Page 10 of Naga General's Mate

But his instincts refused to accept it. They demanded he track her, claim her, protect her. The way she’d stood up to that vendor with quiet strength only proved what a worthy mate she’d be.

“Enough.” He pressed his claws against the clinic’s outer wall, leaving shallow grooves in the metal.

He didn’t even know which household owned her. Didn’t know if he’d ever see her again in this sprawling city. The thought sent another wave of possessive anger through him, but he forced it down.

Some battles couldn’t be won. He’d learned that lesson the hard way.

Chapter 5

Mila

Mila clutched her heavybasket closer, its contents shifting against her hip as she padded down the dusty street. The sun beat down on her neck, but she barely noticed the heat. Her thoughts kept drifting back to those violet eyes.

“Get it together,” she muttered, adjusting her grip on the basket. “He’s just another Niri.”

A Niri who’d stood up for her. Who’d haggled with that leering vendor without expecting anything in return. The memory of his deep voice sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.

The evidence chip pressed against her other hip through the pocket in her dress. That was what mattered right now. Not some handsome security guard with kind eyes.

“Focus on what’s important.” Her voice came out shakier than intended.

She turned the corner and picked up her pace toward Kurg’s compound. Yet as she strode down the road, her thoughts wouldn’t stop drifting back to Brivul. How his scales had gleamed in the sunlight. The way he moved, so fluid and powerful… No. She couldn’t afford to think about him. Not with Priscilla’s safety hanging by a thread. Not with stolen data burning a hole in her pocket.

But his gentle touch when their hands had brushed…

“Stop it,” she hissed, forcing her feet to keep moving forward. “You’re not some lovesick teenager.”

The market crowd thinned as she approached the compound’s sector. Soon she’d need to put on her invisible mask again. Head down, eyes lowered, spirit crushed—everything the perfect slave should be.

So why couldn’t she stop thinking about how he’d looked at her like she was worth something?

The kitchen’s familiar warmth enveloped Mila as she pushed through the service entrance. Steam rose from copper pots on the stove, carrying the scent of tonight’s dinner preparations.

Priscilla’s face lit up at her entrance. “Did you get the spices?”

“Everything on the list.” Mila set her basket on the worn wooden counter. “Even managed to get fresh herbs.”

“Show me.” Priscilla’s fingers danced over the purchases, sorting them into neat piles. “Oh, these basil leaves are perfect.”

The evidence chip weighed heavier than ever in Mila’s pocket as she watched her sister’s enthusiasm. The council would surely reward someone exposing corruption—maybe even with freedom papers. But if Kurg discovered who had betrayed him…

“You’re quiet today.” Priscilla muttered, interrupting Mila’s thoughts. “Something happen at the market?”

“Just tired from carrying that basket.” The lie tasted bitter. “These need to go in the cold storage.”

“I’ll take the meat down. You handle the spice cabinet?”

The sisters worked in silence, their movements a well-practiced dance around each other in the cramped space. Every clink of jars being arranged reminded Mila of the chip. Every step across the stone floor echoed with possibilities and dangers.

“Remember when we used to play hide and seek down here?” Priscilla’s voice drifted up from the storage cellar.

“Until that time you knocked over an entire shelf of preserves.”

“Worth it, though. Your face when you found me…”

The memory of her sister’s giggles twisted something in Mila’s chest. One wrong move, and she’d never hear that sound again. But staying silent meant staying slaves forever.

“Did you hear about Tenna?” Priscilla emerged from the cellar. “They sold her yesterday. Just like that, gone.”

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