Page 25 of Fated to the Dragon Warlord

“Lord Darax.” My science officer Dalat hovers near the exit.

“Unless you have the information I was seeking from the Bloar, I’m not interested, Dalat,” I growl.

“I’m afraid Lord Dante exploded the ship before we could pull the information from their data banks,” he says with not a little fear.

I drop my head back and groan. A nova-month’s work gone in a single nova-second. Nev Dante to the ancestors.

“Then work on who put the females in my sector without my knowledge,” I growl. “We’ll find other ships which can direct us to the wormholes.”

I shake my scales dry. The itch spreads like fire over my skin.

If I can’t shed, then I may as well indulge my new, and dangerous, passion. Spending time with the little female who could extinguish the fire in my veins.

Providing she wants to mate with more than my mouth.

KERRA

Darax’s quarters are smaller than I was expecting, given he’s awarlord. They’re furnished like the one on board the other ship, the one I assumed was his main vessel but I was wrong. A large depression in the floor is also filled with a tangle of blankets. Not entirely sure what that means other than perhaps Darax doesn’t sleep well.

It’s filled with the scent of him. Smoky, a hint of rich tobacco, and some spice which is almost intoxicating. There’s no fertility statue this time. Although there are cupboards and drawers I get to have a poke through.

I don’t need clothing now, not since a very rattled group of Sarkarnii brought us all in several trays of food and a small box with buttons on the side. One of them gave Rosalie a very, very brief demonstration, and we discovered it made clothing. Shortly thereafter, they all left at a run, with Maggie openly ogling their bottoms.

“Shame they didn’t want to hang around,” she said with a sigh.

“Look! Knickers!” Scarlett exclaimed, holding up a pair of granny pants.

“Good lord, you could use them for camping.” Rosalie snorted, waving hers over her head.

“I prefer comfort,” Scarlett retorted. “Not some string up my crack.”

Lydia laughed out loud and it was a nice sound to hear. She’d been the quietest of our group so far, and I remembered how completely terrified she was when she first saw Darax as a dragon.

“I vote for no string and less nana in my knickers,” Maggie said. “But I really, really want a shower and a set of clean clothes, although not what Lydia is wearing. No offense, Lydia.”

“None taken.” Lydia flapped her sleeves at Maggie, looking like a rubbish ghost. “I’d prefer something which fits too.”

As I’ve some experience of Sarkarnii living arrangements, I managed to find the bathroom for Maggie. Rosalie and Scarlett got to work on the machine and started pumping out various items of clothing, which emerged from a slot in the side like a fax machine.

Once everyone was fed and clothed, I went to find a Sarkarnii to take me to Darax’s quarters.

And here I am, on my own.

“I should have kept you chained up,” Darax growls from across the room.

I drop the blanket I’ve been holding back into the drawer and not-so-subtly close it with my hip.

“Or maybe I should keep my warriors chained up, given you were brought here by one,” he adds.

“Whatever you’re into, I guess.” I lean against the set of drawers, which chooses that particular moment to move back into the wall, causing me to lose my balance.

In a flash of movement, which such a huge creature like Darax shouldn’t be capable of, I find myself once again in his arms before I hit the ground.

“I amintomy warriors keeping their eyes to themselves or I will pluck them out for looking in your direction,” he rasps.

“Harsh and impractical.”

Towering above me, Darax inclines his head. “Yes,” he says, “you are right. I will merely remove one eye each. That way, they are still functioning warriors.”

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