Page 12 of Captured By the Dragon Warlord
“I’m not going in this,” I say as Cestapal flaps back in carrying more garments.
“You are, or you will wear nothing. Either way, my warriors will not care,” Dexx says, extending his claws. “Only I will.”
I bristle. The gesture of giving me back the text device is entirely cancelled out by his suggestion he would make me go around naked.
“Come,” he says, curling a hand around my upper arm. “The celebration awaits.”
Whether I wanted to go to a party or not, I have zero options as I’m towed out of Dexx’s quarters and into the rest of his ship. The lights are as dim in the passages as they were in his quarters, and I keep bumping into the walls.
“Does it have to be so dark in here?” I exclaim as I hit yet another wall.
“It does,” Dexx growls. “We were mutated when we went through the wormhole, so strong lights for any period of time cause us pain.”
Oh great. I’m stuck on a ship with a bunch of snarly dragon warriors who prefer to live in the dark, like moles.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get much worse, we turn a corner, and the passage opens out into a huge vaulted hall. A hall filled with mayhem, smoke, and…dragons.
DEXX
Imade it clear I wanted all my warriors to attend the celebration, even those who are in shift. We’ve altered theSteel Jewelto be able to accommodate warriors in any form, whereas generally Sarkarnii ships have limited spaces for our shifted forms. At any one time, half of my crew at least is in their Sarkarnii form, and they still have to eat and sleep.
The only rule, enforced to the maximum, is no flame. Our eyes can’t take it in the confined space. So, there is no flame in the hall, only smoke. And fighting.
I lift my head and roar. The hall stills almost at once. Those able to, sit. Those in their Sarkarnii forms cease their battles, pulling their wings close to their bodies. Making themselves look as small as possible. They don’t want to threaten me. Making a clan member shift when it is not their time would not be a good thing.
I lead my Scarlett through the throng, keeping up a low snarl at any warrior who might look too long at her, but in the main, they keep their heads suitably bowed. I reach my seat at the head of the hall and fling myself into it, pulling my mate onto my lap.
Scarlett does not make a sound.
I dislike her silence almost as much as I love the lack of her thoughts in my head, given it’s filling with all the thoughts of my warriors. Most of which are related to the ale-wine, the food, the fights they were planning/having, and, fortunately for my temper, very little to do with the female in my lap, other than a passing interest.
“I have the female I stole from Lord Darax,” I announce, lifting both of Scarlett’s arms into the air. “He will not keep his spoils from us again!”
The crowd roars, the air filling with smoke and sparks. Tails thump on the floor and the noise is tremendous.
“Let the celebrations begin,” I growl. “No one leaves here sober.”
A large goblet of ale-wine is planted in front of me, and I drain it in a single gulp. A smaller one is placed for Scarlett.
I hand it to her. She shakes her head.
“You must drink,” I rasp. “It is expected.”
“I don’t care. I don’t drink alcohol. I’m allergic,” she says, folding her arms.
“All-gergric? What is this?”
“It means if I drink alcohol, my throat swells up and I die,” Scarlett snaps. “So, I don’t care if it is expected or not, I won’t be drinking it.”
I rumble my concern. I don’t want my mate to die, but I do want her to celebrate her new life, here with me, with my clan, on my ship.
I want my warriors to see the female in my lap as my equal.
I motion to the warrior serving me.
“Get some fee for my female as the ale-wine does not agree with her,” I murmur. “Put it in a goblet.”
If he is in any way perturbed by my suggestion, he does not show it. The fee arrives in a nova-second, and I pass the container to my mate.
