Page 80 of The Dragon Warlord
I think I’m on the other side of this wretched place, Warlord. I must have inadvertently walked through a portal or a black hole. I don’t know.
But then … I can hear you. Gods, this is … Riv? I love this.
We’re so lucky, Alpha. Be careful. The place is a maze of magic.
Fuck their maze. I’m coming for you, Omega. Stay put. May the Gods keep you safe when I can’t.
* * *
Istay put, sitting, and leaning against the walls that hemorrhage muddy mucus. Aside from already being drenched in the stuff, I’m knackered beyond caring about more filth. Time must be passing. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell one minute from the next down here.
Something flashes across my vision. Green. My nostrils fill with the putrid stench that should hold meaning for me, but it doesn’t. Too tired. So tired. My eyelids flutter closed. I think I hear clanging, but I must be dreaming. Trying to pry my eyes open is impossible. They’re heavy as sandbags. I fight the inertia, succeeding for fractions of a second, maybe catching a glimpse of black hair whipping as the acrid bit of smoke accosts my nostrils, but then, blackness.
I’m lifted and whoever’s got me is the best place in the world. I could die right here, molded against them.
“I didn’t give you permission to die, Omega. Wake up before I’m forced to punish you.”
There’s a crisp breeze as my hair flaps against my face. The air smells better, in fact, I’m inundated with Tristan’s scent all around me and realize that I’m wrapped around him with my face buried in his neck.
“You came for me,” I whisper still unable to open my eyes or move my limbs with any acuity.
“I will always come for you,” he murmurs. Then he laughs. “Gods, did I just fulfill every omega’s dream to have their alpha charming rescue them?”
“Yeah, kinda.”
“Finally. It’s usually you saving my arse.”
That’s not remotely true, but instead of answering, I yawn.
“Sleep, Omega. So long as you are not dead, you may sleep.”
* * *
The next time I wake up, we’re no longer moving. I’m firmly against the Warlord’s barrel chest and he’s humming a tune in Elvish, combing his thick fingers through my hair.
“It worked,” he says. “He’s waking up.”
Blinking my eyes open, I look up into the Warlord’s sapphire gaze. When I try to sit up, he squeezes me to him. “Not just yet. You’re not out of the woods and even if you were just … no.”
I’m fine with that. I’d stay here forever. “What happened?”
“I think we figured out how they capture dragons. They’re disgusting creatures, but they have some sophisticated forms of magic. You’d think they’d use their powers to stop their slime problem. Yuck. Once we’re back, I’m taking a nice long bath.”
The sleeping dragon comes into view, and I realize that’s what the Warlord is leaning against. “You did it, Warlord. We saved the ice dragon.”
“I didn’t do much, just massacred a horde of beasts and tore apart a slime-filled fortress for you, Omega. Does that earn your favor?”
He had my favor long ago. I squeeze him instead of answering.
“If you two could refrain from your disgusting sap for long enough for me to get this off.”
Ikara is on the sleeping dragon who doesn’t seem bothered that she’s poking around his neck.
Wait a minute, we’re not just out of the fortress, but out of the Wastelands. “Did I miss flying, Warlord?” I don’t mean to sound as dejected as I do.
“I’m sorry. You did and I’m afraid this is the end of the line. We’ll portal home from here now that you’re awake. Ikara, any luck?”
She hops off the dragon and heads toward us. “Afraid not. Father will have to deal with this.”
