Page 17 of The Dragon Warlord
Using every ounce of willpower I have exhausts me, and I finally fall into a fitful sleep. It’s sometime later that a heaviness wraps around my calve and acts like a sleepy-time herb, knocking me unconscious whether I want to be or not.
* * *
Harsh light pries my eyes open. I don’t expect to be in my bed, warm and cozy, but that’s where I am. I recall the heaviness from last night. It’s still there, only now that I’m not consumed by bond sickness, I know what it is.
My alpha’s hand.
He came. He came for me.
I luxuriate under his hand, enjoying the weight of it and the declarative way it’s wrapped around my calve. A little burst of fear jolts through me. Will he be angry when he finds himself in my room?
Peering down, I spy him on the floor, seated against my bed. He’s wearing his red Warlord’s jacket and a pair of shorts underneath to cover the important bits, but that’s all. His head is lolled backward against the mattress, with his long black hair splayed in different directions. The long Elven ears wiggle and twitch in concert with whatever he’s dreaming about.
I wish I could see inside his head. There’s care, longing, and lust.Shit.It’s uncontrolled lust. He’s probably dreaming about one of his men. Curling onto my side without disturbing his hand on my lower leg, I watch him breathe, stunned forever by his beauty. How did I get so lucky?
“We tried, my fearless alpha,” I whisper.
“Huh?” His eyes snap open. Bewildered, he gazes around the room and only figures out where he is when his gaze lands on me.
My heart halts when for a moment I think he won’t know who I am again. I barely survived his lack of recognition the first time. Then his eyes light up and I exhale.He knows me.Thank the Goddess Drakon. “Good morning, Riv.”
“Morning, Warlord. I thought you’d be more upset to find yourself here.”
“It’s hard to be when I’m looking at you.” He shifts his arse on the ground, but he doesn’t take his hand off me. “Is that part of the bond too? Will it always make me happy to see you?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know, Warlord,” I say around a yawn.
“In any case, we got a few hours apart. That’s promising, right?”
He’s so hopeful, I’ll leave out the part about the suffering since he doesn’t appear to have picked up on it. When I was first picking up on his emotions, it took some time to decipher which were mine and which were his. The suffering bit is bound to get better as time wears on anyway. It’ll be a non-issue. It is a non-issue. It’s only a little bit of discomfort, which doesn’t compare to the real pain I’ve experienced on the battlefield.
“It’s promising, Warlord.”
3
Tristan
The dragon lord wants me to call this place home, eh? If that’s the case, shouldn’t he be making me feel welcome? It’s been weeks and weeks since I last spoke with him. He won’t see me no matter what kinds of fits I throw. The most interaction I get with him is when he lands on the side of The Tower, and it shakes the whole thing. I don’t know what game he’s playing, just that he is playing one. I spend a whole day quizzing River about what he could be up to, my muckraking theories growing more and more elaborate until it’s just me trying to make River laugh.
He's exquisite when he laughs.
The bond between the dragon lord and I doesn’t seem to be fussed at all in the same way the one between River and I is. River said that some bonds aren’t as strong as others and so I’m going with that as the reason though I don’t actually know the reason. I have too much on my plate to worry about things that don’t need worrying about, so I thank the Gods for small mercies.
The Tower is a beautiful enigma. It’s built at the highest mountaintop I’ve ever seen, surrounded by nothing except more mountains to the east and more sky to the west. Despite it being called The Tower, there are two towers. One is taller than the other, but they are joined by a covered bridge. My chambers are in the tallest tower—the same as the dragon lord and his husbands. Both are made out of the strange material I’m told is stone but looks like seashell to me.
All dragons live in The Tower, but the food is grown in the mountains and is distributed to everyone in The Tower. I’m told some kind of portal is used to travel to said mountains. There is no trading of gold to get “paid” for work done. If work is not done, everyone suffers. That’s in theory, of course. I was assured that a tower-wide work strike has never happened. Dragons are generally happy and proud of dragon ways. They don’t seem to know they are prisoners here. Or if they do, they don’t appear to care.
“Where is this army I supposedly have?” I ask River. I’ve grown bored of meandering around the towers and fanning through books. I need to stretch my muscles. Now that things are better with River, I don’t feel the need to sequester myself.
We’ve made it a whole night apart and I can handle being around other dragons and River at the same time, without wanting to tear anyone’s neck out.
Huge progress.
Perhaps fighting isn’t a great idea, but I’d say that meeting the army is a great reward for my hard work.
We’re in a quiet section of the tallest tower, several stories up, overlooking the hustle and bustle below. We sit on a long bench, his jacket is hung over the balcony, and I’ve comfortably rested my knee against his. I resisted him yesterday, but after what seemed like a long night without him, I need something or the burn is going to result in someone losing their head.
“We must portal there, Warlord. I’m certain our lord would like you to meet the army soon, but you’ll have to acquire his permission first.”
