Page 26 of Fated to the Dragon Warlord

I screw my face up.

“No mass eye removal. Only a few as a warning?” he suggests, eyeing me hopefully.

I lift my hand, holding it flat and tilting it from side to side. “Possibly no body parts missing at all?” I suggest.

“Then how will they ever learn?” Darax rumbles.

I’m not entirely sure if he’s joking or not.

“Perhaps they don’t need to learn. And anyway, I needed help, and you weren’t around.”

My big Sarkarnii snarls under his breath something which could be a swear word. “I need to shed my skin. I was in my aquium.”

“And did you?” I look over his body. Darax has pants on, but like all of the semi- clothed Sarkarnii I’ve seen so far, they sit low on his hips, exposing a considerable amount of glittering scaled skin. And abs. Can’t possibly miss the abs, especially on Darax who has to be considerably bulkier than all the other Sarkarnii I’ve seen, as well as taller.

“No,” he growls. “I did not.”

Oh dear, I have a grumpy Darax.

“I asked to be brought here because I wanted to tell you the other women agree we don’t need to be presented to the warlords. They want to have some breathing space, to get used to this new reality.”

“And what new reality would that be?” Darax hasn’t let me go, and I’m, strangely, not complaining.

“We were all taken from our planet, and we’ve all ended up being dumped here on…”

“Vorostor.”

“On Vorostor. With alotof new things to come to terms with.”

Darax furrows his brow. “Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know, like how we can understand alien languages?”

“Nano implants.”

“Or great scaled creatures who turn into even bigger ones.”

“Sarkarnii.” Darax gestures to himself with his free hand.

“Or tech which can produce clothes instantly, or space ships, or, well, any of this.” I wave my hand in the air. “Our planet is backwards compared to literally all your tech. We’re cavemen in comparison.”

“Cavemen?” Darax queries.

“Primitive.”

“I do not consider you primitive, Kerra.” He shifts his grip, and I’m slightly tipped back in his arms, looking directly into those stunning eyes.

“That’s good to know.”

“I want you to mate my mouth again.” The look in his eyes deepens into that of pure hunger.

“Mate your mouth?” I query, completely unable to process his expression. “Do you mean kiss?”

“If kiss is mouth mating, then I want to do that,” Darax says in all seriousness. “You are my mate, Kerra. I rut for you. I need to make you mine.”

KERRA

Darax’s lips hit mine. Hismouth mating, is clearly something he enjoyed, and he also recalls how it works given the way his tongue sweeps through my mouth, the forked ends making the experience exquisite.

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