Page 62 of The Dragon Warlord
This is exactly why I can’t let my mind go to other places with River. My bond with River is finally manageable. Five-years-ago Tristan wouldn’t call the current state of our lives anywhere near normal, but we’ve had to adapt and adjust our definition of normal, or else we’d be miserable.
We’ve learned that what we do can piss the bond magic off and so we’re careful to keep as we are to stay within this manageable state. So, River is just River. My omega. My best friend. My other left hand.
Fucking mine.
I don’t think about my primal dragon urge to claim him on my cock.
There are various members of the Council at this dinner. Ikara isn’t one of them. It appears that only drinks have been served—which I can’t take part in any way—and that we haven’t missed the first course. The room has frozen and there are audible hushed sounds of horror at our dreadful appearance.
I itch to drop to my knees. Both knees. It takes all my willpower to resist. Instead, I bend the knee as River does before the dragon lord. Once the dragon lord felt he’d sufficiently made his point and that “my place” was officially known, he’d eased off on all the special bowing with the exception of discipline so that we could make it a ritual.
“Up, up,” he says as if he’s annoyed that we’re bowing even though we all know we would have heard about it if we hadn’t bowed before His Royal Dragonness.
Feeling a bit giddy in his presence, I pull out the empty seat next to him and plant myself in it. My headache is already receding, and I predict that my healthy appetite will make a full recovery. He doesn’t seem too angry about our tardiness. We have a good excuse, but there are no excuses good enough for the dragon lord. When he demands that you do something, he expects it done exactly as he’s demanded.
“Please carry on. Serve the food,” he commands.
The dinner guests resume their idle chatter, and it gives the dragon lord the semi-privacy he needs to quietly ream me out. “It is too much to ask for you to be on time?”
I scoop up the goblet in front of me, sniff it to make sure that it’s water, and take a hefty sip. “No comment on the blood?”
He smirks. “That I approve of. It’s good for the Council to be reminded about how fearsome their Warlord is.”
“Sometimes I fear that I’m just a piece of hot Warlord meat to you, Alpha, paraded about for show.”
Humor is my only vice with the dragon lord who enjoys being amused though I’m told he gives me leeway that he doesn’t give to his other dragon subjects. It’s not much in the way of liberties considering how hard he is on me. No one debates that he’s hard on me.
“You’re in need of a spanking.”
I am, but if he thinks I’ll ever admit that out loud, he doesn’t know me at all. I will tone my cheekiness down. He won’t hesitate to throw me over his knee in front of all these people and I’d rather have privacy.
“Missed you too, Alpha.” I’m only a little sarcastic, surreptitiously offering my neck to him not sure that I want to, compelled to do so all the same.
Finally, he favors me with the brush of his thumb over the bite mark on my neck. His bite mark. I’m near to fucking purring. Allowing myself to close my eyes for a heartbeat is a guilty pleasure I indulge in and blame him for. It didn’t start like this, at least not the parts I remember. From what he’s hinted at, I don’t want to know the parts that I forget.
It’s all I need for now, thank the Gods and the good spirits too. If it were River and me, much more would be required. Our bond might be the most demanding one in existence.
Dinner progresses and annoyance seeps in. I didn’t have to be here for this. It’s yet another boring Council dinner in which the dragon lord shows off how wonderfully his pet behaves. I’m forced to regale them with tales of our latest conquest, fresh from the field. It’s a social event rather than an official meeting so there isn’t much business about other than a conversation I hear to my right about a surplus of honey. That doesn’t sound like a bad problem to have.
River indulges in the honey mead and by the third course, he’s the best entertainment of the night, telling Lady Felicia all about how hideous hydra demons are.
“Needed to unwind, Riv?” I say during the dessert portion of the evening.
“A bit, Warlord. This hunt was stressful,” he admits.
“It was?” The stress goes without saying I suppose, but that he’s said it makes me wonder if I’ve missed something.
“I didn’t want the dragon lord to punish you,” he whispers, the ale strong on his breath.
“That is inevitable, Omega.” Resting my hand on his neck, I comfort him with a brush of my bite on his flesh. He hates watching me punished but feels he should be there for support. I could bar him from attending, but I won’t. I want him to have as many choices as possible since so many are taken from him because of me. “Don’t worry about me anymore tonight. Enjoy yourself.”
I signal for the person serving this event to fill his chalice.
I do my part to be a good Warlord. As Father often reminded me, Warlording isn’t just about stabbing things with swords, however, I have my limits. When the meal is over, I request leave for me and my delightfully drunk omega.
The dragon lord doesn’t give it. “I want a moment of your time, Warlord,” he says as if any of my time is mine. It’s all his—he’s made that clear.
As I wait for the guests to file out, I check on River who’s animatedly waving goodbye to Lady Felicia. She’s unsure as to whether she should be so friendly with the Warlord’s omega. I nod from behind him to give my permission.
