Page 89 of The Dragon Warlord

“River.”

“River?”

“River?”

“Huh? What?”

“You’re staring at the Warlord,” Ikara says.

Fuck, am I? Yeah, I am. It’s hard not to. He’s large. He’s commanding. He’s trying to talk General Sharpe out of the last honeydragon apple for me.

I’ll never admit to ogling him. We’re in the large new Mess Hall, the one Tristan all but demanded that Father have built for his warriors. Tristan had something like it in Markaytia. Father said no at first because he usually does, but of course, he built it for him. Tristan doesn’t think he gets whatever he wants from his alpha, but he does. Eventually. Father can’t give in right away or Tristan will be too sure of his standing with him. Can’t have that.

I’m seated at one of the long wooden tables with a pint of honey mead, licking my wounds. Underneath my clothes, I’m bruised to shite. Thank the Gods for my armored jacket or I’d be mashed potatoes. I used the last of my energy to heal the damage to my face so that the Warlord didn’t have to see me in a brutalized post-battle state.

“Just keeping an eye, in case my alpha needs something. What’s up?”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. You two don’t fool anyone. I came to tell you something. You’re about to go far away on a mission for our father dearest.”

“What else is new? Are you running out of visions such that you’re running around stating the obvious to people now ?” She punches me in the arm. “Ikara. The Warlord isn’t going to like that.”

“I stand by that punch. Stuff happens to you on the field all the time so he can get over that too.”

Completely avoiding touch on the field is impossible and the Warlord has been forced to adapt. Some things, he still can’t handle, and there are times he reaches a limit. We’ve found what our current level of comfort is, and we move with it. Still, it should be generally avoided.

I glare at her. I love my sister, but sometimes she’s just my annoying sibling.

“Anyway, I thought you’d be excited because if you make it back here that’s when you should tell him. It’ll be the right time.”

“Tell him what?” I snap. I’ve had enough of her nonsense. Some of her sight has caused a lot of trouble for Tristan and me over the years. Sure, everything turned out in the end, but more often than not, I’m wrought with anxiety when she relays something she’s seen in her seer waters.

His scent takes me by surprise, which means Ikara succeeded in riling my blood and distracting me. He squeezes himself onto the long bench against my side, not leaving any space between us.

“Hello, Ikara,” he says, but he’s looking at me as if he just caught the sun. He presents me with the apple. “I got it.”

I don’t bother to hide my glee as I take the proffered apple.

“You’ve been talking about sinking your teeth into a honeydragon apple since midday. I felt your heartbreak when she took the last one.”

It kinda did. I was craving one of these and there wasn’t one to be found in The Tower this morning. I was hoping the Mess Hall would have a few left. “Thank you, Warlord.” I beam at him and plunge my dragon teeth into the crisp apple with a satisfying crunch.

“I didn’t know it was possible for you two to get more disgusting and you have always been sickeningly disgusting.”

“Ikara punched me,” I say, ratting her out while I offer the apple to the Warlord for a bite. These ones are his favorite.

“Ikara,” he scolds as he leans his face toward the apple to take a chunk with his large incisors. Watching him eat a fucking apple is more erotic than it's supposed to be and my skin tingles with all the galvanizing current simmering between us.

“He deserved it,” she says.

“I can’t imagine that. River’s the best-behaved omega in all of Dragon Land.”

“For you.”

Tristan shrugs. “I couldn’t give a fuck who else he behaves for.”

My alpha is a brat through and through. He takes great pleasure in seeing me do something that he can’t. His alpha expects a lot more from him.

She shakes her head. “Anyway, I’ll be going. You two have ruined mating bonds for me, by the way.”