Page 35 of Naga General's Mate

“Then I can get up.”

“Not yet.” She pressed her palm against his chest, and heat bloomed beneath her touch. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Since when are you a doctor?”

“Since you decided to play hero with those thugs.”

Brivul caught her wrist as she withdrew. Her pulse jumped beneath his thumb. “I’d do it again.”

“I know you would.” She didn’t pull away. “That’s what worries me.”

The morning light caught her face, illuminating the determined set of her jaw along with the spark of intelligence in her eyes.

“You should rest more.” Her voice softened. “Build up your strength.”

“I’ve been resting for four days.”

“And you’ll rest more if I have to sit on you to keep you down.”

His scales rippled at the thought. “That’s not much of a threat.”

A blush crept across her cheeks, but she held his gaze for a moment. She then turned and left him to rest longer.

Later that afternoon, Mila returned with a steaming bowl that filled the room with hints of ginger and herbs. “Here. Ellri’s special recipe.”

Brivul propped himself up against the headboard, his muscles protesting. The spoon trembled in his grip.

“Let me.” Mila sat beside him, her hip brushing his scales. She took the spoon, and the simple act of her feeding him sparked something primal in him.

“I can feed myself.”

“And risk spilling this all over the clean sheets? Not happening.”

The warm broth slid down his throat. His tail curled with pleasure at the taste—or perhaps at her proximity. The scent of jasmine wrapped around him like a blanket.

Each time she leaned forward, her hair brushed his chest. His scales tingled at the contact. He’d faced down pirates and criminals without flinching, but this small human reduced him to a mess of sensations.

“Tea next.” She set down the empty bowl. “And don’t give me that look. You need fluids.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her fingers grazed his as she passed him the cup. The warmth spread through him, and it wasn’t from the tea. How had he survived before her? Before her quiet strength and sharp wit?

“You’re staring.”

“Hard not to.”

Pink colored her cheeks again. “Drink your tea.”

His wound might still ache, but her presence soothed something deeper—a loneliness he hadn’t even recognized until she filled it.

Mila soon twisted her fingers together, a nervous gesture Brivul had come to recognize. The tea cooled in his hands as he watched her internal struggle play across her face.

“I need to tell you something.” Her voice dropped low. “About why Kurg really wanted me dead.”

His scales bristled at the mention of that name. “Tell me.”

“I found evidence. Kurg’s been embezzling from the Council of Seven.”

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