Page 26 of Naga Warlord's Mate

“You should fear me,” he growled, even as his body curved protectively around her smaller form. “I am not gentle.”

“I’ve never wanted gentle,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the scar on his arm.

Andear’s eyes darkened at her words, his pupils dilating until only a thin ring of gold remained. The warrior in him roared to life, wanting to show her exactly how dominant he could be. His tail shifted, his scales sliding against her soft skin as he pulled her even closer.

The mate bond throbbed between them, demanding recognition, but he held back. She deserved to know everything before he claimed her completely. Before he marked her as his mate in ways that could never be undone.

She pressed herself against his chest, fitting perfectly against him as if she’d been made for him. The action nearly broke his restraint again. His arms tightened around her, one hand tangling in her hair as he fought against telling her everything.

Not yet. Not until he was sure she was ready to hear it. Not until he knew she wouldn’t run from what it meant to be bound to a Niri warlord for life.

Andear’s head snapped up at the sound of approaching footsteps outside the training center’s windows. His warrior instincts kicked in instantly. His muscles tensed as he calculated thedistance and time until whoever it was would reach the training center’s entrance.

“Clothes. Now,” he commanded, already moving with fluid grace. His tail unwound from Priscilla as he snatched up her scattered garments, tossing them to her with precise accuracy. The mate bond thrummed with shared urgency as she caught them mid-air.

His clothes lay in pieces around them. He quickly dressed while scanning the room for any evidence of their encounter. The footsteps grew closer—just one set, he realized.

Priscilla struggled with the ties of her training vest. Without hesitation, Andear slithered behind her, his large hands making quick work of the laces. “Your hair,” he murmured, noting how disheveled she looked.

She ran her fingers through the golden strands, trying to smooth them. Andear’s tail coiled restlessly as he listened to the approaching steps. Twenty seconds, maybe less.

“Training stance,” he ordered, moving to position himself across from her. His scales rasped against the stone floor as he adjusted his posture to appear as if they’d been practicing defensive forms. “Look exhausted.”

“That won’t be hard,” Priscilla muttered, falling into the stance he’d taught her earlier that week. The corner of his mouth twitched despite the tension.

The slithering halted just outside. Andear’s hands found Priscilla’s shoulders, adjusting her form as any instructor would. His touch lingered a fraction too long, the mate bond making it nearly impossible to maintain professional distance anymore.

“Your guard is too low,” he said, his voice carrying just enough for anyone entering to hear. “Again.”

The training center door swung open, and Andear’s scales bristled at the interruption. Jorek, one of his younger warriors, slithered in with practiced silence. The warrior’s eyes widened slightly at finding his warlord training here at this late hour, but he maintained his composure.

“Warlord, the council has summoned you.” Jorek’s gaze flickered briefly to Priscilla before returning to Andear. “They say it’s urgent.”

The council. Of course they would interrupt now. Andear’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he considered the timing. The Xirath were likely behind this late-night summons.

“Very well,” Andear replied, his tone holding the weight of command despite the lingering heat in his blood. He turned toward the door, his powerful tail propelling him forward with grace.

But he couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not without making sure she understood.

He paused, twisting his upper body to look back at Priscilla. She stood exactly where he’d left her, maintaining the training stance with perfect form. Pride and possession surged through him at the sight.

“Stay,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear the rough edge of need in it. The word carried more meaning than a simple command. It was a promise and a claim.

The mate bond pulsed as their eyes met. Priscilla gave a slight nod, her face carefully neutral, but Andear caught the slight quickening of her breath.

His tail twitched with the effort of turning away from her. He reluctantly followed Jorek out of the training center, every scale on his body aware of the distance growing between him and his mate.

Andear’s tail moved swiftly across the polished palace floors as he followed Jorek. Every muscle in his body tensed with the growing distance between him and Priscilla. The mate bond tugged at him, urging him to return to her.

“The timing of this summons concerns me,” he said, his voice low enough that only Jorek could hear. The younger warrior’s tail twitched nervously.

“The Xirath delegation was seen entering the council’s chamber not long ago,” Jorek admitted.

Andear’s jaw clenched as he fought to turn back. Priscilla was alone in the training center—vulnerable. The thought made his blood burn. He’d left her there, exposed, when the Xirath were prowling about.

“Send Krav to guard the training center,” he ordered, his voice carrying the edge of a growl. “Tell him to stay out of sight but watch for any... unexpected visitors.”

Jorek’s eyes widened slightly at the command, but he knew better than to question his warlord. “Yes, sir.” He slithered away quickly to relay the order.

---