Page 31 of Naga Warlord's Mate

Priscilla turned away and walked over to the rack lined with Andear’s weapons. She ran her fingers along a curved blade, admiring how the metal caught the dim light. The weapon was beautiful in its deadliness, perfectly balanced and clearly well-maintained. Her skin tingled as she traced the intricate engravings along the hilt.

“You keep these near your bed?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the heat radiating from Andear as he moved behind her.

His chest pressed against her back, his scales smooth and warm through the thin fabric of her shirt. The contact sent electricity racing through her body. Memories of their earlier encounter in the training center came flooding back—his hands on her skin, his mouth claiming hers with fierce possession.

“A warrior does not leave himself unarmed,” he growled, his breath hot against her ear. His tail curved possessively around her waist, holding her against him.

Priscilla’s pulse quickened. She should step away, maintain some distance between them. But her body betrayed her, leaning back into his solid warmth. His scent surrounded her—leather and steel and male musk.

“Is that why you’re keeping me here?” The words came out breathier than she intended. “Because you think I need a warrior’s protection?”

His hands settled on her hips, his fingers flexing against the fabric. “I’m keeping you here because you’re mine to protect.” His voice dropped lower and rougher.

The possessiveness in his voice should have angered her. Instead, it sent heat pooling low in her belly. She turned herhead, meeting his molten gold gaze. “And if I don’t want protection?”

His grip tightened. “What you want,” he growled low, “is irrelevant when your safety is concerned.”

“My safety,” she echoed, turning in his arms to face him fully. “Is that really all this is about?”

Priscilla’s breath caught as Andear leaned in, his massive frame caging her against the weapon rack. The heat from his body enveloped her, his scales radiating warmth that made her skin tingle where they touched. His scent filled her senses, making her head swim.

His eyes dropped to her lips, darkening with an intensity that made her heart skip. The grip of his hands on her hips tightened possessively. His tail curled tighter around her waist, pulling her closer until she could feel every hard plane of his warrior’s body against hers.

She parted her lips slightly, anticipation coursing through her veins. Never had she wanted someone’s kiss so desperately. Never had she felt this pull, this magnetic need drawing her toward another person. His breath fanned across her face as he drew closer, and her eyes fluttered shut. The world narrowed down to just this moment, just the two of them and the electric tension crackling between their bodies.

A sharp knock at the door shattered the moment.

“Warlord!” a voice called out through the heavy door. “Urgent news from the council regarding the Xirath delegation.”

Andear’s growl rumbled through his chest, vibrating against her where they touched. His tail tightened briefly around her waist before slowly unwinding. When she opened her eyes, his expression was thunderous, his jaw clenched in barely contained frustration.

“We’re not finished here,” he growled low, for her ears only. The promise in his voice sent shivers down her spine.

The knock came again, more insistent this time. “Warlord!”

Priscilla watched as Andear pulled away from her. The loss of his warmth left her skin tingling where they’d touched. He yanked open the heavy door with barely contained irritation, revealing Jorek.

Jorek’s eyes widened slightly at finding her there, but he quickly focused on Andear. “The council meets at dawn to discuss the Xirath alliance further. They’re pushing for immediate approval of the moon base.”

Andear’s tail whipped against the stone floor, the sound sharp in the tense air. “Of course they are. The cowards would rather bend than fight.”

“There’s more.” Jorek shifted uncomfortably. “The Xirath leader suggested that allowing human breeding programs would strengthen our... relationship.”

Priscilla’s stomach turned to ice. Breeding programs. She knew exactly what that meant. She’d seen it firsthand in the slave markets of Jorvla. Women forced to carry children for alien masters.

Andear’s growl filled the chamber, deep and threatening. His claws extended, scraping against the door frame. “They dare suggest this? After we abolished slavery?”

“The council claims it would be voluntary,” Jorek said, though his expression showed what he thought of that lie.

“Nothing about the Xirath is voluntary. They take what they want through force or manipulation. They will not stop until they own everything—including Nirum.” Andear paused for a moment. “Leave us,” Andear finally commanded.

Jorek bowed and retreated quickly.

The door slammed shut with enough force to rattle the weapons on the wall. Andear stood with his back to her, every line of his body rigid with barely contained rage. His tail continued its agitated movement, sweeping across the floor in sharp arcs.

“They won’t stop,” he said finally, his voice rough. “Not until they have what they want.”

“Then we need to stop them,” Priscilla said firmly, even as fear churned in her gut. “The council has to see what they really are.”

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