuff of legends. Our princes. And it is up to you to save us from a fate worse than death.”
“This can’t be real,” he mumbled.
“It is real, revolko. You are a prince.”
“What else am I?” Heliodore asked, eyes blazing with his beast.
“Why, revolko, I thought you knew,” she said with a wicked smile.
“Knew what?” he asked, cocking his head to the side, and looking entirely too tempting.
“You are mine.”