Page 31 of The Dragon Warlord
When a pair has bonded, it’s fully expected that the alpha will mark his or her omega up. It’s a sign that the bond has taken well, and dragons use it as a gauge of how possessive the alpha is. It’s not fair because that’s not the only way one can be possessive. The Warlord has shown me how much I’m his plenty. I wish they’d look at other factors.
I make it to the apothecary, select the herbs I need, and head straight back to my alpha. At least that’s my intention, but I’m stopped by two of my brothers on the way back—Keldrid and Ace. They’re checking me over, circling me.
“There he is. The rumors are true,” Kel says.
“What rumors?”
“That the Warlord’s about to toss yah,” Ace says.
I jump to wanting to kill him. Never have I wanted to rip someone's throat out so badly. “Take that back.”
“I’ll take it back if you show me one mark, just one. Your bite doesn’t count,” Ace says.
I don’t have any marks to show him, but I’m firm in the knowledge that if the Warlord heard Ace right now, he’d be the one to rip him to shreds. I love my brothers, even when they’re idiots.
“If you don’t believe I’m his, you’re welcome to ask him.” I make to step around him so that I can head back to said alpha.
Ace stops me with a hand on my shoulder.
I spin into a panic. Hishandis on me. I’ll have to tell the Warlord about this—he’ll smell him on me anyway—and it’s going to end badly.
No one other than Tristan has touched me in weeks, including the time he doesn’t remember. It’s foreign to have someone else’s hand on me. I don’t like it.
“Take your hand off me, Ace.”
“You’re not going anywhere until you show us, River. C’mon.”
My heart speeds into a dash. They’re just being my goofy older brothers, but they’ve ruined everything. This could set me and the Warlord back weeks of the work we’ve done to settle the bond and he’ll be crushed. Maybe if I wash his scent off first, it won’t rile Alpha as much when I tell him.
From two stories above, there’s a loud growl before something shimmery red is flying through the air. The Warlord plummets to the ground in a crouch, smashing his fist when he lands, his jacket tails flaring as if they were his wings.
His sapphire eyes burn with blue fire, and he’s set to destroy. Dragons gather like summer flies to snow flower honey ready for a brawl. It’s one I’m powerless to stop. If I tried, I would be accused of disrespecting my alpha in public. It’s strictly forbidden. Tristan would be forced to chastise me publicly. Even if that weren’t the case, the Warlord isn’t going to be stopped. Ace is going to have to see this one through.
Or so I think until Father shows up. As Tristan’s alpha, he’s the only one who can stop Tristan. While Tristan circles Ace, Father leans against the pillar closest to the potential action.
But apparently, I’m first on the agenda. The Warlord grabs my face in one hand and moves it side to side, checking for damage. His long ears poke out of his black hair and he’s the most formidable force I’ve ever felt. Submitting for him is easy. Grabbing onto his bicep to steady myself, I gaze pure adoration at him while I let him do as he will with me.
“I felt your panic, Omega,” he says in a husky voice. He’s exhausted and still in pain, but he came for me when he thought I was in trouble. There’s also pride there. Hefeltme from all the way in his quarters. That aspect of our bond has been growing over the weeks for us. Maybe, eventually, we’ll be able to sense each other from great distances.
For now, I’d better try to save my foolish brothers’ necks.
“It was a misunderstanding,” I explain.
“That’s one way to put it. When I’m done here, things will be crystal clear.” His eyes narrow and he sniffs the air. Lowering his face to my shoulder, he inhales what’s definitely my brother’s scent. “Who touched him?” the Warlord demands, snarling. Everyone jumps.
Allowing my eyes to skip to my father, I think I’ll see him finally making his way over here. He hasn’t moved. His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s smirking. By Drakon, my father is a cocky bastard sometimes. He’s going to let this happen. He’s not here to stop this, he’s here to watch. He’s not even wearing his giant white cape, remaining unseen in the shadows.
I note that Tristan can’t sense him. Whether that’s because he can’t or he’s distracted by me, I’m not sure.
Alpha tosses me behind him to the tune of a ring of steel as he draws his sword. The ancient magic from within the sword dances in his eyes and crackles around him, making him his own thunderstorm. “Someone had better answer me, or I’ll start taking heads.”
No one wants to be Ace right now, especially Ace. He knows he has to make it right. Brock, one of our fathers, instilled a dragon’s sense of honor in us even though he’s not a dragon. He, like Rayne and Artemis, are from a line of dragon-taming wizards. They’ve got special magic and are considered dragonkin.
Swallowing, my tawny-haired brother forces himself to step forward. “Would you accept an apology, Warlord?”
“I was under the impression that no one would dare touch the Warlord’s omega. So, either you think I’m weak and have attempted to insult me or you lack intelligence. Which is it?”
Fear races over the crowd. Tristan’s voice is like deadly ice. His hulking energy silences the flock of dragons and sunlight pouring into the windows glints off his jacket, giving the impression that he’s a good spirit gone rogue. Some have fallen to their knees, reciting the Warlord’s prayer in hushed tones.
