Page 46 of Naga General's Mate

“The Silver Conference Room.” Mila’s brow furrowed. “That’s where she holds meetings with her most important associates I’ve overheard in the past.”

“How long do these meetings usually last?”

“Hours sometimes. Especially if she’s negotiating trade deals.” Mila thought about Kurg’s similar business meetings at his estate.

Brivul led Mila slowly through the winding corridors. Footsteps echoed ahead—multiple guards approaching fast.

“In here.” He yanked open a storage closet door and pulled Mila inside.

The space was tiny, barely large enough for his serpentine form. Mila pressed close against his chest, her breath warm on his scales. The scent of her flooded his senses. His arms tightened instinctively around her waist.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t move.” The words came out rougher than intended.

Her fingers splayed across his chest, steadying herself as boots thundered past their hiding spot. The touch sent lightning through his blood. His mate, so close, so perfect. Every instinct screamed to claim her, mark her right here.

“They’re gone.” Mila’s voice wavered.

Focus. The mission came first. He couldn’t let his mating drive cloud his judgment, no matter how right she felt in his arms.

“Let me check.” He cracked the door, scanning the hall. “Clear.”

They slipped out, and Brivul immediately missed her warmth. But the loss helped clear his head. They had a job to do.

“The conference room should be around the next corner,” Mila whispered.

Brivul nodded, forcing his thoughts away from the closet and how perfectly she’d fit in his arms.

“Stay behind me.” He slithered forward, every sense alert for danger. The sooner they delivered the evidence, the sooner he could tell her about the future they could have together.

If she’d have him.

The ornate double doors of the Silver Conference Room loomed ahead, voices murmuring behind the thick wood.

Before long, Brivul watched the last of Talis’s associates file out of the conference room, their silk robes rustling against the marble floor. He cataloged each exit along with the weight of the knife against his scales. Only Talis remained inside at the long obsidian table.

“We could rush her now.” Mila suggested. “While she’s alone.”

The touch sent electricity through his blood, but he forced himself to focus. A direct confrontation could end badly—for Mila especially.

“Or we track her to her office.” He kept his voice low, tasting the air for approaching threats. “More private. Less chance of guards interrupting.”

“But more time for something to go wrong.”

She had a point. His military training screamed at him to control the situation, choose the battlefield. But this wasn’t war. This was infiltration. One poor choice, and Mila would pay the price.

Through the door, he watched Talis gather her papers that were scattered across the table. The kingpin moved with calculatedgrace, her skin gleaming in the afternoon light. No weapons were visible, but that meant nothing in these circles.

“If we wait, we risk losing her.” Mila shifted closer, her warmth distracting. “She might have another meeting.”

“If we rush in, we risk everything.” His tail coiled tighter, combat-ready. “One shout brings every guard running.”

A servant entered the conference room, head bowed. “Lady Talis, your afternoon appointments await.”

“Tell them I’ll be there shortly.”

Brivul’s muscles tensed. Time was running out. He could grab Mila and flee, find another way to save her sister. But the fierce determination in her eyes told him she wouldn’t run. His mate was no coward.

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