The Dragon Rebellion (M-Preg)

Chapter Thirteen: Disturbed

The redrya was refusing to eat again and it was grating on Kincaid's last nerve.

Something had happened at the Laying. Perhaps the experience...Kincaid had gotten strong waves of horror and disgust from the bond through out the ceremony, but it felt like something more. He had noticed Bodric whispering in his ear, but over the raucous applause and cheers, Kincaid couldn't make it out. When he approached his brother about it, Bodric only smirked and reminded Kincaid that he still hadn't officially presented his pair.

How could he when the human wouldn't even leave the bed?

Reid remained huddled under the blankets, curled into a ball. A solid wall of numbness was the only thing Kincaid could feel through the bond. It didn't necessarily impede on his work, the feeling much easier to ignore than the previous restlessness, but still, he did not like it.

It felt like hiding. If the redrya could hide from him, that meant he had lost control. He could not afford to lose control. Not now. Not with the King and Council breathing down his neck.

With a frustrated grunt, Kincaid approached the side of the bed, dipping low into the cushions until he sat next to the now stiffening lump.

"You must eat," Kincaid commanded.

Nothing. No movement, just a hesitant freeze as if with enough time, Kincaid would go away. Kincaid did not appreciate the childish games.

Ripping the blanket from the redrya, exposing the weak and frail form, he glared down at him. Sickness radiated off of him in waves, causing Kincaid's morá to darken a putrid green.

Great...this was just what Kincaid needed, another headache to deal with.

"Are you ill, redrya?" Kincaid demanded, studying the lifeless brown eyes that simply stared forward at nothingness.

Fed up, Kincaid yanked the redrya up, ignoring the whimper of pain he emitted before dragging him over to the bathroom. He tossed him in the tub and turned on the water. The redrya huddled in the bath, clothes still on, shivering pathetically.

"Do you not know how to even clean, redyra? Must you be so weak in everything?" the male growled in annoyance.

Kincaid rolled up his sleeves, choosing to do the job himself rather than have more servants invade his den. He was already annoyed they had to come to feed the redrya constantly, their scents ruining the atmosphere he had created, but he simply did not have the time to do it himself.

Tugging the redrya's clothes off and tossing them in a soggy heap on the bathroom floor, Kincaid observed Reid, wondering if he had truly witnessed the fire in him or if had simply been a fleeting phenomena. Where was it? That brazen audacity? The creature before him was nothing like before...no this was a broken thing. One that Kincaid could not begin to fix, nor did he have the energy or time to spare to do it.

With a none too gentle hand, Kincaid lathered the human up before scrubbing him down. All the while Reid shivered and whimpered.

When he was clean enough to Kincaid's standards, the Naerian drained the tub and tossed a towel over the human. When the human made no move to dry himself, Kincaid let out a frustrated sigh.

He hadn't cared for another like this since his sire had fallen ill. Bodric was too busy ruling the remaining Naerians that hadn't fallen to sickness and the servants were all too afraid to catch it. That left Kincaid, once again stuck with the job that no one wanted, and not caring enough to say no. If he could do it, he would, he hadn't seen the point in rejecting.