Page 110 of The Dragon Warlord
My heart takes a sigh, and I can’t wait until later.
* * *
It’s well known that I’m father’s favorite. I’m most of my sibling’s favorites, except Keldrid. He takes personal offense to my ranking. It’s not my fault. I didn’t make anyone choose me as their favorite, but I am the youngest and it comes with the territory.
Being the favorite doesn’t buy me out of trouble, but I’m less likely to be in trouble. I can’t think of a thing I’ve done wrong—lately—so I devise that this must be about Tristan.
Father’s wandering the topmost gardens. Because the tower winds in a swirl up to the sky, the gardens follow the design, decorating the pearl-white column. The topmost gardens are the largest section of gardens with enough room for Father to land when he flies in. He’s staring off into the wild sky, his hair long and loose with flyaway hairs whipping around him. He can feel my approach.
When I was a small dragon, I would run to him and he’d lift me in his arms, so he could walk the garden with me set on his hip.
“River. Thank you for coming,” he says as though I had another choice. “Please, walk with me.”
I’ve never had to bow for him in this setting. It’s his way of saying this is a casual chat, but that doesn’t mean it will hold any less value. Father’s words always carry something else with them. He’s an ancient creature, more ancient than me. That’s the way ancient creatures are.
Mimicking his posture, clasping my hands behind my back like his, I follow him through the tall bushes of red-tailed roses. “You are an intelligent man. I’m sure you know why you’re here.”
“I know it’s to do with my alpha, my lord.”
“Mmmhm. You understand that because he’s my omega there are instincts that I cannot quiet.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I know he doesn’t like it. This is why I wish he wouldn’t be so difficult about spending time at home. He needs to understand his dragon or there’s going to be a problem. If he didn’t have a damn baby on the way, I’d keep him longer.”
I don’t have to wonder as to why he’s not. He can do whatever he wants. He won’t because he loves Tristan … but it’s complicated.
“Father? Is there something you think I can do to help?”
“Seduce him. He needs to fuck you. He won’t listen to me about it. It’s infuriating having someone who exercises their own free will so often.”
Definitely not something Father’s used to other than with his mates. It’s entertaining, but he might break the rules to send me down for punishment if I laugh at him, and then Tristan will show more of his free will when he has words with him about it.
“We’re going to, my lord. No seduction necessary.” Which is good. I’d be terrible at it.
“You know that’s what needs to happen, don’t you?”
“I know, Father.” I lived in denial for a long time about me and Tristan because he was so opposed, but we have more than the standard alpha-omega bond and it won’t let us ignore it any longer. “Please, give him a little more time?”
Father huffs. This is something he can’t force, and he knows it. “You’re clearly amendable and so is he. I’ll have to try another approach.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Whatever needs to be done. I need my Warlord in working order.” Sure, that’s the only reason. “You, wear something more revealing.”
“Father.”
“It’s your destiny.”
I sigh long and heavily because I don’t need another riled-up dragon on my hands. My focus is for my alpha. “I’ll remove my coat, but that’s the best you’re going to get.”
I can’t deny looking forward to the delicious shiver I’ll get when Tristan’s possessively trying to cover me up.
“Are you learning disobedience from him too?”
“I’m exercising the skills you taught me—to think for myself.”
“I’m not just your father, but your lord.”
