Page 9 of Captured By the Dragon Warlord
“I…” Before I can say anything, he has put the bread roll in my mouth. I’ve got no option but to bite into it.
The purr rumbles through Dexx. For a very brief instant, I think I like it. But then the reality he took me from what was essentially my home, by force, and is keeping me here as his prisoner settles in. I swallow the bread and clamp my lips shut.
Dexx holds the remainder of the roll to me. I shake my head. This time there is not a purr but a suppressed growl, and I fling myself from his lap and onto the floor.
He rises from his throne, towering over me. Smoke and flames fire from his mouth and nose.
“For your next meal, I will require your presence in the dining hall with my warriors. They will expect my mate to eat from me,” he says.
“They’re going to be disappointed.” I respond.
Dexx bends over, his face close to mine, huge wings unfurling from his back and his long tail lashing from side to side.
“If you ever want to have contact with the other females again, you’ll comply with my orders,mate,” he snarls before flicking upright and stalking out of the room.
Somehow, I don’t know how, Dexx has pressed the one button which will make me do as he asks. I can’t imagine not being able to see my friends again.
So, I fume as he leaves. I don’t want to do anything he says, and I’m going to have to find some way of complying without complying. If I have any luck at all, he might just reject me and send me back to Darax.
Although the fact he’s just called me hismatewould suggest I’m going to have to do something pretty catastrophic to even get his attention, let alone his rejection.
DEXX
If I hadn’t left when I did, I would have messed my pants. The little female’s defiance, her refusal to take my orders, is such I want to mate her instantly. Sheath myself in her, fill her with my seed,breedher.
But females cannot be taken in this way. They need careful handling to avoid being envenomated. I saw a Sarkarnii once after they had failed to mate. Envenomated, dejected, he was in a terrible state. I’ve been in plenty of battles, but I do not want to be bitten by my female.
I do, however, want to mate with her. My hips swing as I make my way through the ship to the dining hall. Having taken her from Darax is a source of celebration for my crew. No one likes the reliance we have on him to provide for us, especially as we spend so much time under the surface of Vorostor.
Especially as our mutations mean we couldn’t do what his clan does even if we wanted to.
The warriors tasked with preparing the feast stop what they are doing when I enter, slamming their fists on their chests and bowing their heads just enough to be deferential.
“My mate likes kifyli and meat,” I announce. “Make sure there is plenty for her.”
“Yes, Lord Dexx,” the head warrior responds.
“Do we have enough ale-wine, or do I need to send a scouting party to liberate more?” I growl.
“We have plenty from your last expedition, Lord Dexx.” He grins at me.
I scan all their minds to find they’re filled with similar thoughts about the celebration and how much they are intending enjoying it. But then all my warriors know I can pluck what they’re thinking straight out of their heads if I want to invade their thoughts.
Not that I’ve ever found this knowledge means they filter what they’re thinking. Some days I wonder if they deliberately fill my head with violence and images of their cocks.
As a species, it seems, despite all the risks, we are quite obsessed with the one body part we can store away and forget about.
Although, I ignored mine until it started bothering me with the arrival of the females on Vorostor. Whether this means I’m in rut for the little female in my quarters is another matter.
I contemplate what being in rut means as I scratch at my scales and reach the central control area of theSteel Jewel. As expected, Dalsor is waiting for me. He will be due to shift soon, but given he holds a vid-pad in his hands, it can only mean one thing.
“War?” I snarl.
There’s a ripple of interest around the room. At least war would be another use for our constant need to shift.
“Lord Dalox wants you to comm him.”
I growl out loud, inwardly cursing him to the ancestors. But to openly defy Dalox wouldn’t mean war. It would mean annihilation, and my clan has enough problems as it is.
