Page 39 of Claimed By the Drakarn Warrior Lord

I felt the coil of pleasure building within me, tightening, intensifying with each pass of his cock, until it was a living thing, humming with unbearable tension just beneath my skin. His lips found mine again, the kiss fierce, possessive, a primal claiming that left no room for doubt. I met his urgency with equal fervor, my body moving in perfect syncwith his, meeting every thrust with a desperate hunger that bordered on madness.

The coil inside me snapped, and a cry tore from my throat, swallowed by the intensity of his kiss. My inner muscles clenched around him, milking his cock as wave after wave of mind-shattering pleasure crashed over me, pulling me under. He groaned, his hips stuttering, his movements becoming ragged as he followed me over the precipice, his seed pulsing into me in hot, rhythmic bursts. We clung to each other, our bodies slick with sweat, trembling with the aftershocks of our shared climax, the heat of our skin melded together, our hearts hammering in unison.

The silence that followed was profound, grounding. I lay nestled against him, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek a reassuring anchor—breathing, alive,real. My fingers traced the warmth of his scaled abdomen absently, the soft glow from the crystal formations painting us in flickering firelight.

Darrokar’s arm lay possessively across my waist, his long tail draped loosely over the edge of the platform. His warmth enveloped me, and for a fleeting, precious moment, the restless storm in my mind finally quieted.

“I’ve spent my wholelife trying to do everything on my own,” I said quietly, the words a soft crack in the stillness. His claws, tracing lazy patterns on my arm, paused briefly.

“You do not have to anymore.” His voice was low, molten with a certainty that resonated deep within me, stealing my breath.

“I’m scared,” I whispered, pressing my forehead against his chest, unsure if I wanted him to acknowledge the vulnerability or pretend he hadn’t heard. Admitting fear was a luxury I rarely afforded myself—not openly, not even internally. But there, cocooned in his warmth, the words spilled out, unchecked. “Scared of what I’ll become if I let this … letus… take me. I’m afraid of losing control.”

His wing shifted then, wrapping around me like a shield, and his lips brushed against my temple, the lingering warmth sending a wave of sensation rippling through me. The cavern air smelled of heat, of sweat, of him—so distinctly Drakarn, so undeniably Darrokar.

“You will not lose yourself,” he murmured, his voice fierce yet achingly gentle, as if I were as fragile as I was flawed. “If you are afraid, then I will carry that fear as my own, just as I will carry any burden that challenges you. Your strength is your own, Terra, but it belongs to me now as well.”

Something wrenched in my chest then, not the sharp sting of shame or the friction of anger, but a quiet shift, a slow surrender. A gradual loosening of tension I hadn’t even realized I’d been carrying.

I didn’t respond, the sudden weight of his words a heavy lump in my throat. But I felt his hand tighten against my back, his warmth a tangible reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere, and the frantic rhythm of my pulse began to slow. Quietly, perhaps with more desperation than I intended, I pressed my fingers against his warm abdomen and closed my eyes.

This place, this life, wasn’t the plan. But I’d take the alien beside me over any plan I’d ever imagined.

And I’d thank fate every night I slept in his arms.

SEVENTEEN

RATH

The burning in my chest felt like I’d swallowed a piece of the lava that runs through this cursed planet. It wasn’t the ache of a battle wound, or the sharp stab of betrayal. No, this was different.

Fucked up, even by my standards.

It clawed, not at my flesh, but at the very core of me, a hollow ache that echoed, a desperate need that whispered,her.

I could still taste the subtle sweetness in the air, faint but undeniable. The scent I had caught in the battle against those damnedkervash, now tinged with something else.

It wasn't just a scent. It was an invasion that was tearing through my carefully constructed wall of self-control. My internal fires seemed to burnhotter, threatening to set my ruby scales ablaze. I had left, stomped through protocol and practically begged information from healers like a fledgling but got nothing. Then I'd snarled and still got nothing, but she was there.

I knew it in my blood.

My claws scraped against the stone walls as I pushed open the oversized door of the healer’s cavern. It was always too bright in there, the heat crystals pulsating an irritating light that made my scales itch. The scent of crushed herbs and scented oils filled my nostrils, a sickly sweet smell that normally did nothing, but now, it was layered with something else,herscent that I had tracked through the air, even faint.

My wings twitched with an energy I couldn't place—part anticipation, part rage at the waiting.

“Rath!” The sharp voice of the Mysha cut through the thick air. Her golden scales flickered as she turned, her yellow slit pupils narrowed in annoyance. She was old, ancient even, her voice edged with an authority that only age and skill could grant. Most of my warriors flinched under her gaze.

Even I felt a prickle of unease.

“What in the twin suns do you think you’re doing? This is a place of healing, not the war council.”Her tone was clipped, practical. She never failed to remind me I was a walking, breathing inferno.

“I need to see the humans.” My tone was low, a rumble in my chest. My need to get closer toherburned so hot that I only managed to maintain a modicum of civility.

She huffed, a sound like pressurized steam venting. "For what purpose? They are all various levels of heat sick and need to recover."

“It's important. Council business.” I was on the war council. It was my business. A technical truth, but the words felt like lies. “One of them had purple in her hair.”

Mysha's head tilted back, amusement flickered inside her dark eyes, as though I had just told a rather poor joke. “They are half-dead from the heat and covered in enough dust and sand to choke adranith.” She gestured with a clawed hand towards the rows of beds carved into the rock walls, each occupied by a listless human. “None of them is in any shape to speak to the council. They are being medically contained.”

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