Vorian stared blankly at the towering, terrifying teenage warlord standing before him. Looking into the boy's wide, panicked green eyes, Vorian realized with dread that he was looking at an entirely clueless child.
Vorian's jaw slacked. He mentally cursed his King with every foul draconic word in his vocabulary.
How in the name of the ancient ancestors did Zarek never give his son the talk? They had taught the boy how to disembowel a rogue beast with a single swipe, how to command an army, and how to track prey through a blizzard.
But they had completely neglected his biological education.
"I..." Vorian stammered, scratching his head. He cleared his throat violently, desperately trying to maintain his sanity. "Well, young Prince. It is... it is about mating. With your mate."
Drax's dark brow furrowed into an intense, highly analytical scowl. He crossed his thick arms over his tunic, completely unsatisfied with the vague answer.
