Page 25 of Naga Warlord’s Mate (Nagas of Nirum #3)
Andear
Through the reinforced viewing window of the command bay, Andear watched the stars blur past as his warship cut through space. His powerful tail coiled beneath him, his muscles tense with anticipation. The silence felt wrong—too peaceful for what lay ahead.
His gaze shifted to Priscilla. She stood beside him, gripping her weapon with white knuckles, her jaw set in determination. The sight of her in battle gear made his chest tighten. The mate bond urged him to wrap his tail around her and shield her from what was coming.
“Your grip is too tight,” he said. “You’ll tire faster that way.”
Priscilla’s fingers loosened slightly. “I know how to hold a weapon now. You made sure of that.”
His lips curved into a slight smirk. “Yet you still leave your left side open.”
“Only to draw them in.” She met his gaze, challenge sparking in her green eyes.
A warrior approached with a tactical update. “Warlord, we’ve detected Xirath forces mobilizing on the surface. They’re setting up defensive positions around their landing sites.”
Andear’s tail flicked sharply. “They move fast for invaders who claim to come in peace.” He studied the holographic display, marking the enemy positions. His warriors waited for his command, their scaled bodies tense with anticipation.
The mate bond surged as Priscilla stepped closer. The scent of her—honey and steel—made his scales tighten. She shouldn’t be here. She should be safe in his den, far from the coming bloodshed. But he had learned the hard way that she would never stay behind.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she said, not taking her eyes off the tactical display. “I earned my place here.”
Andear’s tail curled around her ankle possessively. “Yes. You did.” The words came out rough. He couldn’t deny her strength any more than he could deny the pull between them.
Through the window, their target moon grew larger. Its cratered surface bore the scars of previous conflicts but none like what was coming. Andear’s eyes narrowed. The Xirath would learn what it meant to threaten what was his… Priscilla and Nirum.
The ship’s hull groaned as they pierced the moon’s atmosphere, metal straining against gravitational forces. Andear’s tail coiled around the support beam, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding below. The Xirath had already established their position—neat rows of soldiers in gleaming armor, their energy cannons casting an eerie purple glow across the cratered surface.
“Ready the drop shields,” he commanded, his voice carrying over the ship’s rumble. His warriors moved with practiced precision, checking their gear one final time. The scent of ozone and heated metal filled the air, mixing with the sharp tang of anticipation.
His gaze found Priscilla, her blonde hair tucked beneath protective gear and her movements sure despite the ship’s violent descent. The mate bond pulsated between them, making his scales ripple with the need to protect her. But she had proven herself worthy of standing among his warriors.
“Remember all of your training,” he told her, his tail unconsciously shifting closer. “Stay in formation.”
She checked her weapon’s charge, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. “Worried, warlord?”
“About you? Always.” His voice dropped lower. “But not about your ability to fight.”
The ship stabilized at drop altitude, hovering just above the moon’s surface. Through the viewing port, Andear could see the Xirath soldiers shifting, their weapons charging. His blood sang with the promise of battle, his scales darkening with aggression.
“Warriors of Nirum,” he called out, his voice carrying the weight of command. “Today we remind the Xirath why our world has never fallen to invasion.”
His warriors responded with a collective growl, weapons humming to life. Andear’s tail uncoiled from the support beam as he moved to the drop bay doors. Priscilla took her position beside him, her presence both comforting and concerning. He would have to trust her to hold her own—she had certainly proven herself capable of that.
The bay doors opened with a hydraulic hiss, revealing the battlefield below. Wind whipped through the chamber, carrying the acrid smell of charged weapons and alien technology. Andear’s muscles tensed, ready for the drop.
“For Nirum,” he growled, and launched himself into the air.
Andear’s tail propelled him, his blade singing as it cleaved through Xirath armor. The acrid stench of plasma fire filled his nostrils, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. His warriors fought with precision, but his attention kept returning to one figure moving through the fray.
Priscilla ducked under a plasma blast, her movements fluid like water. The training showed in every strike and every dodge. His chest swelled with pride even as the mate bond wanted him to protect her. She spun, her blade finding gaps in Xirath armor that even his experienced warriors missed.
“Your left, warrior!” he called out as a Xirath soldier charged her. Priscilla pivoted instantly, her blade catching the alien’s throat in a move he’d taught her. Blood sprayed across her armor, but she didn’t flinch.
