Page 15 of Claimed By the Drakarn Warrior Lord

“Clever,” he rumbled, flicking my arm aside with a calculated twist. He moved in a blur, pinning both of my wrists above my head in a vice grip that made my fingers go numb. With one hand, he immobilized me completely, his other trailing the torn edge of my garment. “But clever won’t save you.”

I thrashed against him, my breathing ragged as I pushed against his hold, but his strength was absolute, each attempt to get free like throwing myself against a wall of volcanic rock. Panic threatened to bubble to the surface, but I shoved it down, my mind racing for an opening.

He lowered his face toward mine, his fangs glinting faintly in the dim light. His breath was hot against my cheek, carrying the metallic tang of battle. “So fragile,” he murmured, as though the revelation mystified him. His claws flexed slightly around my wrists, his intent a dark, coiling promise. “And yet your fire … intoxicating.”

Every nerve in my body screamed for action—for escape—but I was out of options. My muscles strained against the weight of him, fury and desperation coursing through me like a fever. His golden eyes glimmered with cruel amusement, drunk with the power imbalance.

“You will yield,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, low and insidious.

“No,” I spat, defiance laced into every fiber of my being. I didn’t care if I couldn’t win—I refused to let this bastard think he could break me. My teeth clenched in determination as I drove my knee into his stomach again. This time, he caught it with his own thigh, absorbing the impact fully. Shit.

He chuckled low, the sound vibrating through my bones. “Fight all you like, little one?—”

His words ended in a choked gasp as something massive collided with him from above—a blur of obsidian scales and crimson eyes.

Darrokar.

SEVEN

DARROKAR

Her scent hit me and everything else—the noise of the city, the heat of the air, the weight of duty—blurred into nothing but static.

Burning, intoxicating,mine.

The metallic tang of fear laced with the innate heat of her essence twisted through the corridor, jolting through my veins like a spark setting dry kindling ablaze. My claws flexed as I swooped down.

Every sense turned razor-sharp, every instinct narrowing down to a singular truth: someone had dared touch what was mine.

The crackle of my wings carried me forward, each beat concise, lethal. I didn’t need to hear the snarl of a rival or the scrape of claws against stone;the bond searing hot in my chest was enough. The scent of her fear pulling me deeper only hardened my resolve.

When I found him, whoever he was, I wouldn’t leave enough of him behind to even be recognized.

The corridor opened below me, narrow and dim, like the throat of a predator swallowing prey. There she was—my woman. My mate. Pinned, pressed beneath the hulking frame of a fool whose arrogance would cost him his life.

The world stilled. Terra's red hair flashed in the dull glow of the crystals above, her eyes burning with anger even as her frame strained against the brute’s grip. The torn fabric of her robe clung to her curves, a delicate temptation sharpened by the ferocious will radiating from her battered form. She wasn’t broken.

Even now, caught in a moment where lesser creatures would yield, she fought.

I was moving before thought could catch up. My claws raked across the warrior’s back as I descended. The satisfying crunch of impact and the guttural snarl torn from his throat barely registered—he flew forward and away from her like refuse cast aside. His body slammed into the opposite wall with a force that cracked the stone, but it wasn’t enough.

Not nearly enough.

I was on him before he hit the ground, talons biting into his chest as I drove him down. My tail lashed, the sharp end snapping against him like a whip. His hiss of pain fed the storm inside me, an ember igniting into an unquenchable blaze.

“You touch what is mine,” I growled, every word a vow of retribution. “You dare lay your filthy hands on her?”

The coward sputtered nonsense, claws scrambling at my grip, but he was drowning in the tide of my rage.

I struck him again—a clean, direct blow that shattered his jaw and muffled whatever plea he might’ve been foolish enough to voice. Blood spattered hot across the corridor floor, and still, he fought weakly against me, wings flapping once before falling limp.

More. The burning ran deeper than anger, deeper than instinct. This wasn’t just about the affront to me—it was the threat to her. My mate. The risk he'd dared to take, the harm she might've suffered, and worse, the damage he'd already dealt, all fueled the fire ravaging me.

The tip of my claw trailed the hollow of his throat, and for a fraction of a moment, I weighed thebalance of his life. It would be so easy—just a flick of my wrist, a casual slice, and any insult he’d ever dared breathe would vanish in the pool of his own lifeblood.

“Darrokar.”

The steady voice was ice over flame.

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