Page 55 of Fated to the Dragon Warlord

“What about you?”

“Oh, Rosalie and I got out of our cage long before the weird blue aliens got their claws in us,” Kerra says breezily. “Other than being stuck on a ship which smelt of shit, it hasn’t been so bad.”

“I trust you speak of the Bloar ship and not mine.”

Kerra tips her head on one side, her eyes now unreadable. “Well…” she says before the quirk at her lips becomes a smile, revealing her sweet, blunt, white teeth which bit me so beautifully when we were in the aquium.

I hold my chest and lash my tail. “I will make the bots and my warriors work harder than ever to keep this place clean,” I mock snarl.

“I’m joking, Darax.”

“What is a jo-ak?”

She glares at me. “After spending time with you and the other warlords, I know you most definitely know what a joke is,” she says. “You have a history.”

I feel my mouth hitch up at the edges. My little mate is perceptive and clever. And as she desires to look at the trap site, which is within my own sector, there is no harm in allowing it.

“Come,” I beckon to her. “We will get what we need and join the cohort who are making the journey. It’s about time you met my Sarkarnii form.”

KERRA

The rest of the Sarkarnii are loading up a ship docked with the airlock. It means I can’t get much of an idea what Vorostor is like outside of the central hub.

“Aren’t we going in that?” I ask.

“I haven’t stretched my wings in a long time.” Darax grins at me, his fangs longer than I remember. “I will lead, and my warriors will follow. Should we find anything, we can transport it back.”

“From what I’ve seen, you’re all big enough to transport anything back on your own.”

“Claws are not the most delicate of appendages to carry items.” Darax glares at his warriors. “Something we’ve all learnt over the nova-years.”

“And yet, apparently you want me to meet your Sarkarnii form?”

“I do, little mate.” Without any warning, Darax picks me up, pulling me against him as he strides past his warriors, and an airlock I didn’t see opens at his approach.

Hot air hits me, taking my voice and my protestation from me in the blast of heat and dryness.

We’re outside before I have time to blink. There is ruddy sand as far as the eye can see. It runs in ripples over dunes. Here and there, small blue bushes attempt to live in the cracks of sandy rocks.

“Of all the places you could have chosen to live, you chose this?” I say hoarsely as the fine sand goes down my throat.

Darax growls. “It was where we crash landed,” he says. “It seemed like a good place to stay at the time.”

In a swirl, he rises high above me, taking his dragon form. I tip my head back and back as I follow the enormous creature getting larger.

“Are you ready, little mate?”

Hearing Darax’s voice rumble out of the dragon, hollow, dark, and deep, is quite disconcerting. He holds out a massive clawed paw.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask, not easily forgetting what he said about claws and delicacy.

“I will put you on my back, between my spines. That way, you’ll have plenty to hold on to,” Darax rumbles, flexing his claws.

The prey inside me balks. The part of me which wants to trust him takes hold of his claw and steps into his paw. I’m lifted easily up and deposited on his shoulder. From there, I scramble up onto the spiney ridge which runs from the top of his head all the way down his back, between the huge wings and to his tail tip.

I try not to think too much about the tail tip.

Darax lifts his head, nostrils smoking like a volcano, before the clouds are sucked back with a sudden hiss.

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