Page 5 of The Dragon Warlord
“Of course, pet,” Father says. “I’ll let you feast on them with your teeth, but you should know you can trust me.”
He reaches a hand toward Tristan who preens against it like a cat, rubbing his face on Father’s palm. Father inches that palm to his bite mark on the right side of Tristan’s neck. He presses his thumb in just the right place and Tristan goes limp, collapsing to the floor.
“My lord,” I cry. He’s not supposed to do that.
“I needed to talk to you and that wasn’t going to happen with him prowling around like a maniac. I’ll stay over here—we all will—so that we don’t mark you up with our scent. That will end badly.”
My heart squeezes when I gaze toward my alpha in a heap on the floor.
“Are you all right?” Simone asks me.
“A little sore, but other than that I’ve never been better.”
Father nods. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s not going to remember any of this.”
“None of it?”
“I’m sorry, but it had to be this way. He might be a dragon, but he’s not of our culture. If I had waited, he would never have even entertained the idea of biting anyone let alone taking an omega. You’ll see. He has a strange set of morals.”
His morals might not be like ours, but they should be respected. I’m sure he’ll consider ours as well. Unfortunately, it’s too late to go back now. A bonding bite is forever.
“You manipulated him.” It’s not a question because it’s not unlike Father. He does what he feels must be done.
“Not this time. I simply let him out before I should have. He was a dragon for too long for the first time. If I hadn’t taken him out of the sky and forced him to shift into this Elven form, he would have remained in his animal form for Drakon only knows how long. He’s having a hard time reconciling that he’s not an animal still.”
That’s true. Even without knowing him, I can tell he’s not himself.
“He could be devastated,” I realize out loud. His hesitancy to take me even though he wanted to makes a lot more sense. It must be an awfully strong conviction for him to have that much self-control when he was in his most animalistic state. “If he didn’t want to do this—”
“It doesn’t matter what he wants. He was destined to take his place as Warlord and a Warlord needs an alpha and an omega. I gave him the out he needed. He can feel less guilty about it and simply blame me.”
I snap my mouth shut. He’s my father, but he’s also my lord. He understands things that I do not. I have to trust that. Let’s hope the new Warlord does too or we might have a problem.
“Of course, my lord.”
Ikara’s been quiet, but I know she’s watching me and Tristan. I’m watching him too. The simple rise and fall of his ribcage has ensnared me.
“River’s got it bad for the Warlord,” she says.
“So, what if I do?” There’s no use denying it to her. “And don’t call me that. I don’t have a name for now.”
She rolls her eyes. “He’s going to let you keep your name.”
“We’ll see.” So far, he calls me omega, and I’m content with that. Maybe I’ll simply be referred to as the Warlord’s omega. Then everyone would know that I’m his. My chest lifts with the thought of that.
But Ikara is a seer, and she probablyknows. I like the excitement of wondering about it and I wish she wouldn’t spoil things for me.
“Your brother is a purist, angel,” Father says.
“If that’s the case, should you be calling him my brother?”
Now she’s just being obtuse. “He’s not awake,” I point out.
My family isn’t permitted a claim on me anymore, not formally, in his presence. Um, hisconsciouspresence technically. I would prefer if they abided by the rules full stop, but I don’t mind some small exceptions. It will take some time for everyone to adjust. I don’t cease being a prince even though my title is now gone. Father is still my father, and my siblings are still my brothers and sisters, but I ultimately belong to the Warlord, which is the only formal claim that matters. It’s the only one I’ll care about going forward. All other monikers are restricted when I’m with him and no one would dare insult him by laying any sort of claim to me in his presence.
Ikara’s eyes brim with wiliness. “I am convinced that you are okay, if horribly smitten. I shall leave you.”
“I’ll have tea and brunch sent up for the pair of you. It would be a good idea to get food into your Warlord,” Simone advises.