The mate bond surged as a massive Xirath captain emerged behind her, its energy blade humming. Andear’s scales darkened with rage. His tail coiled and launched him forward, covering the distance in a heartbeat. His blade struck true, separating the Xirath’s head from its shoulders before it could touch what was his.
Priscilla whirled at the sound, her eyes widening briefly before narrowing. “I saw him coming.”
“Did you now?” Andear’s tail swept a fallen weapon aside as he positioned himself at her back. The bond thrummed between them, making his scales ripple. “That’s why you were still facing the other direction?”
She dispatched another soldier with a precise thrust. “I was getting to it.”
His blade caught an incoming plasma bolt, deflecting it back at the shooter. “Of course you were.” His voice was rough with pride and possession. She fought like a true warrior now, but she was still his to protect.
A fresh wave of Xirath soldiers pressed forward, their armor gleaming under the harsh battlefield lights. Andear’s tail coiled tighter. The battle was far from over, but with Priscilla at his back, he had never felt more alive.
Andear’s tail propelled him through another devastating strike, his blade cleaving through Xirath armor. Through the heat of battle, his gaze found Priscilla again. Their eyes met across the blood-soaked battlefield, and the mate bond surged within him, fierce and demanding. You are mine to protect, he thought, watching her dance through combat with lethal grace.
But as she dispatched another Xirath soldier with perfect form, he realized something that made his scales ripple with pride and frustration. She didn’t need his protection anymore. Before him stood a warrior who moved like death itself, each strike precise, each dodge calculated.
“Getting slow, warlord?” Priscilla called out as she spun past him, her blade finding a gap in a Xirath captain’s armor. Blood streaked across her face, but she didn’t even blink.
His tail coiled with possessive energy. “Teaching you to be faster was clearly a mistake.”
Around them, the tide of battle shifted. His warriors pressed forward, their coordinated attacks pushing the Xirath lines back. The enemy’s formations began to crack under the relentless Niri assault. Victory’s scent filled the air, sharp and sweet.
A Xirath soldier charged Priscilla from behind. Before Andear could move, she dropped and rolled, coming up inside the alien’s guard. Her blade found its mark under the chin, where the armor was weakest. The move was perfect. He had taught her that one himself in a private training session.
“I saw that look,” she said, falling back into position beside him. “Stop acting surprised every time I kill something.”
His tail swept a fallen weapon aside as he positioned himself closer to her—not because she needed it but because the mate bond demanded it. “I’m not surprised.” His voice rumbled with pride and possession. “I’m thoroughly impressed.”
The battle raged on, but now Andear fought alongside someone who matched him strike for strike. His mate. His warrior. His equal.
Andear felt Priscilla tense against his back, her muscles going rigid. The mate bond flared with warning, making his scales ripple with protective fury. Through the clamor of battle, his gaze followed hers to the shadows between two fallen ships.
There stood Zarlok, his scaled face illuminated by the eerie glow of plasma fire. The Xirath leader’s eyes fixed on Priscilla with such calculated hunger that Andear’s tail coiled with rage. He recognized that look. It was how predators eyed their prey before they pounced.
“Stay close,” Andear growled. The mate bond roared at him to strike, to tear Zarlok apart for daring to look at his mate that way.
“I’m not hiding,” Priscilla said, but her voice carried an edge he rarely heard. Her grip on her weapon tightened until her knuckles went white.
Zarlok’s thin lips curved into a cold smile. His forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air—tasting her scent. Andear’s scales darkened with fury as the Xirath leader’s gaze traveled over Priscilla’s form with murderous intent.
“Such spirit.” Zarlok’s voice carried across the battlefield, smooth as poison. “You would have fetched a high price in the breeding markets.”
Andear’s tail lashed violently, scattering debris. The mere suggestion made his blood boil over. “Look at her again,” he snarled, “and I will tear out your eyes.”
Zarlok’s smile only widened, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. “The mighty Warlord Andear, brought low by a human pet. How disappointing.” His cold gaze never left Priscilla. “Though I must admit, she is... exceptional.”
The mate bond surged within Andear, demanding blood now. His muscles coiled, ready to strike, but Priscilla’s hand on his arm stopped him. She knew as well as he did that charging Zarlok now would leave them exposed to his guards.
“I am no one’s pet,” Priscilla spat, her voice carrying steel. “And you’re a fool if you think I’m afraid of you.”