Page 95 of The Dragon Warlord
He didn’t fight me, but the situation is so convoluted that my litmus test doesn’t bring me the clarity I thought it would. River is naturally submissive. He’d do anything for me, even allow my stupidity so that I won’t go crazy.
Except I am going crazy despite everyone’s best efforts.
Perhaps I need a new litmus test.
* * *
After three months of living at The Tower again, it’s scary how comfortably I slot back into life here. Mostly. I don’t miss our family in Mortouge less. I miss them fucking terribly. My only solace is knowing they are frozen in time to me, and we’ll pick up almost where we left off. My son with Alrik, Luken, will be born.
At least I have lots to distract me here and a whole other life. I’ve missed my army too and being with them is a birthright I can’t deny. I crave having a sword in my hand, almost as much as I crave the sweet-smelling omega that wears my bite.
I also get the chance to finally make River my second. Officially. He has been unofficially for some time. I bestow the name I’ve been fondly calling him for some time: Omega Kanes. It’s the name everyone will refer to him from now on.
I’ve also managed to completely fuck up the bond between River and me, a seemingly special talent of mine. It’s never been perfect—though what bond is?—but now it’s off the charts wild as if the bond has taken it upon itself to ensure that I don’t lose River via my own stupidity.
If not for the bond, I may have lost him by now. Though if it wasn’t for the bond, there would be no issue. Gah!
As he approaches, I smell him. I have a heightened awareness of his scent these days, and I’m drawn to him like a dragon to honey. My cock wakes up, thickening in my trousers. I’m sweaty and gross from doing drills for the past eight hours, but the strong scent of hard work as I fucked into him would be magnificent.
Turning to face my omega, I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
River is slick with sweat too. Small bleeding cuts and bruises mar the perfect canvas of his chest, a chest I can see because he’s not wearing a shirt. How long has he been like this? How did I miss it happening?
It doesn’t help my cock’s dilemma; it only encourages all the depraved ideas it has helped me come up with in the last hour. All of them end with me bending River over in front of everyone and fucking him against one of these unnaturally large trees for all to see so that they know he’s mine.
As if they don’t.
“Are you injured, Omega?” I give him the benefit of the doubt.
“No, Alpha. Just hot.” I catch the undercurrent of challenge in his words. It’s not nearly what it would be if I’d said it, but it’s there nonetheless.
“Maybe you’ve forgotten your place then, is that it?” I snarl.
He shrugs. “No one’s ever made a rule about it.” He says “no one” as if some random batch of alphas make rules for him and not just me. More challenge.
Has he been possessed?
I rack my brain for that because, surely, I have made a rule. With horror, I realize that I haven’t. It wasn’t required because River responded to needs of mine that I didn’t know I was having, which was nice, but it wasn’t right. That’s not how it’s supposed to work. The alpha makes the rules, and the omega follows them. It’s not simple brutality. An omega needs the rules to feel taken care of. Wants them.
Alrik doesn’t care for everyone looking at me on the training fields either. He says it’s where I’m most beautiful. I fought the rule when he made it, but in the end, I felt cherished, and it led to some great sex.
It takes all the willpower I have to push my alpha instincts to the side and prove to myself that I possess some self-control when it comes to my omega.
Unless the little imp is provoking a display?
Fine. But we’ll do it my way.
Sliding my hand up the back of his head, I dig my fingers into his scalp and twist his neck so that my bite mark is exposed to me. I don’t bite him yet, building anticipation as I unlace his trousers and pull the back down to expose his bare arse for the dragon clan, proceeding to spank him loud and hard so that everyone understands that I know how to discipline my omega when he’s a cheeky little brat.
Especially, River.
He pants and gasps in my long Elven ear, which wiggles for him, and he even cries out for a few of the sharper smacks. When I’m done, satisfied that his arse is glowing as red as my jacket, I sink my teeth into his neck.
I was angry when I woke up to discover what I’d done to River. Genuinely angry. At least, one part of me was. The dragon always lurked in the background, and he was fine with it. It was his instincts that were called to bite River in the first place.
The longer I live with dragons, as a dragon, the more I understand what it means to be a dragon from a guttural level. A dragon knows who his mate is.
I’m all dragon now. My dragon heart beats for River and when I bite him, I get a wave of a memory. Not a visual one. Just a sensory experience of having done this for the first time.
