Page 9 of Naga Warlord's Mate

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. Priscilla executing a perfect defensive stance, her eyes blazing with fierce determination. Priscilla refusing to back down when his warriors mocked her. Priscilla pushing through exhaustion with that stubborn set to her jaw.

“Enough,” he growled to himself, his scales rippling with agitation.

He had more pressing concerns. The Xirath delegation would arrive soon. Their presence threatened everything Nirum had built, everything he’d fought to protect. He needed to focus on strategy and on keeping his warriors sharp.

Yet, as he tried to sleep, his mind kept drifting to the way sunlight caught her golden hair, how her small frame moved with increasing grace. The pull in his chest squeezed uncontrollably.

“She’s human,” he reminded himself, his voice rough in the quiet room. “She has no place among Niri warriors.”

But she’d earned her place. Every day, she proved herself worthy of training, surpassing his expectations. The memory of hersmile after mastering a difficult move sent heat coursing through his blood.

Andear sat up, running his hand over his face. This attraction was dangerous. Impossible. He was a warlord, bound by tradition and duty. She was...

“Everything I never knew I wanted,” he admitted to the empty room and then immediately cursed himself for the weakness.

He stood, slithering along the length of his quarters. His tail lashed against the floor as he fought the urge to seek her out.

Andear soon settled back onto his sleeping platform, the smooth fabric cool against his scales. His quarters felt too confined, the air too thick with thoughts of her. The moonlight streaming through his window cast shadows that danced like her movements during training.

“This is madness,” he muttered, pressing his palm against his chest where that persistent pull refused to fade.

A soft night breeze carried the distant sound of the palace guards changing shifts. Andear closed his eyes, but instead of battlefield strategies or training formations, he saw green eyes filled with challenge. Delicate hands moved with increasing precision through combat forms. Golden hair caught the sunlight like liquid gold.

“She is human,” he growled into the darkness, as if saying it aloud again would make the truth easier to bear. “She’s a former slave who knows nothing of our Niri ways.”

But she was learning. Every day she absorbed his teachings. She adapted, evolved, and refused to break under the weight of tradition and prejudice. Just like he’d done, rising through the ranks to become warlord.

The pull in his body tightened again, and this time he didn’t fight it as he closed his eyes. In the darkness of his den, he could admit what he denied in the light of day. Priscilla was carving out a place in his world. Each day, she was chipping away at the walls he’d built around himself, walls made of duty and tradition.

His fingers instinctively traced the scar on his left arm, remembering how her eyes had lingered on it during training. Not with pity or revulsion but with understanding. She bore her own scars, worn like badges of survival.

Sleep began to cloud his thoughts, but even as consciousness faded, that pull remained. Constant. Undeniable. Like the gravity of Nirum’s twin moons, drawing him into her orbit whether he willed it or not.

Chapter 5

Priscilla

Thefirstsunhadn’tyet breached the horizon when Priscilla slipped through the streets toward the training grounds. Her muscles protested with each step, a week’s worth of bruises and strains making themselves known.

Movement in the shadows caught her eye. Andear stood beneath the stone archway, his massive frame unmistakable even in the dim light. His golden eyes tracked her approach, and heat crept up her neck that had nothing to do with exertion.

“You’re early.” His deep voice carried across the empty courtyard.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Priscilla said, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

His eyes narrowed as he approached her, stopping closer than necessary. “You’re favoring your right side.”

“I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t a question.” He circled her, and she fought the urge to track his movement. “Show me where.”

“It’s nothing. Just some bruises from yesterday’s sparring.”

“When Krav knocked you down.” His jaw clenched. “He struck too hard.”

“I can handle it.”

“That’s not—” He cut himself off, his scales shifting with irritation. “You need to tell me when you’re injured. No warrior trains at full capacity while hiding wounds.”

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