Page 33 of Naga Warlord's Mate

Andear’s claws flexed involuntarily. Perceived risks. As if the Xirath’s history of conquest and slavery was mere speculation. As if the assassins hadn’t left their bloody signature all over his training grounds. His tail coiled tighter, his muscles bunching with the effort of remaining silent.

“Their medical technology alone could save our population,” another council member added. “Think of the possibilities.”

The mate bond hummed between him and Priscilla, amplifying his awareness of her racing pulse and controlled breathing. She was afraid but holding herself steady. These fools would hand her future to the very monsters who would see her kind enslaved again.

Andear’s muscles rippled with tension as Zarlok’s smooth voice filled the chamber, describing the supposed wonders of Xirath’s medical advancements.

The mate bond thrummed a warning through Andear’s blood as Priscilla suddenly stepped forward beside him. Her small frame radiated defiance, making his protective instincts surge. He coiled his tail tighter, ready to strike if needed.

“Medical advancements?” Priscilla’s voice cut through Zarlok’s speech like a blade. “You mean your breeding programs?”

The council’s chamber fell silent. Andear’s muscles bunched as he watched several council members shift uncomfortably in their seats. The air grew heavy with tension.

“Do you really expect us to believe anything you say?” Priscilla continued, her voice steady despite the slight tremor Andear detected in her hands. “Especially when you still keep my people in chains in your domains?”

The room stilled completely. Andear’s nostrils flared at the spike of fear that cut through Priscilla’s scent, though her face remained resolute. His tail twitched, ready to wrap around her and pull her to safety at the first sign of threat.

Zarlok’s head tilted, his metallic scales catching the light as his gaze fixed on Priscilla. The diplomat’s smile spread slowly, revealing needle-sharp teeth. “You speak boldly, little one. Perhaps you should be reminded of where you come from.”

A low growl rumbled through Andear’s chest before he could stop it. His body moved on instinct, sliding closer to Priscilla until his bulk partially shielded her from Zarlok’s predatory stare. The mate bond screamed to protect, to destroy the threat, to tear apart anyone who dared threaten what was his. But he held himself in check, knowing one wrong move could give the Xirath exactly what they wanted—an excuse for war.

Still, he let his stance speak for him. His tail coiled protectively near Priscilla’s feet, his upper body towering over her smaller frame. His claws remained visible at his sides, a silent warning to the Xirath leader. The message was clear. Touch her, and diplomatic immunity would mean nothing.

The council members whispered among themselves, their tails twitching with nervous energy at this display of possessiveness from their normally stoic warlord.

“This meeting is concluded,” Elder Caenz announced, his jeweled robes rustling as he stood.

Zarlok bowed, all false courtesy, but his gaze lingered on Priscilla. The promise of retribution gleamed in his eyes before he turned and slithered from the chamber, his armored tail leaving scratches on the polished floor.

The moment the chamber doors closed, Andear whirled on Priscilla. His tail remained coiled around her, but his eyes blazed with fury. “You are reckless.” The words came out as a growl, but his chest was tight with fear for her safety.

Priscilla lifted her chin, her green eyes flashing. “And you would have let them spew their lies unchecked?”

“I would have handled it.” His hands clenched at his sides, fighting the urge to shake sense into her. The mate bond pulsed, making his protective instincts surge stronger.

“Like you’ve been handling it? Standing there silently while they plot to bring slavers to our doorstep?” She stepped closer, defiant despite their height difference. “I won’t be silent. Not anymore.”

The fire in her words stirred something in his chest—pride warring with frustration. His tail tightened reflexively around her legs. “You’ve made yourself a bigger target.”

She pressed her hand against his chest, and the contact sent electricity through his scales. “Well, now they know I won’t be an easy one.”

Andear’s tail scraped against the polished floor as he slithered beside Priscilla through the palace corridors. The silence between them crackled with tension, matching the storm brewing in his chest. His black scales rippled with barely contained rage as they passed elaborate tapestries and ornate pillars that suddenly seemed meaningless in the face of what they’d just witnessed.

The mate bond thrummed insistently, making him hyper-aware of Priscilla’s quick heartbeat and the lingering scent of herdefiance. She walked with her head high, but he caught the tremor in her hands. His protective instincts surged, warring with his fury at her reckless behavior.

How could he keep her safe when she insisted on making herself a target? The question gnawed at him as they approached his den. His tail twitched with agitation, remembering Zarlok’s predatory gaze fixed on his mate. The thought made his claws flex involuntarily.

The weight of his position as warlord pressed down on his shoulders. His warriors looked to him for guidance, his people for protection. Yet here he was, consumed by the need to shield one stubborn human woman who seemed determined to challenge the most dangerous force in their sector.

His coils tensed as they entered his quarters. The familiar scent of leather mixed with her honey essence did nothing to calm the storm in his blood. The mate bond vibrated stronger here, in their private space, making it harder to maintain his distance.

“You can’t protect me if you’re too busy playing political games,” Priscilla finally broke the silence, her voice tight with frustration.

Andear’s tail lashed out, leaving marks on the stone floor. “And you think challenging them openly is better?” His voice came out as a low growl. “The council’s greed blinds them, but the Xirath’s patience has limits.”

The conflict tore at him. His duty to Nirum demanded strategic thinking and careful maneuvering. But the primal part of him, the part that recognized Priscilla as his mate, wanted to tear apart anyone who dared threaten her, including the Xirath leader Zarlok.

His coils shifted restlessly as he watched her pace the room. The mate bond made his scales itch with the need to wrap around her and shield her with his body. But coddling her would only make her more defiant. And the Xirath would use any sign of weakness against them both.

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