Page 15 of Naga Warlord's Mate

“Getting tired, warlord?” Her taunt carried the edge of a smile.

Andear’s response was to unleash a series of strikes that would have overwhelmed most of his seasoned warriors. But Priscilla moved like water, flowing around his attacks rather than meeting them head-on. Pride and frustration warred in his chest as she evaded him yet again.

Their dance continued, neither willing to yield ground. The space between them was charged with an unspoken challenge that had little to do with combat and everything to do with the way her presence made him feel alive.

Time slowed as Priscilla’s staff swung wide. Her momentum carried her forward, her feet tangling beneath her. Andear’s warrior instincts took over before conscious thought could intervene. His arms shot out, catching her small frame against his chest as the training weapons clattered to the floor.

The instant her body pressed against his, lightning coursed through his veins. The mate bond slammed into him with the force of a supernova, searing through every nerve ending. His scales rippled with clear awareness, every point of contact between them burning like a brand.

Her heart thundered against his chest, matching the frantic rhythm of his own. The scent of her—sweet honey tinged with exertion—filled his lungs, drowning out everything else. Her golden hair had come loose from its braid, tickling his forearms where he held her.

The mate bond pulsed between them, ancient and undeniable. It sang through his blood, demanding he claim what was his. Hismuscles tensed, fighting the primal urge to pull her closer, to mark her, to make her understand exactly what she was to him.

But she was human. Fragile. Former slave. The rational part of his mind screamed warnings even as his body betrayed him, refusing to let her go. His fingers splayed possessively across her back, feeling the heat of her skin through her thin training clothes.

The morning sunlight streaming through the high windows caught the flush on her cheeks. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating as she stared up at him. Her breath came in short gasps, warm against his scales.

The training center fell silent save for their breathing. The air grew thick with tension, crackling with possibility and danger. Neither moved, caught in this moment between what was and what could be. His entire world narrowed to the feel of her in his arms, the mate bond humming between them like a living thing.

Her small frame fit perfectly against his chest, her soft curves pressed against his hard muscle and scales. His arms tightened instinctively, drawing her closer. Their eyes locked—her green gaze wide with confusion and something deeper that made his blood burn. Andear felt her pulse flutter against his scales, each beat echoing through his body.

The warrior in him wanted to mark her, to show everyone that she belonged to him. The warlord in him knew better. She was human. And she... she deserved better than being bound to a war-hardened Niri who knew nothing but battle and training.

With every ounce of willpower he possessed, Andear released her and stepped back. The loss of contact felt like physical pain, the mate bond screaming in protest.

“Training’s done.” His voice came out harsh and guttural. “Leave. Now.”

Priscilla’s face fell, hurt flashing across her features before she masked it. “But we usually train for longer—”

“I said leave!” The words exploded from him, far sharper than he intended. His scales bristled with the effort of maintaining distance.

She flinched, and he hated himself for causing that reaction. But it was necessary. Better she fear him right now than know the truth—that every instinct in his body was screaming for him to claim her as his mate.

Without another word, Priscilla gathered her things and left. The sound of the training center door closing behind her echoed with finality.

Andear’s fist slammed into the nearest training dummy, splintering the wood. The mate bond pulsed like an open wound, demanding he go after her. Instead, he forced himself to breathe and to think.

She couldn’t know. Not about the bond, not about how her mere presence made his carefully maintained control splinter. Shewas finally free. He wouldn’t trap her in another cage, even one gilded with his protection and desire. No matter what his body demanded, no matter how the mate bond sang, he would keep his distance. He had to.

Andear lay in his bed later that night, the soft fabric doing nothing to cool his heated scales. The mate bond throbbed, demanding he seek out Priscilla. Her scent still clung to his scales from their earlier encounter, sweet honey mixed with determination.

He growled, rolling onto his side. The massive bed felt empty and wrong. His body craved her small frame pressed against him, yearned to wrap around her protectively.

The logical part of his mind knew he needed to ban her from training. It would be easier and cleaner. But the memory of her fierce pride when she mastered a new move, the way her eyes lit up with achievement...

His fists clenched in the sheets. No. He wouldn’t take that from her. She’d earned her place through sheer determination. He would simply maintain his distance and keep their interactions purely professional.

But his treacherous mind replayed the feeling of catching her, how perfectly she’d fit against him. The way her pulse had raced beneath his touch, her breath catching as she stared up at him with those bright green eyes.

The mate bond surged again, filling his head with visions of claiming her, marking her, making her his in every way possible. His scales rippled with need.

“Control yourself,” he snarled at the ceiling. “You’re a warlord.”

But the bond didn’t care about rank or reason. It demanded he acknowledge what his body already knew. She was his mate. His to protect. His to cherish.

Sleep remained elusive as memories of her training tormented him—the graceful arc of her body as she dodged, the flash of triumph in her smile when she landed a hit.

Andear groaned, dragging his hand down his face. Professional distance. That was all he could offer her. All he should offer her. But as he finally drifted toward sleep, his body ached with the need to hold her again, to feel her warmth against his scales, to breathe in her intoxicating scent.

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