Page 32 of Fated to the Dragon Warlord

“If I drop this,” he says quietly, “do not run. You will die.”

Oh, great. All my time stuck in a rusting space bucket, the possibility of being blown to smithereens and ending up in a pulsar trap, and this is how I die, in a meeting? How very corporate.

At the end of the dimly lit corridor, a door slides open. Darax orders his warriors to wait as we enter.

It’s a room which is somewhat familiar. It reminds me of Darax’s quarters. The depression in the center isn’t exactly a bed as such, but it contains a further circle of cushions, and in the middle is a small pit filled with flame. On the opposite side to us is a selection of raised shelves which are covered in platters of food. One huge Sarkarnii is stood with his back to us, shoveling various items into his mouth.

Driok leans against the wall, arms folded over his impressive chest.

“Dante,” Darax snarls. “You nearly killed me.”

Before I can even blink, Darax has dropped the chain and fired himself across the room at the Sarkarnii. Dante turns, unconcerned, putting another chunk of meat into his mouth. He dodges to the left as Darax lands before unsheathing a set of claws which wouldn’t be out of place on any dinosaur. His red scales seemingly glow brighter.

“You nearly killed my…” Darax holds back, glaring at Dante. “Captive,” he snarls.

Dante easily returns the snarl with a blood curdling one of his own. Darax strikes out, cuffing Dante on the side of his head with what doesn’t seem like much force.

It’s enough to cause the great creature to barrel straight at Darax, body slamming him and causing the pair to tumble into the pit area. Tails, wings, and teeth swirl as the large room is filled with the sounds of the fight.

“These things nearly always result in a draw,” Driok rumbles in my ear, suddenly next to me, making me jump at his stealthy approach. He inhales over me, eyes not leaving the growling, snarling mess below us. “Interesting,” he adds as the door snaps open and the biggest Sarkarnii yet strides in.

“Enough,” he says. His voice, whilst not raised, resonates around the room.

Dante and Darax unlock from their fight. Darax punches Dante in the head, and in a single, swift move, he’s out of the pit and by my side. Dante lies in the bottom of the depression laughing.

“Whoever is giving this Sarkarnii whatever it is he’s on is to stop it immediately,” the big Sarkarnii growls. “Or deal with me.”

Driok shrugs. “Narcotics are not my speciality, Dalox.” He nods at Darax. “Ask him.”

“I do supplies, not narcotics, and there’s no way I’d make that nevver any worse than he already is,” Darax growls with a vicious glance at Dante, who remains sprawled out on the cushions, scratching at his crotch with those same huge claws. “Speak to Dexx if you want to stop the flow of narcotics to Vorostor Central.”

“I would if he’d show his nevving face,” Dalox growls. “But before I deal with him, and”—he glares at Dante, who simply gives him an unhinged grin back—“him, I need to deal with you.”

DARAX

My anger simmers. I didn’t intend picking a fight with Dante, but the nova-second I saw the nevver, unconcerned about his earlier behavior and the fact he nearly killed us all—it overwhelmed me.

Our fight remains unresolved due to Dalox. I should leave the addled creature to his own devices. Dante has enough problems of his own, given what’s going on in his head and the narcotics he uses. But the fact he put my mate in danger is still rankling within me.

Even if it is entirely in character. Even if I should have anticipated it. It’s easier to blame him than to look past my own shortcomings.

Which now include the rut. A rut which means I brought Kerra with me because I can’t bear to be parted from her. A rut which means any damage Dante did to me has healed almost instantly. A rut which will be my end if she is not claimed.

Dalox reaches into the pit and plucks Dante by his neck, slinging him as if he’s nothing across the room where he slides to a stop where he started. Dante rolls onto his back and laughs before getting to his feet and continuing to eat as if nothing has happened at all.

I shield my Kerra with my body from the gazes of Dalox and Driok.

“Any sign of Dexx?” Dalox asks, throwing his bulk into the pit.

“He says he’s busy,” Driok replies, collecting two goblets of ale-wine and dropping into the pit, offering one to Dalox, who takes it and drains it in a single gulp.

“Not as busy as Darax.” Dalox lifts his head, his tail tapping, the fire which has continued burning in the pit reflecting off his dark scales. “Who has brought a live meal with him.”

I can’t help but snarl loudly. “Not a meal.”

Driok chuckles under his breath, leaning back on the cushions, clearly ready to watch the show. He’s the one warlord I’d never turn my back on. Driok had a reputation before we came through the wormhole.Butcher of Haldane. It follows him here, to this galaxy.

“A mate then.” Dalox doesn’t change the tone of his voice.

---