Page 28 of Naga Warlord's Mate

Priscilla backed away, blood trickling down her arm. Her gaze darted between them, calculating angles, looking for openings. She wasn’t just a slave anymore, helpless and afraid. She was a warrior in training—Andear’s student.

The thought of him gave her strength. She wouldn’t die here, not when she’d finally found something worth fighting for.

“Then come teach me a lesson,” she challenged, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet. The staff felt alive in her hands, an extension of her will.

The training center doors suddenly exploded inward with such force that dust rained from the ceiling. Priscilla’s heart leaped at the familiar silhouette filling the doorway—Andear, his large frame radiating lethal intent. His eyes blazed with fury as he took in the scene, focusing first on the blood trickling down her arm and then on the Xirath assassins.

The growl that tore from his throat wasn’t anything close to civilized. It was pure predator. The sound sent shivers down Priscilla’s spine, but not from fear—from the primal recognition that he had come for her.

“You dare?” Andear’s voice was barely recognizable, thick with rage. He moved like liquid death, crossing the room faster than Priscilla’s eyes could track. His claws extended, black and deadly, slicing through the first assassin’s throat before they could even raise their blade. Blood sprayed across the stone floor.

His tail whipped around with devastating force, catching another assassin mid-lunge and sending them crashing into the wall with a sickening crack. The impact left a spider web of fractures in the stone.

“The warlord protects his pet.” The third assassin sneered, but Priscilla heard the tremor in their voice. They knew they were outmatched.

Andear’s answering snarl made the torches flicker. “She is not my pet.” His scales rippled with barely contained violence as he lunged forward. “She is mine.”

The possessive declaration sent heat flooding through Priscilla’s body, even as she registered movement behind her. The second assassin was getting up, blade raised. Without thinking, she spun and swung her staff, catching them across the face. The satisfying crunch of breaking bone rewarded her effort.

“Good,” Andear growled, his approval making her pulse race. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the third assassin, who was now backing toward the window. “Now move aside, little warrior. I will show these vermin what happens when they touch what belongs to me.”

Priscilla’s breath caught in her throat as she watched Andear move. Gone was the controlled warrior who had trained her with such precision. In his place was something ancient and deadly, his movements fluid yet savage. His claws ripped through the second assassin’s armor like it was paper, his black scales rippling with fury.

The third assassin tried to retreat, but Andear’s tail whipped out, catching them by the ankle. The crack of breaking bone echoed through the training center. Priscilla pressed herself against the wall, her heart thundering. She had never seen such raw power, such primal rage.

“Mercy,” the assassin gasped, dropping their blade.

Andear’s laugh was dark and dangerous. “You would have shown her none.” His claws found the assassin’s throat, and blood sprayed across the stone wall.

Then he turned to her, his massive chest heaving with each breath. His golden eyes blazed like the twin suns, his pupils narrowed to predatory slits. Blood dripped from his claws, but his movements were gentle as he approached her. Something inside her recognized him not as a threat, but as safety. As home.

His gaze locked on to the cut on her arm, and a growl rumbled through his chest. He reached for her, and she didn’t flinch as his blood-stained hands cupped her face. His touch was reverent, a stark contrast to the violence she had just witnessed.

“You are mine to protect,” he declared, his voice like thunder rolling through her bones. “And I will burn the stars before I let them take you from me.”

His possessiveness should have frightened her. Instead, it sent heat coursing through her veins. This wasn’t the restraint of their earlier encounter. This was raw, unfiltered truth.

“I fought them,” she whispered, needing him to know she wasn’t helpless. “Like you taught me.”

His thumb traced her lower lip, leaving a smear of blood. “You did. My fierce little warrior.” Pride and something darker colored his words. “But they dared to touch what is mine. They will never touch you again.”

Priscilla’s heart skipped at the word “mine.” She should argue, should remind him that she belonged to no one. But this connection she felt between them made her body sing with a familiar recognition. She was his, just as surely as he was hers.

Chapter 15

Andear

Themetallicstenchofblood filled the training center, mixing with the sharp tang of broken glass and spilled oil from the shattered lanterns. Andear’s scales scraped against broken pottery as his tail swept across the floor surveying the carnage. Every muscle in his body was still coiled tightly with lethal tension. Blood dripped from his claws, each drop echoing in the sudden quiet after the violence.

His tail lashed out as he moved through the wreckage, rage burning through his veins like molten metal. The bodies of the assassins lay broken where they fell, a testament to his savage response when he’d found them trying to take her.

The door creaked open, and Jorek and Krav slithered in, their weapons drawn far too late to be of use. Andear’s eyes narrowed at their approach.

“Warlord, we came as soon as—” Jorek started.

“As soon as the threat was already eliminated,” Andear cut him off, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Where were you?”

“The council meeting had just ended,” Krav offered, helping drag one of the corpses toward the door. “We were stationed—”

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