Page 32 of The Dragon Warlord

He’s beautiful and he’s mine and I’m proud to be his.

“Stupidity, Warlord. Utter stupidity,” he admits. “Besides the bite, you haven’t marked him. I misunderstood that to mean you didn’t want him.”

The Warlord moves so fast, Ace isn’t ready for him. He ends up locked by his hair in Tristan’s grip with a sword under his chin. “Do you doubt my claim on him now?”

“N-No, Warlord.”

My heart races. I’m certain that my alpha is about to execute my brother. This would not be considered murder. The Warlord has almost as much power as the dragon lord with regard to the public. He can’t change the laws, but there’s little else he’s forbidden from doing and that includes who lives and who dies.

“On your knees,” Tristan says.

Ace drops to his knees, prostrating before the dragon Warlord.

I can taste the threat in the air and the beautiful violence pouring off Tristan. For a brief moment, one that’s just between us, his sapphire gaze catches mine.

You should be capable of danger, but that doesn’t mean you should use it unless absolutely necessary.

I swear I hear his voice in my head. They’re my words in his voice.

He steps around my brother who’s still kneeling on the floor to address the crowd with his sword still in hand. “In case it isn’t clear, River Kanes ismyomega. No one touches him. Not a hair. Spread the word because I am going to choose mercy this time, but I may not be inclined to such generosity next time.” No one says a word. “Everyone on their knees.”

All dragons bow before the dragon Warlord. “Say it. All of you. I want to hear the Warlord’s prayer and then I want you to repeat for me what you’re going to tell every person in this bloody tower.”

On their knees, they recite the prayer. They vow never to touch me. I doubt they’ll look at me after this.

“Rise,” he says. “And, Ace? I don’t want to see you breathe near River for the next fortnight, am I clear?”

“Yes, Warlord.”

Before anyone can leave, the dragon lord makes his presence known, snapping his fingers to let his white fur cape bleed over him out of nowhere so it can drag along the floor behind him as the other dragons drop back to their knees, including me.

I know what he’s doing. He’d never miss the opportunity to confirm the Warlord’s place. His place with the people and his place with him. It’s a test for Tristan as well. How far has he come since they began their training? How much discipline does Tristan need tonight?

With his rage coursing as it was, Tristan missed that he was in the presence of his alpha this whole time and the question on his face is definitely worry over whether he’ll be penalized for that. Tristan drops to one knee, his sword gripped in his left hand and bows his head. “To what do we owe the pleasure, my lord?”

Check one, Tristan’s greeted him properly. Father smiles. “Kneel for me, Omega.” Anyone can see he’s filled with mischief. He’s going to push Tristan to his limits and have fun doing it.

Tristan’s jaw is tight, but he complies, showing the crowd what a perfectly trained omega he is for his alpha.

“Well done, Omega.” Father addresses the crowd. “You have a strong and merciful Warlord. Never forget that. All of you are dismissed. Not you, Omega,” he adds when Tristan tries to stand.

Tristan eyes him warily but remains knelt before him. In some ways the dragon lord is predictable, but when he wears the mask like he’s got on now, it’s impossible to tell what will come out of his mouth.

“I’m proud of you, pet,” he says, running his hand through the dark locks. Tristan shivers. “You are excused from discipline tonight since you’ve shown exemplary control, foresight, and leadership.”

Tristan’s an easy read, he’s sure this is a prank. “Th-Thank you, Alpha.”

As Father glides away from us, Tristan is up in an instant and over to me, helping me stand from the kneeling position I was in for Father. He doesn’t wait for me to collect my balance, scooping me bridal style in his arms.

He doesn’t make it past the hallway on the first landing as we head up the stairs before he has to set me down. “Sorry, Riv. I don’t want to let you go just now, but I’m tuckered.” He laughs. “What an adventure just for some herbs.”

“My life was never like this before,” I proclaim, recalling his wild soap-opera-theatre-style life.

“Did you just tease me?” I’m getting better at reading him. He’s not mad. He likes that I’ve teased him.

“Only a little, Warlord,” I say, following him up the second flight of stairs toward the floor where our chambers are. “You’ve got to admit, trouble seems to follow you.”

I wait until we’re back to his rooms, and while I’m mixing his herb concoction for the pain, I tell him. “I think I heard your voice in my head. It’s possible we’re going to have a mind connection.”