Page 16 of The Dragon Warlord
The animal in him is fully at play, which I’m sure was triggered by our little experiment in the kitchen. That danger I talked about? It’s there at full power. Now was not the time to have naughty thoughts.
He growls and then his teeth plunge. There’s a rush and a surge of endorphins, a type of non-sexual euphoria. I give myself over to it. I could die in the next moment for all I care. It’s the best kind of bliss.
When I’m reclaimed as his, he pulls away, wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his hand. His teeth are stained crimson, and his sapphire eyes are glazed over.
“Please never do that,” he says. “At least not until things with this bond business have calmed down. I have some idea of what I would do, and I would hate myself for it.”
I nod. “I promise.”
He smiles and moves the hair off my face. “So, there is a bit of brat I you. It’s small, but it’s there. I knew there had to be something. Even my men—dominant though they may be—have a brat’s playfulness about them.”
“I’m not a brat.” No one has ever accused me of such a thing.
“No. Definitely, not. No one would confuse you with me, you just have the tiniest seed of it. Enough to think things. I don’t imagine you would act on any of those thoughts. That’s the difference.” He releases me. “Now, c’mon, how did I do? Rate my performance, Omega.”
I can’t refuse when it’s an order like that. I form my answer as we walk the long, purple-carpeted hallway toward his rooms. “You did well, Alpha. I could sense your tension, but you didn’t say a word to Pewter as I spoke with her.” I pause. “Am I obligated to take points off for you re-staking your claim?” I wouldn’t because it’s a normal dragon instinct, one I like, but he might not agree.
“Is that what that was?” he asks. “It just felt like the thing to do. Was that instinct? Or the bond?”
“In a way, it was both.”
“Will that instinct settle?”
I hope it doesn’t too much. “It will settle. The degree it settles is different for each pair. One of my siblings has an alpha that gets tetchy if he’s touched too much and will re-claim him on sight.”
“Tell me about more things like this. It feels better knowing that I’m not the only one.”
“Of course you’re not the only one, Warlord.” I give several more examples, but I save the knowledge that as irritated as my brother’s alpha gets, he’s still allowed to be touched. I’ve never known a level of possessiveness as the Warlord has with me. It’s special. I don’t want anyone but the Warlord to touch me anyway.
My stories lift his mood and instead of heading straight to his quarters, he veers toward the library. “What do you say? Are you game for teaching me some more about dragon life?”
“It would be my honor, Warlord.”
* * *
The night might be my favorite time. When I lived in the other tower, I would sit on my veranda at night surrounded by the stars. As high up as we are, stars aren’t limited to blinking above you, but around you, winking and sparkling. A clear sky is deep dark blue, brightened by the moon, which gives the impression that it’s closer than it is. An overcast one is blanked with fluffy clouds and the moon’s glow still manages to light the sky when it's full.
The Warlord’s quarters are on the other side of my new room, a place I haven’t spent much time in. I’d rather be on the Warlord’s veranda with him, but I know the time is coming. He’s going to tell me I have to leave so he can sleep. I can sense his indecision. Finally, he sighs.
“Okay, Riv. Time to go.” He grits his teeth and his upper lip curls. “I’ll be okay.”
He’ll be, okay? Does he think he’s the only one who suffers when we’re apart? Likely. I don’t want to make this harder for him. I stand without protest. “Goodnight, Warlord.”
He can’t look at me and I can’t look at him. If we do, this isn’t going to happen. It’s bad enough that I can feel what he’s feeling. The torment. The rage. The worry.
The craving to be close to me that he won’t give into. He makes a point ofnottouching me.
As soon as I’m out of the door, I race across the giant black Warlord emblem that’s embossed into the white stone—a dragon, swirling in on itself, forming a circle. When I reach the safety of my room, I rip my scaled jacket off and toss it on the bed, throwing myself down after it. I cling to the last bit of his scent. I burn as if the skin has been ripped from my body and doused in ginger oil. Touching him would relieve me immediately, but he’s right, we have to get through this.
Perhaps there’s an antidote I’m unaware of. An elixir. Maybe a calming spell from a healer. Tonight, I’ll just have to bear the pain.
First, I break out into a sweat and so I undress down to my knickers and a long, white, sleeveless shirt. Tossing and turning in bed gives me short-term relief, but then I get so hot that I’m desperate enough to rush to the basin and splash water on my face.
Slowly, the heat fades and then I quake with horrible chills as if there’s an ice storm inside my body. I can’t get warm. My extremities grow especially cold until they’re numb. My teeth might chatter out of my skull. Wrapping my blankets tightly around my body, I pray for the night to end.
There’s also the craving and that is the doing of the bond. It’s unhappy. It’s telling me to go to him. That itneedshim. It’s a soothing voice, gently coaxing me to just get out of bed and sit near him. I could sit in the darkness, out of his reach, and see him. His scent could be enough. Inhaling him could be enough.
But it won’t be.
