Page 58 of Fated to the Dragon Warlord

KERRA

The confusion, the fear, and the despair on Darax’s face sent me into a flat spin. The older Sarkarnii was being what I thought was ridiculously deferential to him, until I saw the way Darax had speared his own hand with his claws.

The rut is a phenomenon I don’t have any reference to, but it’s more than Darax wanting to have sex with me, that much has been made crystal clear in the last few minutes. It is something he can’t control. Something which takes what he is, feral and dangerous, and makes him ten times worse.

It is something I want to give him relief from.

Mollified, somewhat, by the older warrior’s words and with his hand in mine, I’m surprised to be able to lead Darax back down the track made by the aliens dragging my friends until we reach the scrubland once again.

“Lord Darax?” one of his warriors, a young one given he’s slimmer than many of the others, his muscles standing out like lumps on a piece of string, says.

“The area has been seeded,” Darax rasps. “Dalat is dealing with it. Until he gives the all clear, stay back.”

Darax’s tone is low and deep, but it has an almost sleepy drawl.

“We have some other areas to investigate,” I say, seeing the hungry look which flits over his face as he regards the younger warrior.

A feral, dangerous look. One which says violence.

Darax turns to look at me, blinking slowly. “We do?”

“We do,” I say firmly and tug on his hand. If I expect him to stay still, he does not. In fact, he follows me easily until we get around the side of the ship.

At which point, I’m in the grip of a huge male, his claws in my hair and his mouth on mine in a long, dominant, possessive kiss.

“Mating your mouth is my favorite,” Darax rasps as he releases me. “I like it almost as much as I like sheathing my cock in your sweet, hot cunt.”

“Darax.” I put my hand on his chest, knowing I can’t possibly stop him even if I want to, but he does indeed stop, allowing me to feel the thumping of his heart. “Exactly what is the rut?”

Darax closes his eyes, inhaling deeply before releasing a long stream of white smoke. When he opens his eyes again, there is more clarity there than before.

“For my clan, when a Sarkarnii male meets his szikra, the mating gland sends the mix into his bloodstream, setting off the rut,” he says, voice hoarse. “When we had a planet, it meant a male went through a period of rage, of desire, of needing to mate, to put his cock in his female. If she reciprocated, if she accepted his claim, then there would be a dance and a sarkarnling…and more.” He dips his head as if having difficulty breathing. “If not, she would envenomate him and leave him to recover. After that, the rut was over.”

“So, you either bit her or she bit you?”

Darax nods. “Simply put, little mate, and true.” He sighs. “So much was simple.” He focuses his eyes directly on me. “I rut for you, my Kerra. From the moment I saw you, my matinggland filled me with the mix. But rutting here, in this galaxy, is different.”

“Different how?”

He hesitates, studying my face, one clawed hand still in my hair. It flexes slightly.

“Our mutation, or at least my mutation. The rut risks insanity.”

I hold my breath. It seems now Darax has decided to be honest with me.

“If I claim you, if I give you my bite and you accept it, the hope is the rut will come to an end, and I will retain my sanity.”

“But you don’t know?” I ask, my voice a mere whisper.

“I know when I am with you, I could cut off a limb and not feel a thing. Without you, my head is a mess.” Darax places his forehead against mine, cupping my face with his hands. “I know I need you.”

“What if I accepted your claim?” I stumble over the words.

“This is not a plea, Kerra,” Darax growls, his brow drawing low over his eyes. “I am not begging you. My rut will know either way if you accept or reject me.”

A cold hand tightens around my heart. My emotions are everywhere all at once. I can’t even get to what Darax is to me.

“What can I do?”

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