Page 14 of Naga Warlord's Mate

“Perhaps she does belong here after all...”

Priscilla’s ribs ached with each breath, but she stood straighter, her chin lifted. The respect in their voices was worth every bruise.

Andear moved toward her, his massive frame blocking out the suns. “You showed true warrior spirit today.” His voice rumbled low, meant for her ears alone. “Not many would rise after a hit like that. Even fewer would demand more.”

Heat crept up her neck at his unexpected praise. Being this close to him, she could see the golden undertones of his red scales shimmer in the sunlight.

“I won’t stay down,” she said firmly. “Not anymore.”

Something flickered in his eyes—pride? Admiration? Before she could identify it, he seemed to catch himself. His scales darkened slightly, and he quickly turned away, clearing his throat.

“Training is done for today. All of you, dismissed.”

As the warriors dispersed, several nodded to her with newfound respect. One even clapped her shoulder as he passed—a gesture she’d seen them share among themselves.

Priscilla gathered her staff, every movement sending surges of pain through her ribs, but she couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time, she felt like she’d truly earned something on her own terms. No one had given her this victory. She’d fought for it and bled for it.

She caught Andear watching her one last time before he disappeared into the shadows of the training grounds, his eyes lingering on her face before he turned away.

Chapter 7

Andear

Andearpausedinthedoorway of the indoor training center early the next morning. The familiar scent of leather and metal filled his nostrils but now mixed with something distinctly different—her scent. Sweet, yet touched with determination and sweat.

Priscilla moved through the basic forms he’d taught her, her golden hair tied back in a braid. The wooden staff whirled in her hands as she executed a complex defensive pattern.

Her movements had evolved from clumsy attempts to fluid transitions, each strike of her training staff cutting through the air with growing precision. The sight of her practicing alone, determination etched in every line of her body, stirred something primal in him.

She was too small, too fragile compared to his warriors, yet she fought with a spirit that rivaled the fiercest Niri. It was maddening. He should maintain his distance, keep the proper separation between warlord and trainee. Instead, he found himself seeking her out, drawn to her presence like a blade to its target.

His mind flashed back to yesterday’s confrontation with Vren. The way she’d fallen, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, had nearly made him lose control. His scales had bristled, every instinct screaming to intervene, to protect. But then she’d pushed herself up, defiant and unbroken, demanding another round.

That moment had branded itself into his memory—her fierce green eyes, the set of her jaw, the way she’d refused to stay down. She hadn’t needed his protection. She’d stood her ground, earned respect through her own strength.

Sweat gleamed on her skin as she executed another perfect defensive stance. His chest tightened with an unfamiliar pride. She’d learned that move from him.

She spun, finally noticing his presence, and a knowing smirk crossed her face. “I thought you said humans weren’t built for this.”

Andear’s fingers flexed at his sides. She was right. He had said that. And she was proving him wrong with every passing day. The thought should have angered him. Instead, it sent a thrill of anticipation down his spine.

Andear grabbed a training staff and then moved onto the training mat, his movements deliberate and predatory. The morning light caught his red scales, highlighting the gold undertones as he settled into a fighting stance. His muscles coiled with barely contained power as he faced Priscilla.

“Show me what you’ve learned.” His voice rumbled through the empty training room.

Priscilla’s response was immediate—a swift strike with her staff that he deflected easily. But instead of retreating, she pivoted,using the momentum to launch another attack. Her movements had grown precise and calculated.

“Better.” He circled her, his staff a blur as he tested her defenses. “But not good enough.”

She matched his pace, her feet dancing across the mat in the pattern he’d drilled into her. The sharp crack of wood meeting wood echoed through the chamber. Her eyes tracked his every move, anticipating, adapting.

“You’re still telegraphing your attacks.” He feinted left, watching her scramble to adjust her stance. “An enemy would have gutted you by now.”

“Then stop playing and fight me properly.” Her challenge sparked something primal in his chest.

Andear’s lips curved into a dangerous smile. He increased his speed, his staff becoming an extension of his will as he pressed forward. The air crackled with tension as their weapons clashed again and again. She shouldn’t have been able to keep up, yet somehow she did.

Her smaller frame allowed her to slip past his guard in ways his warriors never could. She ducked under a sweep of his staff, nearly landing a hit on his side. His scales bristled at her proximity, her scent filling his lungs.

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