Page 32 of Ren: Warlord Brides
He watched Pashaal frown and discard several cards.
Dovak appeared bored, moving cards around in his hand, before discarding several.
Cards were tossed. New ones dealt. Ren took a risk and was rewarded with a blue and green gem card. Eventually, Pashaal folded, signaling an end to the game.
Ren displayed his cards, confident in the strength of his gem pairs.
“A full gem hoard.” Dovak spread his cards on the table. “Which beats your inconsequential pair of gems.”
Emmarae made a defeated noise.
Impossible. He cheated, fair and with an equilateral four-sided polygon, to borrow the Terran idiom.
“I win a lovely contract for a lovely Terran.” The male leered at Emmarae.
Ren stood abruptly, knocking the chair to the floor. He grabbed the male by the front of his robe and pulled him across the table. “You will not prevent me from taking my mate.”
“If you want her contract, you can win it in the ring.”
Chapter 7
Ren
The preposterous male wanted to fight.
“Do you desire death? There are easier ways,” he replied.
“What are you doing? You’ll kill him,” Emmarae protested.
Ren huffed, tempted to end the male just to keep him from touching his mate.His mate.He glanced at Emmarae, her face pale and her hands clenched like she was holding herself back from clawing at Ren.
Why did she care about this male? What was he to her?
Dovak raised his chin, decorative chains tinkling like music. “Scared?”
Ren scoffed.
Ah. This male was nothing. She had a compassionate heart.
“Such childish tactics did not work when I was a youth,” Ren said, “and they will not work now. But you should consider if it is agreeable to your health to fight a Mahdfel warrior.”
Dovak’s gaze swept over Ren. “If you’re a Mahdfel, I’ll cut off my horns.”
“That would improve your appearance.” Ren removed his uncomfortable jacket and unbuttoned the shirt.
Dovak stared at the tattoos. “What are you? I mean, yes, you’re ripped, but did you get body mods for this Mahdfel fantasy?”
“I question your intelligence,” Ren said. He would hurt this male, enjoy it, and perhaps feel remorseful for injuring a fool.
He looked about the common area. “How concerned are you, Pashaal, about your furnishing?”
“Very,” the female answered. “Take this to a combat arena on the station.”
“Very well.” Dovak snapped his fingers at Emmarae. “Come.”
Ren growled. No one ordered his mate about.
Emmarae blinked. “Oh, you mean me? You think you can snap your fingers and I’m, what, your trained dog? Gonna run to master?”
