Page 17 of Fated to the Dragon Warlord

“Scarlett,” the red-head says, unable to tear her eyes away from the Sarkarnii.

For some reason, my stomach tightens at the way she’s looking at Darax.

“Lydia,” the dark-haired woman whispers, so low I must be the only person who hears. It seems like she’s just hanging on to consciousness. “He came through the trap to get to you,” she adds, even more inaudibly. “I think he likes you.”

Then she goes completely, her legs crumpling, and I can’t hold her up, instead lowering her to the floor.

“What is wrong?” Darax rasps.

“You scared her.” I look up at him.

“Lydia’s been saying she didn’t feel well for some time. She was here when we were put here.” Scarlett drops to her knees beside Lydia. “Do your Sarkarnii have any medical facilities?” She glares at me as she feels for a pulse.

“They’re not my…I don’t know.” I gaze up at Darax. “Do you have anything which can help her?”

Darax motions to one of his warriors, who stomps in and scoops Lydia up. I get to my feet with a hiss of breath at the pain in my ribs.

Instantly, I’m enveloped in a wall of scales and my lungs fill with the scent of smoke and spice.

“I told you if you were hurt, I would destroy the creature who harmed you,” he rumbles.

I’m in his arms, pressed to his chest.

And I don’t know how I feel about it at all.

DARAX

Kerra is injured because I wasn’t paying attention. She ended up in the pulsar trap because I failed her. It makes my blood rage.

It makes me want to destroy this place. Destroy everything in it.

But I can’t rage, as I have her in my arms, and I don’t ever want to let her go.

“Get the generator,” I order my warriors. “We’ll take it back to Vorostor Central. We’ll see if we can trace the manufacturer there.”

Two scurry off to do my bidding.

“Bring the females.” I turn, heading back to the ship.

My head is filled with the mating mix, the one thing which stopped me getting blown to smithereens by the generator. We pass the remains of the thing, pocked with teethmarks as my warriors shift to their Sarkarnii form and lift into the air. I hear gasps from the other females, but I’m not interested in them.

I’m more concerned with Kerra. Her breathing seems shallow and given her past behavior, I was expecting a fight. There is no fight. Instead she lies in my arms, her eyes not leaving the other females.

Desire and jealousy fight themselves. I want her full attention, but I understand her concern. She has found not only her friend but others like her, one of which is also injured.

Except, in the process, she got hurt too, and I loathe myself. I am no Sarkarnii warrior if I cannot protect her.

I call myself a warlord, but my sector has a pulsar trap I didn’t set.

I call myself a descendant of the High Bask. I don’t deserve to.

Not if the female I rut for ends up injured in my arms.

We reach the ship, and I give the order to return to Vorostor Central before taking Kerra through to the small clinic most Sarkarnii ships have.

“What is this place?” Kerra asks.

“Clinic,” I growl, hating the fact I have to bring her here. “Sarkarnii are tough. We don’t need much in the way of medical assistance. Our shift usually fixes any physical problems. This was already installed when we took it from the original owners.”

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