Page 27 of Naga Warlord's Mate

The mate bond throbbed insistently as Andear approached the council’s chamber. His protective instincts commanded him to return to Priscilla, to wrap his tail around her and keep her safe from whatever game the Xirath were playing. But duty called, and a warlord could not ignore the council—even if every scale on his body urged him to do just that.

Chapter 14

Priscilla

Priscillapacedacrossthetraining center’s stone floor. The torchlight cast flickering shadows that danced along the walls. Her muscles ached pleasantly, reminding her of what had transpired between her and Andear.

She touched her lips, still feeling the ghost of his fierce kiss. “What am I doing?” she whispered to the empty room.

The training weapons lined the walls in perfect order, exactly as Andear insisted they remain. Everything about him was disciplined and controlled—until it wasn’t. The way he had looked at her, like she was something wild and dangerous that he couldn’t resist, made her breath catch, even now.

She stopped at the wall where they had... where everything had changed. The rough stone pressed against her palm as she leaned against it. His scent still lingered in the air—leather, steel, and something uniquely him.

“Stay,” he had commanded before leaving. The word echoed in her mind, stirring something deep inside her. No one had ever spoken to her that way—not as a possession or a servant, but as something precious and desired.

Priscilla wrapped her arms around herself, trying to sort through the storm of emotions. “This changes everything,” she murmured. The training center suddenly felt too large, too empty without his overwhelming presence.

She moved to the center of the room, falling into the defensive stance he had taught her. The familiar position helped center her thoughts, but each movement reminded her of his hands guiding her form, his body pressed against hers as he corrected her stance.

“I should leave,” she told herself firmly. But she remained, caught between what she should do and what she wanted. The council meeting must be about the Xirath. Her outburst had ensured that. Yet here she was, thinking only of the way Andear’s eyes had blazed when he looked at her.

Her fingers traced the slight marks his claws had left on her arms—not wounds, but reminders of his careful restraint even in passion. He was dangerous, powerful, and everything she should fear. Instead, she craved him more.

A metallic scrape against stone pulled Priscilla from her thoughts. Her heart jumped as she caught movement through the windows—a dark shape shifting against the night sky. The torchlight caught something reflective—the unmistakable glint of a blade.

Her muscles tensed, instinct from years of slavery screaming at her to run. But Andear’s training kicked in. She forced herself to stay still, analyzing her surroundings like he’d taught her. The training weapons were too far. The door was across the room. The windows were—

Another shadow joined the first. They moved with practiced precision, not the casual movements of guards on patrol. The hair on her neck rose.

“Think,” she whispered to herself, backing away from the window. “What would Andear do?”

But Andear wasn’t here. He was at the council meeting, probably arguing about the Xirath. The Xirath. Her stomach dropped as realization hit. Her outburst at the meeting. The way she’d challenged them publicly.

A soft thud above made her freeze. More shadows gathered at the windows.

Her hands shook as she reached for the nearest object—a wooden practice staff. It felt pathetically inadequate against real blades, but it was better than nothing. The weight of it steadied her slightly, grounding her in Andear’s lessons.

Metal scraped against glass. She had seconds at most.

“Stay,” Andear had commanded. But staying meant death. The training center’s shadows suddenly felt like a trap rather than shelter. Her breath came faster as she realized they had waited until she was alone. Until Andear was gone.

Glass exploded inward as a dark figure crashed through the window. Priscilla’s body moved before her mind could catch up, muscle memory from countless training sessions takingover. She dropped and rolled, the wooden staff clutched tightly against her chest.

The assassin’s blade whistled through the air where she stood moments before. Her heart hammered, but this time the fear didn’t paralyze her. Instead, it sharpened her focus, just as Andear had taught her.

“Not so brave without your warlord.” The assassin sneered. The voice was distinctly Xirath, confirming her worst fears.

Two more figures slipped through the shattered window. Their scaled armor gleamed in the torchlight, marking them as elite Xirath warriors. The kind that surely specialized in making problems disappear.

Priscilla adjusted her grip on the staff, falling into the defensive stance Andear had drilled into her countless times. “Brave enough to face you,” she shot back, proud that her voice didn’t shake.

The first assassin lunged. Priscilla pivoted, bringing the staff up to block the blade. The impact jarred her arms, but she held firm. Andear’s voice echoed in her head:Use their momentum against them.

She let the staff slide along the blade, stepping inside the assassin’s guard. Her elbow connected with their throat, sending them stumbling back. For a heartbeat, triumph surged through her.

Then the other two attacked simultaneously. Priscilla ducked under one blade and blocked another with her staff, but the third strike caught her arm. Pain blazed across her skin.

“The little human learns tricks,” one of them taunted. “But tricks won’t save you.”

---