Page 47 of Naga Warlord's Mate

His tail flicked, agitation clear in the sharp movement. “You were never helpless. Untrained, yes. But never helpless.”

The admission made her smile despite the gravity of their situation. She watched as his warriors parted before them, their respect for their warlord evident in every movement. But she noticed something else now. They nodded at her, too, acknowledging not just their commander’s mate but a fellow warrior.

“The Xirath think they know what I am,” she said softly, remembering the contempt in their eyes. “They see a former slave. A weak human.” Her grip tightened on her sword. “They’re wrong.”

Andear’s massive hand settled on her shoulder. “They will learn their mistake.” His voice dropped lower, meant only for her. “You are a warrior of Nirum now. My warrior.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver through her, but it didn’t feel like chains. This was a choice—her choice. To fight. To protect. To stand beside the mate who had taught her to be strong.

The fleet loomed ahead, sleek ships ready for battle. Priscilla raised her chin, her eyes bright with determination. She was no longer running from chains. She was running toward freedom—not just her own but everyone’s. And this time, she had the strength to fight for it.

Chapter 25

Andear

Throughthereinforcedviewingwindow of the command bay, Andear watched the stars blur past as his warship cut through space. His powerful tail coiled beneath him, his muscles tense with anticipation. The silence felt wrong—too peaceful for what lay ahead.

His gaze shifted to Priscilla. She stood beside him, gripping her weapon with white knuckles, her jaw set in determination. The sight of her in battle gear made his chest tighten. The mate bond urged him to wrap his tail around her and shield her from what was coming.

“Your grip is too tight,” he said. “You’ll tire faster that way.”

Priscilla’s fingers loosened slightly. “I know how to hold a weapon now. You made sure of that.”

His lips curved into a slight smirk. “Yet you still leave your left side open.”

“Only to draw them in.” She met his gaze, challenge sparking in her green eyes.

A warrior approached with a tactical update. “Warlord, we’ve detected Xirath forces mobilizing on the surface. They’re setting up defensive positions around their landing sites.”

Andear’s tail flicked sharply. “They move fast for invaders who claim to come in peace.” He studied the holographic display,marking the enemy positions. His warriors waited for his command, their scaled bodies tense with anticipation.

The mate bond surged as Priscilla stepped closer. The scent of her—honey and steel—made his scales tighten. She shouldn’t be here. She should be safe in his den, far from the coming bloodshed. But he had learned the hard way that she would never stay behind.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said, not taking her eyes off the tactical display. “I earned my place here.”

Andear’s tail curled around her ankle possessively. “Yes. You did.” The words came out rough. He couldn’t deny her strength any more than he could deny the pull between them.

Through the window, their target moon grew larger. Its cratered surface bore the scars of previous conflicts but none like what was coming. Andear’s eyes narrowed. The Xirath would learn what it meant to threaten what was his… Priscilla and Nirum.

The ship’s hull groaned as they pierced the moon’s atmosphere, metal straining against gravitational forces. Andear’s tail coiled around the support beam, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding below. The Xirath had already established their position—neat rows of soldiers in gleaming armor, their energy cannons casting an eerie purple glow across the cratered surface.

“Ready the drop shields,” he commanded, his voice carrying over the ship’s rumble. His warriors moved with practicedprecision, checking their gear one final time. The scent of ozone and heated metal filled the air, mixing with the sharp tang of anticipation.

His gaze found Priscilla, her blonde hair tucked beneath protective gear and her movements sure despite the ship’s violent descent. The mate bond pulsated between them, making his scales ripple with the need to protect her. But she had proven herself worthy of standing among his warriors.

“Remember all of your training,” he told her, his tail unconsciously shifting closer. “Stay in formation.”

She checked her weapon’s charge, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. “Worried, warlord?”

“About you? Always.” His voice dropped lower. “But not about your ability to fight.”

The ship stabilized at drop altitude, hovering just above the moon’s surface. Through the viewing port, Andear could see the Xirath soldiers shifting, their weapons charging. His blood sang with the promise of battle, his scales darkening with aggression.

“Warriors of Nirum,” he called out, his voice carrying the weight of command. “Today we remind the Xirath why our world has never fallen to invasion.”

His warriors responded with a collective growl, weapons humming to life. Andear’s tail uncoiled from the support beamas he moved to the drop bay doors. Priscilla took her position beside him, her presence both comforting and concerning. He would have to trust her to hold her own—she had certainly proven herself capable of that.

The bay doors opened with a hydraulic hiss, revealing the battlefield below. Wind whipped through the chamber, carrying the acrid smell of charged weapons and alien technology. Andear’s muscles tensed, ready for the drop.

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