Page 129 of The Dragon Warlord

“Yes, we do. Do not come home until you find what I need, or I’ll have all of you whipped. You’ll go last so that you can watch your warriors writhe and scream before it’s your turn,” the dragon lord says.

He’s fed up with me and I’m fed up with him.

“Not everyone. You don’t have my permission to touch River,” I sneer. It’s the wrong attitude to have with my alpha and aggravated dragon lord, but I’m too miserable to care right now. I’ve only ensured that I’ll see the wrong end of his whip regardless.

Too angry to respond, he breaks the connection, and the blank whiteness falls away, the background of the rainy forest taking its place. No, not rain, fucking downpour. I have never liked the travel part of traveling. Storming back to camp, I compete with the thunder for intensity. One hand rests on the hilt of my sword, letting the dragon magic from within the blade sizzle through my veins.

At camp, I find River attempting to dig a tent pole from the mud by hand. He’s a slick ball of mud, his hair plastered to his face. His jacket is tossed to the side, getting rained on. His slippery hands can’t catch on the pole to hold it steady enough.

Sauntering over, I stand before him as others try to help without purposefully touching him. As our bond settles a little more and a little more—fucking finally—I’m able to tolerate some closeness on the field. I don’t love it, but I can allow it for good reason, and I hope the bond continues to settle along this line for River’s sake.

“What the bloody fuck is going on?” I growl, seized by my terrible mood, but have the wherewithal to admire that he’s still hot as fuck even as a mud man. Perfect. Now my dick is hard without the hope of relief. Maybe I’ll take him here. It won’t solve any of my problems, but at least I’ll feel better. “Did everyone forget how to use magic?”

“No, Warlord. You’ve been gone for some time. Collapsing tents are just one on our growing list of problems.”

Time works differently in the mountains than when we’re in that mind palace thing of the dragon lord’s for too long. It’s like we’re moving slower and things out here move faster. I stood through a long lecture before he promised me doom and then did the magical equivalent of slamming the door in my face.

“No one’s magic is working, is yours?” River asks. He tries to wipe the mud off his brow with a mud-soaked forearm, which only smears the mud around.

“I was just speaking with the dragon lord.” But that would have been his magic and he’s not here.

That kind of connection doesn’t seem to be affected, Alpha,he says through our connection to demonstrate.

“Let me try.” I reach out with my dragon magic first, but it’s like trying to walk across ice in slippers and I can’t grip anything. “Hmmm, I wonder…”

Because I’ve been keen to master dragon magic, I’ve barely used Elven, but thankfully Zelphar drilled so many lessons into my thick skull that they are second nature to me. I might even thank him if this works. With great effort, I’m able to raise the pole, but the mud is too soft for it to stay upright, and embarking on this further is a fool’s errand since I can’t stop the rain from falling. I don’t have enough left in me to do so for the entire camp anyway and now we’re stuck in this storm.

Everyone looks to me for solutions I don’t have. I’m the Warlord, I’m supposed to have all the answers.

What would my father do?

“I know we’re tired, but we have to keep moving. Let’s see if we can find better ground or enough cover to rest under for the night. Pack everything up and let’s move out.”

I might be able to set up a few large tents we can huddle under if there’s any fucking ground dry enough to hold tent poles sturdy. That’s a normal if annoying problem to have. The no magic thing is concerning.

Then, because I can’t help myself and because I don’t have to help myself, I grab River’s face in one hand and pull his lips to mine. He softens, anticipating the deep kiss. I kiss him till we’re both a panting mess.

In The Tower, we keep to a certain decorum that I made up and thought we should have. But on the field, anything goes. We’re too animal when we’re riled as dragon warriors, and we need to be. I let my dragon have free rein.

River fucking loves it. He’s not much better and I end up with a lot of bite marks from those beautiful sharp pearls of his.

Rubbing noses with him, I put my lips to his ear. “Love you, mud man.”

He laughs. “Love you too, my savage romantic. Thought someone was going to lose a head for sure.”

My mood is still in the trenches but kissing him makes up for at least half of it. “The day is still young. Any idea why the dragon magic’s gone out?”

“Not a clue.”

“I’ll consult with Phari then. Put your jacket on.”

I was looking forward to cuddling around River at the end of a long arse day, but that’s not going to happen, and I’ll be running on even less sleep. I find Phari on the perimeter of where our camp was. The rugged wizard is worse for wear, exhaustion plain on his face, but he’s also determined.

“Anything of interest?” I call to him over the storm. Thunder rolls and relentless rain pounds against our faces. At least it’s warm rain. Rain is all the more miserable when it’s cold.

“Yes. I think we’re being hunted.” He has to pitch his voice over the din.

“Hunted? By what?”