Page 55 of Naga General's Mate

Her fingers found the scar on his jaw, tracing it with gentle curiosity. The touch sent sparks through his entire body. He captured her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.

“My warrior,” she whispered.

Yes, he was her warrior. And she was his mate. Nothing would ever change that.

Brivul rose from the bed, his form towering and commanding, yet he moved with a grace that belied his size. He extended a hand to Mila, his voice a deep rumble. “Join me in the shower?”

Her hand slipped into his, and the rightness of it made his heart clench. Her touch was electric, sending jolts of awareness up his arm and down his spine. Together, they padded across the plush carpet to the bathroom.

Soon under the cascade of water, Brivul looked at Mila, her curves slick and glistening. He reached for the washcloth, lathering it with the hotel’s scented soap—a blend of citrus and vanilla. Her breath hitched as he approached, her eyes locking on to his with an intensity that matched his own.

He began at her shoulders, the cloth gliding over her skin in slow, deliberate strokes. His movements were tender yet firm, a testament to his strength and his restraint. Every inch of her was a territory he was privileged to explore, to care for, and to know.

His hands traveled lower, washing her arms, her chest, her stomach, each pass a silent vow of protection and devotion.

When her fingers took the cloth from him, it was her turn to explore, to claim ownership over his body as he had done with hers. Her touch was light, tentative at first, but growing bolder as she traced the contours of his muscles, the ridges of his scales.

Brivul could hardly contain the rumble of satisfaction that built within him. To be touched by one’s mate was to be known, to be accepted without reservation. He had never anticipated such intimacy yet now could not live without.

Their eyes met, and in that shared gaze, they communicated without words. This was not the fiery passion of the night before but something deeper, a quiet communion of souls.

Chapter 25

Mila

The silk dress whisperedagainst Mila’s skin as she walked beside Brivul down the sunlit street. Crystal-paned shopfronts sparkled, so different from the grimy markets she’d known all her life. A breeze carried the scent of fresh bread and grilled meat from nearby cafes.

“You’re staring at that bakery like you want to rob it,” Brivul said.

“I’ve never seen pastries that fancy.” Mila gestured at the delicate confections in the window. “Look at those little sugar flowers.”

“Let’s get some.”

“We should save the money Talis gave us.”

“For what? Being miserable?” Brivul guided her toward the shop door. “You deserve nice things.”

The words settled warm in her chest. No one had ever told her that before.

Inside, glass cases displayed rows of colorful treats. The shop owner, a portly Niri with green scales, greeted them with a respectful bow—the kind reserved for wealthy patrons. Mila had to stop herself from bowing back out of habit.

“The raspberry tarts are divine,” the owner said. “Fresh from the oven.”

“We’ll take four,” Brivul said.

“Two is plenty.”

“Four.” He winked at her. “Trust me.”

They found a quiet table in the corner of a nearby cafe. Mila sank into the plush velvet chair, still not used to such luxury.

“I keep expecting someone to chase us out,” she whispered.

“No one will. You look like you belong here.” Brivul reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Because you do belong here. With me.”

Her heart fluttered. She still couldn’t quite believe this powerful warrior was her mate. That the universe had chosen her—a former slave—for him.

“What’s that smile about?”

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