Page 21 of Naga Warlord's Mate

“Merely an alliance,” Zarlok’s tongue flicked out between words. “A mutually beneficial arrangement between our people.”

Priscilla’s stomach churned. She’d heard those exact words before, from the mouth of a man who’d kept her in chains. Her gaze met Andear’s, and something passed between them—a shared understanding of the danger lurking beneath the surface.

The Xirath’s promises continued to flow like honey, sweet and sticky and impossible to escape once caught. But Priscilla saw through it, just as she felt Andear’s growing rage radiating next to her. The way his muscles coiled beneath his scales, the dangerous glint in his eyes—he was a warrior sensing an approaching battle.

When Zarlok mentioned “cultural exchange programs,” Priscilla noticed how his gaze lingered on her for a fraction too long. Beside her, Andear’s low growl vibrated through the air, too quiet for others to hear but clear enough to make her pulse quicken.

Her skin prickled as Zarlok’s obsidian eyes dissected her like she was a specimen under glass. The familiar sensation of being evaluated, appraised, made her throat tighten. She unconsciously shifted closer to Andear, drawn to his radiating heat and solid presence.

The movement wasn’t lost on anyone. Zarlok’s thin lips curved into a knowing smile while Andear’s massive frame seemed to expand, his scales darkening to deep crimson. The protective energy rolling off him was almost tangible.

“Esteemed council…” Zarlok’s voice cut through the chamber’s tension. “Perhaps we can reach an arrangement that benefits all parties.” He gestured expansively with one scaled hand. “In exchange for allowing us to establish our base on your outer moon, the Xirath Dominion will provide Nirum with unrestricted access to our quantum drive technology, military resources, and medical facilities.”

The council members exchanged interested glances. One of them leaned forward. “And trade routes?”

“Full access,” Zarlok purred. “Your merchants would have protected passage through all Xirath-controlled territories.”

Priscilla’s stomach clenched. She knew that tone. Reasonable. Accommodating. Deadly.

Beside her, Andear’s tail lashed once, the only outward sign of his rage. His massive hand gripped the ceremonial blade at his hip, his knuckles white with restraint.

Zarlok’s gaze slid back to Priscilla, calculating. “We would also be willing to share our expertise in... human relations. After all, we have extensive experience managing their unique needs.”

The words hung in the air like poison. Priscilla felt the phantom weight of chains around her wrists, remembering all too well what “management” meant. She forced herself to breathe steadily, though her heart hammered.

A deep rumble vibrated through Andear’s chest and Priscilla felt it in her bones. His presence at her side was both comfort and fortress, though she hadn’t asked for either.

Priscilla watched the council members lean forward eagerly in their seats, their eyes gleaming with interest at Zarlok’s promises. Her stomach twisted. The marble floor beneath her feet felt cold, even through her shoes, reminding her of concrete cells and iron bars.

Next to her, Andear radiated fury. His scales had darkened to obsidian, a sure sign of his rage. His tail lashed once, twice, the movement barely controlled.

“This is an invasion disguised as diplomacy,” he muttered, his voice barely detectable.

Priscilla’s nails bit into her palms as she clenched her fists. The Xirath’s words about “managing human needs” echoed in her mind, bringing back memories of her slavery. Of being “managed” until her spirit nearly broke. Her throat closed up at the thought of other humans suffering the same fate.

One of the council members—an older Niri with faded green scales—nodded eagerly at Zarlok’s mention of fertility treatments. “Our population has struggled with conception rates. Your medical expertise would be invaluable.”

Priscilla felt bile rise in her throat. She knew exactly what kind of “medical expertise” the Xirath offered. Images of human women being used as brood mares flashed through her mind. She wouldn’t let it happen here.

Andear shifted slightly, his body blocking more of her from Zarlok’s view. The protective gesture made her heart skip, even as her mind raced through possibilities. There had to be a way to make the council see the truth behind these honeyed promises.

Zarlok’s forked tongue flicked out as he smiled, his obsidian eyes falling on Priscilla again. He leered at her like a wolf sizing up his next meal.

Chapter 11

Andear

Andear’stailcoiledtighterbeneath him as Priscilla’s voice suddenly cut through the council’s chamber.

“You speak of medical advancement, but what you really want is to turn Nirum into a breeding ground for humans.”

The council’s chamber fell silent. Andear’s scales rippled with tension as he watched her—his fierce little human, standing before the most powerful beings on Nirum with fire in her eyes. His protective instincts screamed at him, but he remained still, transfixed.

“I lived under beings like you.” Priscilla’s chin lifted. “Different planet, same lies. Same promises of progress while you chain us in darkness.”

Zarlok’s eyes narrowed. The air grew thick with danger, but Priscilla didn’t flinch. The mate bond pulsed with her determination and rage.

“Your fertility treatments?” She gestured to the green-scaled council member. “They’ll come at the cost of human women’s freedom. I’ve seen it before. First, it’s ‘voluntary surrogates.’ Then it becomes mandatory ‘service to the empire.’”

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