Page 34 of The Dragon Warlord
He’s acting like I’ve asked him to give up his arm. “I won’t force you, but I’d appreciate it if you’d leave yours here too.”
“Just for one day?”
I nod. “One day. I’ll probably leave mine in my chambers for the foreseeable future, but I won’t pester you for more than today.”
He smiles. “All right, Warlord. I guess one day couldn’t hurt.”
“That’s the spirit.”
As has become our ritual, we eat on the veranda and make our plans for the day that involves a whole lot of nothing. River’s animated, chatting about his parents. We agree it’s best to stay away from Kel and Ace for a little longer, but one of his other parents or his sister Ikara sounds like a good choice.
* * *
Stepping out of my chambers, we walk across the large dragon emblem that’s embedded into the floor. It’s the Warlord’s emblem that’s existed for thousands of years. It matches the Warlord’s tattoo on my chest, which I hold high as I strut into the open space where dragons are milling about. I’m getting used to the variety of looks I get from them.
Many are afraid of me and that part I understand after my little show the other day, but some gaze upon me with reverence before falling to their knees and reciting the Warlord’s prayer. Unlike with the dragon lord, I don’t have to dismiss them. They usually say the prayer and then move about their business.
There was a lot more bowing and praying when I first arrived and now it’s less. River explained that everyone would have wanted to pledge their allegiance to me, but that the frequency with which they feel they need to do so would vary. Some believe there’s real magic in the prayer and that the simple act gives them some kind of protection.
Hence, at first, I didn’t get the opportunity to observe them beyond all the praying. Now, I get to see more of dragon life.
We walk past yet another fountain on our way up the winding hallways intent on visiting Ikara today by River’s suggestion.
“Usually, she’s in the east gardens with her mother,” he’d said.
I’m aware of his presence beside me as much as I am my own, but I’m getting better at deciphering the pieces that are me and the ones that are him. It’s something I’ve been having to sift through as we separate. Separating is the best way I can explain it. It’s as if the bond melted down two candles, mixed us together, and made one candle from us.
Figuring out where I end, and he begins is important so that I can feel and know him. It’s an odd sensation. It feels like pushing yourself away. Like ripping off your own skin. It’s not intuitive, at least for me. River doesn’t seem to have any trouble feeling what’s me and what’s him. He’s able to read me most of the time.
The magic of the bond is in my head, chanting like a fucking brat for me to touch him. Just touch him.Touch him, touch him, touch him.
I growl, yes at myself—or maybe the bond—and I’m not watching where I’m going. Two dragons tumble out of nowhere and almost barrel into River’s legs. Considering how agile I know he is; he might not have been paying attention either.
It’s a great excuse to lay my hands on him. I yank his jacket, pulling him to my body, but the relief is short-lived. The miscreants brawl before us, still without realizing who they almost bowled over. They’re trying to rip each other apart, using teeth and fists. There’s blood and vicious snarling.
River isn’t bothered by the tussle, but I’m going to step in before they kill each other. I don’t get the chance. The dark-haired one has the light-haired one pinned. “I told you not to talk to her.”
He growls and pushes on the other one’s chest. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. I’ll be more careful in the future.”
That ends the squabble or fight or almost murder. My dragon senses have an acute awareness of the blood the light-haired one wipes off his lips.
The dark-haired one stands and extends his hand to help the other off the ground. They pat each other on the back. “Oh, um, hey there, Warlord.”
River’s in my arms and lucky for them, I’m a lot fucking calmer with him stuck to me. “What’s going on?”
“Apologies. We were sorting something out.”
“You looked like you were trying to kill each other,” I say, allowing my hands to skate across River’s scalp while pretending—to myself—that I don’t know what I’m doing, which is taking a greedy fill of him so that I can make it the rest of the day without touching him. The bond will be pleased and will leave me the fuck alone.
The dark-haired one shrugs. “I suppose it could happen, but we were only arguing.”
“Sorry if we got in your way, Warlord,” the light-haired one says.
They walk off and I have to finally admit to myself that I’m mauling my omega and let him go. “That’s how dragons argue?” I ask, turning his chin up so that I can see his pretty eyes.
He blinks. “Yes, Warlord. It varies, but it can get worse than that. Often a third party has to step in.”
Huh. Us dragons are a bit volatile, I guess. Though I can’t help but notice my lack of anger. It’s because I’m holding River, isn’t it? I might have to admit that there’s something to dragons bonding. But today is not that day.
