Page 41 of Naga Warlord's Mate

Priscilla placed her hand on his scaled chest, her touch both soothing and maddening. “You’re sure about this? If you’re caught—”

“Then I will die protecting my mate,” he cut her off, his eyes blazing. “As any worthy warlord would.”

The sisters exchanged a look that spoke volumes. Andear’s scales bristled at their silent communication, but he held his ground.

Finally, Mila nodded. “Having a warlord of your caliber would improve our chances significantly.”

“Then it’s settled,” Andear declared. “I will guard your backs while you gather the evidence we need.” His hand cupped Priscilla’s face, his thumb tracing her lower lip. “And no one will dare touch what is mine.”

Chapter 22

Priscilla

Thetwinmoonscastan ethereal glow over the Xirath encampment, their silver light reflecting off the sleek hull of the massive ship. Priscilla adjusted the hooded cloak that concealed her features. Mila crouched beside her, both of them wearing the traditional robes of Jorvlen traders.

Andear melted into the shadows behind them, his red scales making him nearly invisible in the darkness. His tail wrapped around Priscilla’s waist as they paused behind a stack of supply crates, the touch both possessive and protective.

“Six guards stand at the main entrance,” Mila whispered, her voice barely audible above the hum of the ship’s engines.

Priscilla studied the patrol patterns, remembering similar formations from her time in Jorvla. “They rotate every fifteen minutes. The gap is small, but—”

“No.” Andear’s grip tightened. “The risk is too high.”

“We need that proof,” Priscilla hissed back, turning to face him. “Unless you’d rather wait for the council to debate while the Xirath build their base or declare war against Nirum?”

His gold eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, a group of workers emerged from the ship. Andear pulled both women deeper into the shadows, his body coiled with tension.

“Look.” Mila pointed to several large containers being unloaded. “Those markings—they’re not supply codes.”

Priscilla’s fists clenched at her sides. The symbols matched those she’d seen on slave transport ships in Jorvla. “They’re already bringing them in. We can’t wait any longer.”

“Then we move now.” Andear’s voice was a low growl. His tail unwound from her waist, but his hand found her shoulder. “Stay close. If anything happens—”

“I know. Run.” Priscilla touched his hand briefly.

They crept forward through the shadows, using the cargo as cover. The metal hull of the ship loomed closer, its presence growing more oppressive with each step. Priscilla’s heart thundered against her ribs, but her movements remained steady. She’d spent years learning to move unseen—now those skills might save them all.

Priscilla pressed herself against the cold metal of a cargo container, her heart racing as voices drifted from around the corner. The metallic tang of ship fuel mixed with the acrid scent of Xirath armor polish—a smell that brought back memories of chains and darkness.

Two Xirath officers stood near the ship’s entrance, their scaled armor gleaming under the moonlight. The taller one gestured toward the mountains where Nirum’s capital lay.

“The council’s hesitation works in our favor,” the officer said, his reptilian features twisting into a smirk. “They debate while we prepare.”

“And once the moon base is established, we will begin phase two—subjugation.” The second officer’s laugh sent shivers down Priscilla’s spine.

Andear tensed behind her, his tail coiling tightly around her waist. She felt the vibration of his suppressed growl through her back. His hand found the hilt of his blade, his knuckles white with restraint.

Mila touched Priscilla’s arm, her fingers trembling. “Cilla—”

“Quiet,” Andear commanded, his voice barely a whisper against Priscilla’s ear. His breath was hot on her neck as he pulled her closer, shielding her with his body.

The officers continued their conversation, unaware of their audience. “The humans will be first, of course. That little display in the council’s chamber proved they’re getting too bold. Starting with that blonde one—”

Priscilla felt Andear’s muscles bunch, ready to spring. She pressed back against him, placing her hand over his on the blade’s hilt. His chest rumbled against her spine, but he remained still.

“Your mate bond is showing, warlord,” she whispered.

“They threaten what’s mine.” His words were more growl than speech.

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