Page 84 of The Dragon Warlord
“There is you and River, but who is the fourth?”
“That dragon is hidden for now, but I bet you’ll figure it out on your own.”
“Lovely. Have we covered everything?”
“One last thing and then you may return to your army.”
“Yes, Alpha?”
“Come here.”
I climb the steps to his throne until I’m before him and with how high his throne is, all he has to do is reach out to be able to touch the raised skin of the bite on my neck. He ghosts his thumb over it, and I shudder.
“This isn’t just any bite. I bit you when I was a dragon. Something that hasn’t been done in thousands of years. If you ever worry again, Omega, remember that I have already released my temporary hold on the ice dragon. You, on the other hand, I knew I could never release you and so you will remain mine forever.”
* * *
Instead of heading back to the fields, I remain in my war room feeling a bit … fucked up. Being jealous of the ice dragon doesn’t make logical sense, but I know firsthand how much these bonds can manipulate. It’s conscious. It makes decisions based on emotions. It’s why I always have to be cognizant of what’s the bond and what is me … and what’s River.
Things have gotten comfortable between River and me. I thought I understood how to keep the bond happy so that we could function mostly normally. But first, there was my barbaric reaction to River’s simple potential desire for a sexual relationship. Sure, it turned out to be me in the dream, but it brought up a good point, which is that if I’m not planning to have River, then he should get the option of someone else. I can’t ask him to be celibate for me forever.
Or well, by dragon law, I could. A little technicality that crawls to the forefront of my mind, rearing its tyrannical head. It would be easier if I could simply follow dragon laws, but it appears that there is still some Elf—and maybe even some human—left in me. I can’t ask that of him.
Which only leads me down the dark hallways in my brain to a corner of my mind I keep in a chained box guarded by elemental death wolves.
Maybe I could have River.
I’d still have to wait because I’d want to talk to my men first. I know they’re going to be comfortable with what I’ve had to do to appease the bond—they understand demanding magic—and even if I did finally break and take him, they’d understand that too, but the preference would be for us to discuss a new addition.
A small plan was forming in my mind that I’d ask River if he’d be willing to wait until I took care of things at home and if for some wild reason it wasn’t going to be okay with my men, then we could find him a lover.
I’d probably have to be chained in the dungeon under magical guard while he fornicated with this lover. It would be best if I never knew the dragon’s name or scent, but no matter what I had to do, I would force myself to do it for him.
But the chances my men aren’t going to adore River are low. Corrik was getting on pleasantly with Bayaden for the Gods’ sake, and they have been mortal enemies for decades. Considering everything, this was the eventuality I’d been starting to allow myself to open to, especially after Rayne’s crude advice combined with that my little plan wasn’t going so well.
Yeah, okay, Rayne called that one much to my dismay.
I rub my forehead with my fingers. I might be getting another headache.
The logic behind my thinking about River only works if I know that what we’re feeling is true and we’re not being manipulated by the bond. I don’t really care on my end of things, just his. I won’t take advantage of him. I was beginning to think I knew, but this thing with the dragon lord mucks it all up.
Gods. I feel better knowing the dragon lord could never release me, which can’t be right. If he could release me, I’d want him to.
Spending a long time turning all the pieces in my mind, trying to decipher which pieces could tell me definitively which feelings are true or manipulations, I miss the rest of practice. River strides through the door from the gardens, having just come through the portal, and fuck, he smells delightful with all that sweat on him.
He brightens with a hesitant smile, but I note that he keeps his distance on the other side of my desk.
“You in trouble with the dragon lord again?”
That’s a fair question. I’m in trouble with him often enough. “Riv, I’m jealous of the ice dragon.” He already knows. He picked up on it right away.
I swear he mutters the wordshiteunder his breath. “Warlord, it’s normal, I assure you. You’re a dragon. We are hierarchical creatures, and we don’t like when someone usurps a ranking. Even just thinking someone could be usurping a claim you have is enough,” he reminds me. “It doesn’t mean any more than your dragon advocating for what he feels is his by right.”
I nod because I know his words to be true, but I also know that actions, like words, can have more than one meaning. Yet, I can’t bring myself to believe that I could want any kind of claim on the dragon lord.
The ache slams into me as it always does with him standing all the way over there. We’ve been apart all day. Guess the bond wants its assurance. Do I touch him or don’t I? But wait. He’s not making any moves to come nearer to me either. We’re staring at the other, clearly in distress, doing nothing about it.
“I see that you’ve come to a similar conclusion,” I acknowledge.
