Page 122 of The Dragon Warlord

As his dick’s deflating, I collapse on my back, pulling him with me so that he’s lying on top and my own come sticks to my body as his leaks from my arse.

“That was … fuck. Just when I think it can’t get better …”

“It gets even better,” I say, finishing his sentence. Using my thumb and forefinger, I angle his lips to mine. “I fucked up today.”

He laughs. “What did you say to Father?”

That’s the only time I was without him today. “I was worried about us because I’m stuck to you. I was worried it would get so bad that we wouldn’t get anything done. Now, I’m wondering why that was a bad thing.”

“Because we have an army to run, Alpha.”

“Did you just say we?” He nods into my chest. It wasn’t a mistake then. “Riv, I love that. Fucking love that.”

“I can’t say stuff like that outside of us though, Tristan.”

I kiss his forehead. “I know. The rules here are stupid.”

“They’re for good reason. Dragons know hierarchy. It’s in our blood.”

“I know. I get it for everyone else, except for when it comes to you.”

“So, what did you do?” He raises a brow of his own as if I’m going to be the one in trouble.

My heart races. “We’re moving in with your parents for a month. Excited?”

He bursts into hysterical laughter. “I don’t mind, but I know you will. Um, will we still get to…?”

“Have all the sex? Yes. It was unfortunately part of the conversation. You’re not mad?”

He sighs. “I know you won’t like this, but no, I don’t get mad at you, Tristan. Maybe frustrated at times,” he admits.

“I dunno, maybe that’s one of the perks to this. I’m usually mad enough for the pair of us. How about annoyed? You annoyed about the temporary move?”

“No.” He traces his fingers over the lines of my tattoo. “I know it’s cliché, but I don’t give a fuck if we’re together in the mud, the stinking Wastelands, dark caves, or ice-cold Mortouge. Thewepart is the only thing that matters to me.”

Yeah, he was fucking cold in Mortouge.

The tenderness of his statement swells in my belly like warm dragon fire. “That’s sweet, Riv. Same. I don’t remember life before you. I never want to remember life before you.”

* * *

We’re barely over the threshold of the dragon lord’s suites and he’s already on us. “Take your boots off. I won’t have you two mucking up the place with those—River, you know better—and you can get up off the floor, Omega, we’re going to set some new rules.”

Joy.

Getting up, I look around. I haven’t been up here since the last time we were at The Tower, but it doesn’t look to have changed much. His suite is three stories. A bit like a mini tower within The Tower. It’s constructed of the same pearl stone as the rest of the place, but the décor has a lot more gold and red. There are tall windows to let in the sun. It’s a bright and airy space.

River and I remove our boots and stand before him. He’s dressed, casually. Blue trousers with a white poet’s blouse. The shirt is open, and I can see the tattoo he usually keeps hidden. His dragon. I have a matching one on my hip to show that I’m his.

“First of all, you’re late,” he says.

I thought the first of all was the thing about the boots? “Practice ran late. I’d think you would want us to prioritize looking after what protects The Tower, no?”

“This is just as important. Here by dinner and not a second later. I won’t presume to punish your omega, but I would prefer it if you did. You’ll be getting five lashes for your tardiness.”

The handing out of punishment settles with the squirminess it always does in my belly. “Yes, Alpha.”

“Don’t make any evening plans. You won’t be granted permission.”