Page 15 of Naga General's Mate

“Watch where you’re—”

Brivul’s snarl cut through their complaints. The scales on his arms bristled as he drew himself up to full height, his tail coiling protectively around Mila. The group scattered.

Blood dripped from Mila’s split lip onto his scales. Each crimson drop fueled the murderous rage burning in him. He’d tear Kurg apart for this. Later. First, she needed safety.

The crowds thinned as he entered the industrial sector. Steam hissed from rusted pipes overhead. The acrid smell of chemicals burned his throat. His warrior instincts mapped escape routes as he moved, noting which shadows could provide cover.

Footsteps echoed behind them. Brivul’s muscles tensed. A patrol of Kurg’s guards rounded the corner ahead, plasma rifles raised.

“There!”

Brivul spun into a side alley, shielding Mila with his body as shots sizzled past. His tail swept a stack of crates into the guards’ path. Their curses faded as he sprinted deeper into the maze of warehouses.

Mila whimpered softly, her fingers weakly gripping his shirt. The sound tore at something primal inside him. His mate was hurting. She needed protection. Everything else—his vow, his duty, his past failures—meant nothing compared to that truth.

“I’ve got you.” He pressed his lips to her temple, tasting blood and tears. “No one will touch you again.”

Brivul finally found refuge in the shadows of an abandoned warehouse, its towering walls of corroded metal a fortress against the chaos of the chase. He eased Mila onto a crate once inside, her body a fragile thing in the darkness. The scent of her blood, metallic and warm, mingled with the dampness of the building. Her eyes found his as he tended to her wounds with the same focus he once applied to battlefield triage.

“You’ve only made things worse for me,” she finally murmured, her voice strained with pain yet laced with a fierce resolve that tugged at his core. “Kurg will make an example of me.”

He tore a piece of fabric from his own garment, the ripping sound echoing through the empty warehouse. “I will keep you safe,” he said, his words a solemn vow. “No matter the cost.”

She winced as he dabbed at the cut on her lip, her breath hitching ever so slightly. “Do you remember me?” he asked, his voice but a whisper.

Her gaze softened, a flicker of recognition igniting in her green eyes. “Yes, I remember you,” she admitted softly.

His attraction to her, already potent, intensified. Each touch, each careful examination of her wounds, stoked the fire within him. Her skin, pale and smooth, was a canvas of pain and beauty, a testament to her endurance.

“Good,” he said. His hands, once instruments of war, now gentle as they moved over her.

Brivul’s fingers, deft despite their size, traced the line of Mila’s jaw, his touch as light as a feather. The pad of his thumb gently wiped away the blood from her chin. The heat of her skin seared into his own, the mating bond between them pulsing with an intensity that threatened to consume him.

He was a fugitive now, an outcast by his own choice. The realization settled over him like the darkness of the abandoned warehouse, heavy and unyielding. He had broken his vow of noninterference for her. Yet as he gazed into her eyes, he foundno regret within him, only a fierce determination to keep her safe.

“I am bound by no vow stronger than the one I make to you now,” Brivul declared, his voice a deep resonance that seemed to vibrate through the very air around them.

Mila’s eyes widened and then softened into something tender, something that mirrored the raw need coursing through Brivul’s veins. “You hardly know me,” she whispered, a note of wonder in her voice.

“I know enough,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re in my care now, and I will move the stars themselves to ensure your safety.”

The words hung between them. He was no longer the general who had led countless soldiers into battle nor the security guard who had watched the world pass him by. He was a protector, a guardian, bound by a force far greater than any oath of noninterference.

As he continued to care for her wounds, the warmth of her body beckoned to him, a siren’s call that ignited a flame deep within his core. His senses were awash with her scent, a heady mix of sweat and the sweet undertones of her natural perfume. It was intoxicating, a reminder of the primal connection that bound them.

His gaze dropped to her lips, full and inviting despite the injuries that marred them. The urge to claim her, to brand her as his own, was almost overwhelming. But he would not rush her, not when she had been through so much. She deserved tenderness and patience. She deserved the world.

At that moment, nestled in the protective embrace of the abandoned warehouse, Brivul knew his life had irrevocably changed. He had found his purpose, his reason for being. And he would do whatever it took to ensure that Mila was safe.

Mila’s green eyes, clear and determined despite the bruises, soon locked on to his. “Do you have a plan?” she suddenly asked, her voice a mixture of desperation and resolve.

Brivul’s hand stilled on the makeshift bandage, his mind racing. He had been a general, a master of strategy and tactics, but now, his only plan was to protect her. “My plan is to keep you safe,” he said, his voice rumbling with the weight of his commitment.

Her lips, swollen and cracked, parted in a soft sigh. “That’s not a plan, Brivul. Kurg has eyes and ears everywhere. We need to disappear for a while.”

Brivul hesitated for a moment and then nodded, recognizing the truth in her words. “You’re right,” he admitted. “We’ll need to move carefully, blend into the shadows of this city.”

Her eyes lit up, a spark of hope in their depths. “The underworld of Jorvla is vast and treacherous, but I’ve come to know it well,”she said, her voice gaining strength. “If we can find allies there, we might stand a chance.”

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