Page 40 of Daring the Drakarn Warrior Lord
It was duty. Sacred and necessary. The kind of responsibility that came with my position as Warrior Lord.
But right now, duty felt like chains.
Terra stood in the archway, chest heaving, covered in blood and stone dust and the evidence of every fight she'd survived to reach this place. Her green eyes locked on mine, and the mate-bond ignited between us with enough force to steal my breath.
Pain. Exhaustion. Determination so fierce it burned.
All of it flooded through the connection we shared, mixing with my own horror and pride until I couldn't separate what I felt from what she felt.
She'd actually done it.
Made it through the traps, the obstacles, the warriors who'd tried to stop her. Fought her way to the inner sanctum usingnothing but human stubbornness and the skills I'd taught her myself.
Part of me wanted to roar with pride. Wanted to gather her against my chest and tell her how magnificent she was, how strong, how absolutely insane for attempting this in the first place.
The other part wanted to lock her in our quarters and never let her risk herself like this again.
Neither option was available.
I was the final guardian. She was a competitor. And the blood-flame sat beyond us like the ultimate test.
"Luvae." The word came out rougher than I'd intended.
She didn't respond. Just stared at me with those eyes that had haunted me since the moment I'd first scented her. Blood trickled from a cut above her eyebrow. Her shirt was torn, exposing scratches across her ribs. She favored her left leg, putting more weight on the right.
Injured. Exhausted. Barely standing.
And still looking at me like she had any chance of getting past.
My claws flexed. The sanctum suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. Every instinct I possessed screamed conflicting commands.
Protect her.
Stop her.
Let her pass.
I was Warrior Lord. I had duties. Responsibilities that extended beyond my personal desires.
But I was also her mate. And watching her bleed, watching her struggle to stay upright, it carved something out of my chest that had nothing to do with duty or honor or sacred tradition.
"There is no shame in failing now," I said, keeping my voice level. "You've proven yourself. Made it farther than anyone expected. You can yield with honor."
Her laugh was sharp enough to draw blood. "Can I?"
"Yes."
"And what happens then?" She took a step forward, limping but steady. "I walk out of here with my head held high, knowing I gave it my best effort? Everyone pats me on the back and says how brave I was for trying?"
"Something like that."
"Bullshit." Another step. "You know exactly what happens. I become the human who couldn't finish. Who needed special consideration. Who proved that my kind doesn't belong." Her jaw tightened. "I didn't come this far to quit three meters from the goal."
"You came this far to prove a point. You've done that."
"Not yet, I haven't."
She moved again, angling toward my left side. Testing. Looking for an opening that didn't exist.
