Page 42 of Naga General's Mate

“That’s not going to change.” His voice dropped lower, more intimate. The confined space amplified the warmth of her body against his.

“Why?” The question hung between them, loaded with meaning.

Brivul tightened his grip on her hand. Soon, he would tell her everything—about mates, about the instant connection he’d feltin that market. But not yet. Not while they were still fugitives on a cargo train.

“Because you’re worth protecting,” he said instead, his violet eyes intense. “Because you’re brave and clever and stronger than anyone gives you credit for.”

A blush colored her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. “You make me feel safe,” she admitted. “I haven’t felt safe in… ever.”

His chest swelled with pride and possession. “Good.” He drew her even closer, his massive frame curling protectively around her smaller one. “That’s exactly how it should be.”

The intimacy of the moment wrapped around them like a cocoon. Brivul knew, with bone-deep certainty, that this woman was meant to be his. Every protective urge, every instinct to shelter and defend her—it all made perfect sense. Soon, when they were truly safe, he would explain everything. For now, he was content to guard her sleep and plan their future.

Chapter 19

Mila

Mila’s heart pounded asthe train screeched to a halt. The cargo hold’s metal walls vibrated, sending a shiver through her bones. She pressed against the crates, watching Brivul peer through a gap in the door.

“Clear?” The whisper escaped her lips.

“Wait for the guards to pass.”

Crystal chimes echoed from somewhere beyond their hiding spot. The outer district—she’d only glimpsed it before when running errands for Kurg. Marble columns and gold-trimmed archways, nothing like the grimy underworld they’d left behind.

Brivul slid the door open with ease. “Now.”

They darted between shadows cast by ornate buildings. The sweet scent of night-blooming flowers filled the air, so different from the acrid smoke of the lower districts. Mila’s replacement clothes marked her as an outsider here, where even the servants wore silk.

“Behind the fountain.” Brivul guided her toward an elaborate water feature.

Water tinkled over carved stone nymphs. Mila crouched behind the fountain and scanned the nearby street. A group of Jorvlen nobles glided past, their robes adorned with precious stones.

“We need better clothes.” Her fingers found the rough hem of her shirt. “We stand out too much.”

“Agreed. We also need shelter for the night.”

The cobblestone streets wound between towering mansions. Gardens dripped with exotic flowers, their perfume almost overwhelming after years of musty slave quarters.

A patrol of guards rounded the corner. Mila pressed against Brivul, holding her breath as boots clicked against stone. Her skin tingled where it met his scales.

“This way.” He pulled her into an alcove lined with potted plants.

The guards passed, their weapons glinting in the lamplight. Mila’s heart refused to slow.

“The boarding houses should be near the market district,” she whispered, forcing herself to focus. “Merchants stay there when they come to trade.”

“Lead on.” His violet eyes crinkled at the corners. “You know more about this place than I do.”

They wove through the streets, keeping to the shadows. Everything here screamed wealth—even the street lamps were worked in precious metals. It made her skin crawl, knowing how many slaves had suffered to build this luxury.

A gleaming storefront caught Mila’s eye. Through polished windows, silk robes in jewel tones beckoned. Perfect.

“In here.” She tugged Brivul toward the entrance. “Quick, before someone sees us.”

The shop’s interior smelled of sandalwood and fresh fabric. Racks of finery stretched into shadowed corners. A bored-looking clerk barely glanced up from her datapad.

“May I help you?”

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