Page 13 of Naga General’s Mate (Nagas of Nirum #2)

Mila

The scent of spiced tea and warm bread wafted through the dimly lit service corridor of Ellri’s hotel. Mila’s steps echoed against worn floorboards as she led Brivul toward the front desk, her heart still racing from their narrow escape.

“Ellri?” Her voice cracked.

A stooped figure emerged from behind stacks of paper ledgers. Ellri’s weathered face broke into a broad smile, her silver hair catching the light of old-fashioned oil lamps.

“Mila, dear!” Ellri’s eyes widened at Mila’s bruised face. “What happened to you?”

“Kurg.” The name tasted like poison on her tongue. “He found out I—” She glanced at Brivul, swallowing the truth about the data chip. “He tried to kill me. Brivul saved my life.”

Ellri’s gaze shifted to Brivul, measuring him with shrewd calculation. “A Niri protector. Interesting.”

“We need somewhere to hide.” Mila touched the worn desk, her fingers tracing the wood. How many times had she dreamed of reaching this sanctuary? “Just for a little while.”

“Of course you’ll stay.” Ellri reached across the desk, her papery hands clasping Mila’s. “That monster won’t find you here.”

Relief flooded through Mila’s chest. She’d gambled everything on Ellri’s loyalty, on years of shared secrets and small kindnesses.

“Thank you.” The words felt inadequate.

“Don’t thank me yet.” Ellri pulled out a thick registry book. “Kurg’s people have been sniffing around these parts. We’ll need to be careful about where we put you.”

Mila’s stomach clenched. She hadn’t considered that Kurg’s influence might reach even here. A warm pressure against her back made her start. Brivul moved closer, his presence oddly reassuring.

“We can handle careful.” His deep voice resonated through her bones.

Ellri’s knowing smile made Mila’s cheeks heat. “I’m sure you can. Now, let me think where to place you two…”

Ellri led them up creaking stairs to a hidden corner of the hotel. The room she unlocked took Mila’s breath away. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and a massive four-poster bed dominated the space. One bed. Heat crept up her neck.

“The shower’s through there.” Ellri pointed to an ornate door. “No one will find you here.”

Once Ellri left the room, Mila headed through the ornate door to freshen up. Soon, the hot water of the shower washed away days of grime and fear from Mila’s skin. Steam curled around her as she stepped out, wrapping herself in the softest towel she’d ever touched. Her muscles finally relaxed, though her bruises still ached.

“Your turn.” She emerged fully dressed from the bathroom to find Brivul waiting.

Mila busied herself combing out her wet hair, trying not to think about sharing that single bed. The bathroom door clicked open.

Her comb clattered to the floor.

Brivul remained coiled in the doorway, water droplets trailing down his bare chest. The towel rode low on his hips, showing off carved muscle that rippled with each movement. The blue scales on his arms caught the lamplight, gleaming like precious metal. A drop of water traced down his abdomen, drawing her gaze lower…

“Sorry.” His deep voice snapped her back to reality. “I forgot my clothes.”

Mila spun around, her face burning. “It’s fine.” Her voice came out higher than intended.

The rustle of fabric behind her sent shivers through her. She shouldn’t have reacted this way. She barely knew him.

“You can turn around now.”

She did, relieved and oddly disappointed to find him fully dressed. The memory of those water droplets on his skin lingered, making her pulse race. What was wrong with her? They were running for their lives, and here she was acting like some lovesick fool.

A knock at the door made Mila jump.

“Who’s there?” Brivul asked through the door.

“It’s me,” Ellri said softly through the other side of the door.

Brivul slowly opened the door. Ellri bustled in with a tray laden with steaming dishes that made Mila’s mouth water. The rich aroma of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the room.

“Eat up, dears. You both look famished.”

The door clicked shut behind Ellri, leaving them alone with enough food for four people. Mila’s stomach growled at the sight of glazed vegetables and some kind of cream sauce she’d only seen served to Kurg’s special guests.

“I think she’s trying to fatten us up.” Brivul settled his long form beside the small table.

“You could use it. All muscle can’t be healthy.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Heat crept up her cheeks.

His violet eyes sparkled. “Been noticing my muscles, have you?”

“Hard not to when you parade around half-naked.” She stabbed a piece of meat with more force than necessary.

“I didn’t hear any complaints.” His expression held no malice, just warmth and something that made her pulse quicken.

“The food’s getting cold,” she muttered, focusing on her plate.

“It’s delicious.” He took a bite of bread. “Almost as sweet as your blushing.”

“I don’t blush.” But her cheeks burned hotter.

“No? Must be the lighting then.”

Their eyes met across the table. His lips curved into a smile that did dangerous things to her insides. She should look away. But his gaze held her captive.

“You have sauce on your chin.” His voice dropped lower.

“Where?” Her hand flew up.

“Other side.” He leaned forward, reaching across the table. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, lingering a moment too long. “Got it.”

The simple touch sent electricity through her veins. She grabbed her cup, needing something to do with her hands. The spiced tea scalded her tongue, but she welcomed the distraction.

This was madness. He’d saved her life, yes, but that didn’t mean she should trust him with her heart. Even if his smile made her forget how to breathe.

Mila set down her empty cup, savoring the last hints of the rich meal. Her muscles ached less now, wrapped in the comfort of good food and relative safety.

“We should get some rest.” Brivul gathered their plates. “I’ll take the floor.”

“The floor?” The massive bed could easily fit three people. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I insist.” He pulled extra blankets from the wardrobe. “I’ve slept in worse places during my time as a general.”

The casual mention caught her attention. “General?”

His shoulders tensed as he arranged the blankets. “Yes, on Nirum.”

“Did something happen?”

“A civilian transport. Pirates.” Pain etched across his features. “We thought we had them cornered. My team was exceptional. We forced the pirates to land.”

The blankets forgotten, he stared into the distance. “The fight moved to the ground. We were winning. Then…” His fists clenched. “One of their ships launched a missile. Hit the civilian transport. All those people…”

Mila’s chest tightened at the raw anguish in his voice. This explained so much—his protective instincts, his willingness to help her.

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I was their general. Their safety was my responsibility.” He shook his head. “I resigned the next day. Couldn’t bear to wear the uniform anymore.”

“Is that why you came to Jorvla and took a job at the clinic?”

“Seemed fitting. A failed protector guarding a shady clinic.” His bitter laugh held no humor. “At least until I met you.”

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. She watched him settle onto his makeshift bed, struck by how much trust he’d just shown her. Maybe she wasn’t the only one learning to open up.

The dim lamplight cast shadows across his face. Her heart ached at his self-loathing. This warrior who’d risked everything to save her saw himself as a failure?

“You’re wrong, you know.” Her voice came out softer than intended. “About being a failed protector.”

His eyes met hers, questioning.

“Look what you did for me.” The words tumbled out, fueled by the need to chase that darkness from his expression. “That’s not failure. That’s exactly what a true warrior would do.”

“Mila—”

“No, listen. You might not wear a general’s uniform anymore, but that nobility, that need to protect—it’s still there. I see it every time you look at me.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks at that admission, but she pressed on. “You’re still every bit the warrior you were before. Maybe even more so because now you’re fighting for what you believe in, not just following orders.”

The change in his expression stole her breath. His features softened, replaced by something warmer, more vulnerable. He sat up straighter, some of that military bearing returning to his posture.

“Thank you.” His deep voice wrapped around her like a caress. “I needed to hear that.”