Page 71 of The Dragon Warlord
“My omega needs me,” Tristan states, using his Warlord voice as if it will have any effect on Brock. “He’s nearly dead and needs sleep.”
“Make the fire. Make it expand to that tree line just near where River is, and you can go.” He crosses his arms, which some might say is a Top’s way of stating the final word.
Tristan glares. He glances at me again. Brock picks up on what has Tristan’s attention. Me. I’m distracting him without meaning to. I catch the flash in Brock’s eyes, only a hair of a second before he moves. Shite. Does he have a death wish? He is one of Father’s husbands, I suppose I should expect this sort of thing by now.
He bolts toward me. Brock is an ancient wizard proficient in many levels of magic. There’s no telling what he could do, but it’s clear how he wants Tristan to stop him. We are immune to dragon’s fire, but he isn’t, which means he’s literally playing with fire.
Tristan pulls his sword and breaks into a run directly after him. I could get up, I suppose, but I’m too tired and I know Brock won’t hurt me … too much. I’m willing to risk whatever he’ll do so that I don’t have to move. Besides, if it helps him help Tristan, I’m for that. I stay put.
Brock lazily sends a blast of air toward Tristan, maintaining his top speed. Tristan uses his sword to deflect the blast, but it knocks him on his arse and puts distance between us and him. With a wild cry, Tristan thrusts his sword in a deadly arc toward Brock who laughs as he dodges the blade without breaking a sweat.
“Fuck me,” Tristan says. “Riv, run!” he shouts.
Dammit. I’m not going to ignore an order like that, but I only make it to my feet when I’m taken down by another stupid fucking bout of itching. It’s like a thousand fire ants are nipping at the flesh of my torso.
“Gods dammit!” Tristan yells.
After that, there’s a growl that echoes off the mountains and then a roar of flames that consumes the entire field for miles in all directions. Brock should be wizard roast, but he’s made it up a tree and since the fire hasn’t climbed up the tree, I assume he’s done some kind of something to prevent it.
I’ve stopped itching by this point, but now I’m lying in hot flames that are licking up my clothing. Thank the Gods my jacket is fire repellent or I’m about to be naked and so will Tristan.
He emerges before me like a wraith, his sapphire eyes are set to kill, and I get my wish to see him as feral as the day we met. My heart pitter-patters and my cock swells. He’s retrieved his sword and the vision of him standing over top of me, his clothes on fire, brandishing his sword like that is one I’m already planning to wank to later.
Tristan crouches before me and closes my jacket to suffocate the flames. He does the same to his jacket before he sheathes his sword in the scabbard on his back and scoops me up so that I have to put my arms around his neck.
With him like this, his alphaness raging, it triggers my omega instincts such that they can’t be ignored and I’m rubbing my face in his neck, scenting him before I can stop myself. There’s immediate relief for both of us. We reclaim what we denied ourselves earlier.
My dragon purrs.Alpha.
He hasn’t been able to hear me yet through our connection, but I can hear him.
Tristan carries me out of the flames, leaving Brock behind. He’ll have to find his own way out of the fire.
* * *
It’s no surprise when his teeth sink into the bite on my neck. We’re in his war room and he’s sat me on the giant table that is also a map. I lose myself in the euphoria it is to be bitten. Tears squeeze from my eyes. No matter what foolish things we do, we’ll always have the bite to bring us back.
There’s a squelch when he pulls his dragon teeth from my neck. He uses his tongue to take the blood with him.
“Mine,” he says.
“Yours,” I agree.
“What the fuck is wrong with him?”
He means Brock.
“It worked, Alpha. You produced more fire than I’ve ever seen.” To expand like that takes a lot of energy from a dragon’s heart.
“It was easy once I thought he was going to hurt you. He wouldn’t have hurt you; or would he?”
“Probably a little.”
“Why are you grinning ear-to-ear? That shouldn’t make you happy,” he says, combing my wild hair back with his fingers.
“I love being protected by you, Alpha. Obviously, I can protect myself when I need to, but I like when you do it,” I admit.
A knock at the door comes too soon. They are always too soon. It’s Ikara. Tristan’s barely got the “come in” out of his mouth and she’s rushing in.
