Page 47 of Fated to the Dragon Warlord

I am so far out of my depth, I can’t see the surface anymore.

He’s not toilet cleaner, Kerra. You have to talk with him.

He’s not the easiest to talk to…

You’re going to have to try, if you like him.

I mean, if you like him.

If you don’t, you’re going to have to accept you have an enormous scaly stalker for the rest of your life.

You are NOT helping

I’m helping by making you DO something, not mope about

Not moping

If you’re hanging around outside his quarters, you’re moping.

Damn Rosalie. I look up at Darax’s door. He’s not in there. I saw him earlier striding towards the area where the ship and all of his empire is controlled. His tail lashed as a lackey tried to engage him with a larger version of the tech I’m using to send messages. Darax responded with a now familiar snarl.

My desire totalkevaporated.

Humans are not Sarkarnii. He goes into rut, something completely physical. We fall in love. It’s different.

Or that is what I’m telling myself over and over. After what we did in the aquium, after what he said. After the bomb hedecided to drop on me in terms of the differences between Sarkarnii and humans.

Ever since my heart has been beating into the void and my head has been a mess, I’ve done my best to avoid Darax. Tried to throw myself into our new life with the Sarkarnii.

Tried not to think about what Darax’s rutactuallymeans.

“Hello, little morsel,” a wicked voice growls in my ear. “Waiting for me?”

“No…yes…” I trip over my words, knowing I have no explanation for hanging around outside his quarters. “I was just passing,” I say, finally.

Darax curls a huge, clawed hand around my shoulder.

“Do you want to have a better look at my quarters, little mate? I can show you my hoard.”

Oh, good lord.

“Um…” I genuinely don’t know what to say to his offer, other than I know what it might lead to. I move to face him. “We need to talk, Darax.”

He studies my face with his fiery eyes. His clawed hand traces through my hair, lifting a lock of it and allowing it to trail over the obsidian curve.

“Then we can go to the dining hall, for a snack.” Darax licks his lips with his deadly forked tongue.

I am so, so screwed.

All I can think about is a certain part of his anatomy on mine.

“Yes, that might be a good idea.”

I take a step to one side, but he matches me.

“I would like to mate with your mouth first,” he growls. “I like it.”

I can’t deny, kissing Darax is pretty good. But is it a slippery slope? Is it making him worse or better?

---