Page 49 of The Warlord's Secret Heir

“You threaten what’s mine,” I snarl, “you lose everything.”

Then I walk away.

Crowd roars. Fists pound the walls. My name echoes louder than the storm winds outside.

I barely hear them.

Because she’s here.

Jaela pushes through the crowd like a hurricane in boots—hair wild, face flushed, eyes sharp as broken glass.

“What the hell was that?” she yells over the noise.

“I handled it.”

“Youfought a manover me?”

“He threatened you.”

“I didn’taskfor a champion, Kyldak!”

“You didn’thaveto.”

She plants both hands on my chest, pushing hard. Blood smears on her fingers.

“You’re bleeding.”

I grab her wrists. “I’ve bled worse.”

She yanks free. “That’s not the damn point.”

“You’re inmyworld now. This is how I keep order.”

“You mean by cracking skulls and swinging your dick around like it’s law?”

The crowd falls to silence.

My head tilts. “If you’re jealous, you can always ride it.”

Gasps. Laughter. Someone whistles.

She slaps me.

Hard.

My head whips to the side, blood from my brow splattering the sand.

I grab her.

She doesn’t fight.

Shelaunches herself into melike a missile, mouth crashing into mine with teeth and fire and fury. I kiss her back like it’s war, like it’s forgiveness, like it’s the last goddamn thing keeping me alive.

She moans.

I growl.

The crowd explodes.