Page 38 of The Dragon’s Accidental Manny

“He wants to fly.” Jack told us to stand back.

We stood with our arms around one another as my mate’s beast lifted off into the cloudless sky. I squinted up as his wings flapped and pulled him skyward. He circled the house and landed on the flattened grass where he’d been a minute before.

The scales fell away and the tail and spikes vanished. I tossed Price his pants, and the children rushed toward him. I lumbered rather than walked and fell into his arms.

“I don’t want to know how you three knew what we were doing, but I’m glad you’re here.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “The baby loves your dragon already.”

The kids ran ahead to the house, and for a few steps, it was us, in the dark with me waddling. Price was quiet until we were almost at the back door. He brushed his arm on mine.

“You didn’t run.” He stared at the grass below his bare feet. “At the studio, you drove away, and it was the perfect image of all my fears. When a human sees me, all of me, they leave.”

He faced me, and we stopped walking. “But tonight, you walked toward me.”

I nodded. If I’d spoken, I would have sobbed, but I was holding that in.

“You have no idea how that affected me.”

“I think I do.” I put his hand on my bump where our child was doing cartwheels. “I wasn’t going to run like the first time. Looking back, I understand that was the last time I ran away, and now I run toward.”

Price placed a kiss on my brow. “How do you feel?”

“I’m conflicted because I’m in love with two people. One very hot alpha and his equally hot beast.”

He cocked a brow. “Careful. I might get jealous.”

EIGHTEEN

PRICE

“I’m not going.”

That was me telling Cam that I was sticking close to home now that his due date was less than two weeks from now.

I’d said it twice as my mate and I stood in the kitchen, and I placed my hands on his bump.

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s ten days, love. First babies are always late. You’re not turning down a gallery because the baby might come early.” He’d pushed me toward the door. “Go and hang your glass. I’ll be here when you get back, still with a bump and wishing I could see my feet.”

I made sure both our phones were charged before I headed up the coast to a gallery with the three-story lobby and a client who was expecting my piece—a flare of blown glass made to look like fire caught mid-leap—hung how he wanted it. So I stood on the scaffold with my human crew and the phone in my back pocket, wishing I was at home.

My dragon couldn’t settle, saying we shouldn’t have come and Something doesn’t feel right.

If something was wrong, Cam would have phoned. Let me get this installation done and we can head home.

The phone rang at 2:15. I knew the exact time because I’d checked it for the tenth time five minutes earlier.

“Cam? What is it?”

“Okay, don’t panic.”

Had anyone ever not panicked when someone said that? I doubted it, and I was panicking times two thanks to my dragon.

“I’m fine. Everything is fine and as it should be.”

He was rambling, and I was off the scaffolding and heading toward the entrance before he spoke again.

“I’ve been having contractions since noon.” He took a breath. “They were teeny-tiny ones, but now I can’t really ignore them.”