Page 4 of The Dragon Warlord
“As is your right, Alpha,” I rasp out. I belong to him now. He can do whatever he wishes to me, and I welcome it. Sweet, Goddess Drakon, I crave it. “Rub your thumb over it—if you should wish to—and it will help.”
If he’d wanted me to suffer for him, I would have, but my suffering is distressing him.
He takes his thumb away and replaces it with his tongue.Fuck. Oh, fuck.That’s incredible. It’s wet and the bite is sensitive. I burn, but the pleasure overrides the pain just enough to stave off the burning.
“You taste like honey,” he says.
We dragons do eat a lot of honey.
There’s so much I want to know about him, but neither of us is good conversation. I can barely form sentences and he’s still more beast than Markaytian or Elf. I’m fine to lie here like this doing nothing but absorb his heat. He’s burning up too and eventually, he drips with as much sweat as I do, but we don’t want to move away from each other.
I’ve never felt such euphoria. It’s worth the pain. The two incongruous sensations don’t seem like they should be able to exist together, but they do.
Time passes. The orbs of light in the room extinguish on their own. It’s deep into the night, but no matter how exhausted I am, sleep can go fuck itself even though I’m certain he’s fallen asleep behind me.
That’s something new too. Being in another man’s bed. It’s wonderful and I know I have no way of knowing, but I’m still going to say it’s only this wonderful because it’s my alpha’s bed. I suspect I’ll never know unless the Warlord doesn’t want me in the same way I already want him. Our bond hasn’t even had the chance to form yet, and I know that he’s it for me.
It’s a long night of agony. I finally try to sleep, but I can’t, filled with too much pain, excitement, and purpose.
By the time the sun’s up, the pain has lowered by half. My joints ache, but my dragon’s blood is fast at work and the bond is taking hold.Tristanis seeping into me. I’m seeping into him. His energy is a welcomed new addition to mine. It’s the stormiest thing I’ve ever felt. Wild. The strongest thing to hitch yourself to. I invite it in and let it wrap around every cell, enjoying how it fuses with my gentle energy.
Not that I don’t bite too, but my violence is for the battlefield. For threats. I’m prone to tranquility. Listing all the ways I’ll balance him through our many centuries together keeps my mind off the persistent ache. Listening to him breathe and counting his heartbeats buoys the eagerness for my servitude to the Warlord to begin. He’s here. He’s real.
He’s mine.
* * *
He stirs behind me and when I try to move, a growl stills me. I’m facing the large windows of his room. There are double doors that lead to a veranda that extends into the open sky.
I shiver when his thick fingers trail down my arm. I’m dressed again. I know I haven’t slept so I must have somehow missed that whole process. Am I more fevered with pain than I think I am? After a quick perusal of his body, I see that he’s redressed too. “Take this off,” he says.
“This” is my jacket. What is he going to do? “In order to do that, I need to sit up, Warlord,” I say. My voice is rough. The lack of sleep is apparent.
He releases his grip and I’m careful to use small movements as I maneuver into a position where I can remove the jacket. Underneath, I’m wearing something like he is, a white sleeveless tunic.
It’s not my armored dragon-scale jacket. I wore something for the occasion. We’re always supposed to dress for “in case we’re chosen”. Dressing for comfort is wise, but I also wanted to look good and I’m glad I wore one of my fancy jackets for my alpha.
Sliding out of it carefully, the anticipation of what’s to come bubbles forth. Will he take me now? I hope so. I crave him like I’ve craved no other. I’d like nothing more than for the beast in him to claim my body as his.
Nothing untoward happens to my dismay. He orders me back into position once the jacket is off and with access to my bare arm, he can ghost his fingers up and down the naked skin. This is nice too. Less sexy, but it lulls me until at long last my eyelids flutter shut despite my efforts otherwise. I’d managed to stay awake all the way through the worst of the bonding, I can’t lose the battle with consciousness now.
“C’mon, Omega. Sleep.”
It’s a clear command and I won’t argue with my alpha. Not now, not ever. Even if I wanted to, my body is ready to give out. I sink into oblivion.
* * *
When I wake up, he’s no longer behind me, but prowling back and forth in front of the bed, forming a barrier between me and those who have come to check on me. Father is accompanied by Simone and Ikara who must have convinced Rayne to allow her to enter without him. Our shared father might be the dragon lord, but his husbands are all various versions of his Tops since he’s a brat through and through. Father needs his six husbands to balance him and it’s well-known that he recognizes their authority.
I often think of Simone as my other father and often call him Pa. All of Father’s husbands are parents of mine, but Simone spent the most time looking after me when I was a baby dragon. He still looks out for me the most now. His eyes shine with pride from a distance. It’s not unusual for a new alpha to become protective of his or her omega. I’m certain that’s why we didn’t see Father for a few days after he bit Tristan.
Possessiveness is a natural part of bonding and in my opinion the best part. Sex has never been at the forefront of anything for me, but being owned? Completely possessed? I need that. The more feral the Warlord is, the more I fall for him.
“No one’s going to touch him, Warlord,” Father says, handling the Warlord with care. He’s still not himself. Still more animal than Elf or human. Though does my alpha have any human left in him?
“They won’t. I’ll make sure of it. He’s mine. If anyone lays a finger on him, I’ll rip them apart,” Tristan says.
He’s so growly. I love it.
