Page 1 of Daring the Drakarn Warrior Lord
1
TERRA
The clangof training blades rang in my ears.
My muscles burned. Sweat dripped down my spine, soaking through the thin shirt I wore. But I didn't stop moving. Couldn't stop. Not when Darrokar circled me like this, wings half-spread, golden eyes tracking every shift of my weight.
I lunged.
He parried, the screech of metal on metal singing through the cavern. The impact jarred up my arms, but I used the momentum, spinning away before his tail could sweep my legs. The heat crystals overhead cast everything in shades of fire and shadow, turning the smooth patches of floor into mirrors of light.
"Better," he said, voice rough. "But predictable."
I bared my teeth. "Then stop me."
He moved.
God, he was fast for someone his size. Seven feet of scaled muscle and lethal grace, closing the distance before I could blink. I brought my blade up, angling it to redirect rather than meet his strength head-on. The training sword was blunted, but still heavy as hell and it slid along his with a shriek that made my ears ring.
Then his free hand caught my wrist.
I twisted, using a joint lock I'd drilled a thousand times, but his grip was iron. Scaled, heated iron that sent sparks racing up my arm. Not pain. Something else entirely. Something that made my breath hitch even as I drove my knee toward his midsection.
He blocked with his thigh, and suddenly we were grappling, blades forgotten as we fought for position. His chest pressed against mine, and I could feel every breath he took, every rumble building in his throat. The scent of him, smoke and stone andmineflooded my senses.
I hooked my foot behind his ankle and shoved.
It almost worked.
Almost.
But then his wings flared, balance perfect, and he turned the momentum against me. The world spun. My back hit the floor, firm enough to knock the air from my lungs. His weight followed, pinning me, one hand catching both my wrists and pressing them above my head.
"Yield," he growled.
I bucked against him, testing his hold. Solid. Unmoving. Heat radiated from every point of contact, seeping through my clothes, into my skin. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I couldn't tell if it was from exertion or the way he was looking at me.
Like he wanted to devour me.
"Make me," I said.
His eyes flashed. The hand not restraining my wrists slid down my side, claws catching on fabric. Not tearing. Not yet. Just a promise of what those talons could do.
"Careful what you demand,luvae."
The endearment wove around me tight. Low and possessive, wrapped in that gravelly tone that made my stomach clench. Ishould have been thinking tactically, looking for an escape, a reversal. Instead, all I could focus on was the press of his hips against mine, the way his scales felt against my overheated skin.
"I'm not afraid of you," I said, and it was true. I'd never been afraid of him. Not even in the beginning.
"I know." His head dipped, breath hot against my throat. "That's the problem."
Then his mouth was on my neck, fangs grazing the sensitive skin there. Not biting. Just pressure, just the threat of it, and a sound escaped me that was definitely not tactical.
Screw it.
I arched into him, and his grip on my wrists tightened. The rumble in his chest deepened, vibrating through me. His tongue, long and clever and absolutely sinful, traced the line of my pulse, and I felt the exact moment his control started to fray.
"Terra." My name sounded wrecked. "We’re supposed to?—"
