Page 8 of The Accidental Dragon Baby

Uriel looked away just before Ace’s gaze passed over them.

Except Uriel was wearing a pale orange shirt, and Ivo stuck out like a sore thumb on his shoulders.

He had a moment to think that Ace had completely missed them.

Then Ace’s attention snapped back onto him.

“Ah, shit,” Uriel murmured. He stood and strode casually out of the bar.

A glance over his shoulder showed that Acewas following them out.

Ivo clutched Uriel’s shirt so tightly, his claws pierced several holes in it. What did Ace want with him?

They stepped onto the sidewalk outside the bar; Uriel lengthened his strides.

Except he was no match for Ace’s long legs.

“Uriel,” Ace said behind them.

“He wants to go home,” Uriel growled. “Don’t make me throw up a barrier.”

“He fell,” Ace said. “I wanted to make sure he’s all right.”

Uriel’s footsteps faltered. He glanced down at Ivo; Ivo nodded quickly. “He’s fine.”

Ace blew out a breath and stopped following them. “Okay.”

When Ivo peeked over Uriel’s shoulder, he found Ace standing alone, growing further and further away.

Ivo shivered under the intensity of his gaze. Why was Ace still watching him? Ivo’s mink fur was patchy in several places where the scars hadn’t healed right; he couldn’t be pleasant to look at.

But Ace never once looked away.

Then Uriel turned a corner, and Ivo’s pang of loss was small, but undeniable.

3

IT BROKE?!

Ace hadto duck back into the bar’s restroom to clean up.

In his rush to check on the mysterious omega, he’d stuffed his condom-wrapped cock into his pants and run out.

But now that he knew the man was okay, he slipped back into the cubicle that still smelled like sex, locking the door behind himself. He unzipped his pants and scooped out his cock and balls.

It wasn’t until he looked closely, that he realized—

There was no reservoir of cum at his tip.

Ace froze. He shoved his hand down his pant leg, certain that the condom had burst while he wasn’t looking.

But no. His pant leg was dry on the inside, with just a smear of wetness. Not soaked like it should’ve been.

He shoved his hand down the other pant leg, only to find the same. Doubt squirmed into his chest. He patted down his thighs just to be sure, but—nope. There was no flood of wetnessanywhere.

Fuck!When had the condom ripped? Because there wasnothingon the outside of his pants, either.

He looked at the floor of his cubicle, finding a few droplets of pearly white.

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