Desired By the Dragon Warlord (Fated Mates of the Sarkarnii Warlords #4)

Maggie

I’m unable to stop the rather irritating part scream, part squeak I make as a huge Sarkarnii warrior manages to surprise me, wings outstretched in a half dragon half man form.

Their ability to move like cats, silently despite their size, is not a welcome trait for these great idiotic aliens. And, yes, I have been on their planet for some time, and yes, I should be used to them by now.

But I’m not. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being around what are basically lethal sky puppies. And the one who buzzed me was probably curious about the alien female. Again.

It doesn’t stop me from shouting a string of expletives at him. Curious or not about the humans, alien as we are to the Sarkarnii, it doesn’t give him the right to scare the crap out of me.

Especially as I’m not at my best this morning.

Not only have I missed breakfast because I woke up late, but we’re still stuck in Dante’s sector, and Dante is my least favorite of the warlords because he’s the least predictable.

I’m only here because of Rosalie, Dante’s human mate and my friend, and also because, for some unknown reason, my other friend, Lydia, feels safe here.

I know she doesn’t want to go to any of the other sectors as we were ordered to by Dalox, the big, brooding older male Sarkarnii warlord and their erstwhile leader, and while I dig my heels in here in Dante’s sector, we don’t have to.

The door to our quarters opens, and I see Lydia sat in the central seating area. In front of her is a spread of food I instantly descend on like a woman half starved.

“Did you miss breakfast?” Lydia asks.

I look up from my feral chewing. “How did you know?”

“You weren’t there.”

I shrug. Good point.

“Thanks for this.” I gesture to the food. “I can’t seem to wake up in the mornings anymore.”

“We’re all bound to feel the effects of being here in different ways,” Lydia says sadly.

Her pale skin seems more translucent and more blue than ever. I shuffle my bum over and put my arm around her shoulders.

“I know it’s hard for you,” I say. “I recommend you eat some of the green pancakes as a cure.”

Lydia blinks at me. I blink back at her. There is a long pause.

“You’re joking, right?”

“You know I am. No one in their right mind should ever eat green pancakes. Not after what happened to Scarlett.”

“She thought they were matcha.” Lydia snorts a tiny laugh, and it makes me feel better.

“She was wrong.”

“So wrong.” Lydia risks a giggle. I give her shoulder another squeeze before going back to eating.

“Have you heard?” Lydia says, coming back to the seating area with two steaming hot cups of fee, a slightly sweet, almost milky drink the Sarkarnii claim not to like and yet which is ubiquitous.

I have always preferred their ale wine, which the rest of my friends cannot stomach.

“Heard what?”

“About Driok.”

“I don’t give a shit about Driok, as you well know,” I spit out.

“Oh, I know,” Lydia says salaciously. “I think we all know. I think the entire galaxy knows you don’t like Driok.”

“He’s an arrogant, egotistical, scaly wanker.”

“Oh? I thought he was a complete titting arsehole.” Lydia does an impression of my Yorkshire accent, and I growl under my breath.

“He’s all of the above,” I say through gritted teeth. “It’s a good thing he’s not on Vorostor, or I’d be finding the alien equivalent of scorpions and putting them in his bed.”

“Only his bed?” Lydia raises an eyebrow.

“Depending on how many I could find, in his boots and pants too,” I retort.

“You are very interested in getting up close and personal to the Sarkarnii you profess to dislike so much,” Lydia says.

“If you want to do bodily harm to someone, you have to get up close and personal. That’s how it works, Lydia.”

“I’m aware of that, Maggie.” She glares at me. “Anyway, I overheard Dante and Darax talking, and Driok is on his way back to Vorostor…”

I don’t hear the rest of her sentence because the breakfast I was so keen on a few minutes ago is going to reappear with some considerable urgency.

Driok is coming back. To this planet. I’m going to have to face him.

I might even have to tell him.

Our one-night stand…after which I told him to never darken my door again…it’s left me with more than the walk of shame and residual embarrassment.

He’s been away long enough for me to know for sure.

I’m pregnant. And the baby is his.