Slave of the Dragon

Guys, just to warn you, this is a dark romance book. This isn't a nice guy wrapped in a tough exterior, this is quite the opposite. The MMC is forceful, mean, and does some unspeakable things.

This is not a monster who is just a broken man.

This is THE monster. The one who steals you from your bed and uses you how he wants you.

But do enjoy! ;)

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I shouldn't be doing this.

Growing up, I always loved stories about other worlds. Tales of fairies, vampires, dragons, and creatures I could barely imagine. Worlds where they lived in harmony—until humans destroyed their lands and wiped them out.

All nonsense, of course. But the stories my mother read to me before bed stuck with me, their magic lingering in the corners of my mind even as I grew older.

Some conspiracy theories mention governments finding remnants of these creatures but keeping it hidden from the public to avoid an outcry.

My father works for the government. As an inventor, he often talks about his projects, but nothing had ever piqued my curiosity like his latest creation.. a device to travel to other universes.

He unveiled it proudly last week. My brothers shrugged it off, my mother cried with pride as usual, but me? I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Now, here I am, standing in front of the small, unassuming device. It looks like an ordinary phone, something you’d slip into your pocket without a second thought. My fingers itch to touch it, to see if it actually works. No one’s home. What’s the harm?

Slowly, I step closer, hesitant yet unable to resist. When I press my finger against the smooth surface, the screen lights up, displaying timelines and tiny images.

“Cool,” I whisper, scrolling through the options. My breath catches when I spot one: a dragon.

I frown. Dragons? My father had mentioned ancient artifacts, but never actual living species. Least of all dragons.

I tap the picture.

It stings my finger. Like a vibration, but worse. It feels alive, like it's trying to memorise my finger print.

And then everything goes white. I shut my eyes on instinct, but the blinding light pierces straight through my lids.

I’m hurled backward, the air forced from my lungs as I hit the ground hard. I immediately know what's happening. My father is a perfectionist, after all. His inventions don't fall.

I'm being transported to another universe.

Fuck. Shit shit shit. Fuck.

I groan, blinking against the afterimage of light. My head spins. The cold bites into my skin as I sit up.

I'm outside.

Darkness surrounds me, trees towering overhead, their skeletal branches unable to shield me from the icy stars. Damp earth soaks through my socks, chilling me to the bone.

My hands are empty, my father's device nowhere to be seen, and I'm in a cold, empty forest. I glance down at myself—pink shorts, a black spaghetti strap top, my comfy clothes for a night in. My tea is still on the kitchen table, next to my phone. The TV is still on. And the oven—

Shit. The oven. I left the oven on.

The absurdity of the thought makes me laugh bitterly. Here I am, stranded in another universe, freezing my limbs off, and I’m worried about kitchen appliances.

I push myself to my feet, my woolly socks squelching in the mud. I take a tentative step forward—

“Ouch!” I yelp as a sharp branch slices through the fabric of my sock.

I slap my hand in front of my mouth, quickly silencing myself. The last thing I want to do is-

"What do we have here?"

I freeze. Fear instantly freezes my veins, and I keep my back to the deep male voice. I feel eyes rake over my body and bare skin, and my spine tingles with danger.

Get out. Now. Run.

But running feels impossible, my limbs frozen with fear. Slowly, I turn, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

He’s tall. Broad shoulders, lean muscle visible even beneath his black, scaly leather outfit. His dark brown hair is cropped short, his skin a warm bronze that glints under the moonlight. His hands rest casually behind his back, but his eyes tell a different story. He’s studying me like I’m something foreign, something that shouldn’t exist. He looks at me like I'm not a threat at all.

I guess I'm not. Especially if he's a-

A shiver runs down my spine.

“Do you speak?” His voice is sharp, impatient.

“Y—” I clear my throat, trying to steady my voice. “Yes.”

His gaze sharpens, and every instinct screams at me to run. But I can’t move. It would be dumb, anyway, to run from this.. Man.

He sniffs the air once and frowns slightly. "What are you?"

I'm taken aback for a second. Goosebumps rise on my skin when a cold breeze blows past me, and I automatically wrap my arms around my body to converse some heat.

He instantly looks down at my body.

"I'm.." I say, causing him to look up at him again. I stop speaking again, and frown. "What do you mean? What am I?"

"What species?" He asks back, his tone still sharp and impatient.

"A human?" I say more as a question.

He stiffens, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Human?” His voice drops, darkening with a strange hunger. His hands slack behind his back.

Fuck.

He whistles sharply.

The sound is like a signal. Suddenly, six men drop from the trees, surrounding me. Their hands are poised like claws, ready to strike.

I don’t move. I barely breathe. I just want to live.

The leader steps closer, his eyes locked on mine. There’s a flicker of something—curiosity? Malice? Both? It’s impossible to tell. He's looking at me like he wants to inspect me, like I'm some freak he can't wait to put his hands on.

Let's hope that's not correct.

“Seize her,” he orders.

Before I can react, the men pounce. They hit me hard. The force of their weight slams me to the ground, the air knocked from my lungs. Rough rope binds my wrists, my waist, my neck. It bites into my skin, leaving raw, burning trails.

I struggle, but it’s useless. My resistance only earns laughter.

A gag is shoved into my mouth, the coarse material scraping my lips. It tastes metallic, foul—like blood and other things I don’t want to think about.

Tears prick my eyes as I’m hauled upright, presented like some sort of prize to the leader.

My heart pounds with cold fear and I mentally scream for my parents and brothers. For anyone to hear me. This is bad. This is really, really bad.

The men around me chuckle in delight.

The leader is suddenly in front of me, and the rope loosens its hold. Instead, his hand encircles my neck. His eyes are tiny slits as he looks at me, and I know he's a dragon. There's so mistaken it. He smells of it. He reeks of death and destruction. Of war and fire.

“Take her to the King,” he commands, his gaze never leaving mine. There's nothing but malice in his eyes. Not a sliver of friendliness, nothing to which I can relate to.

I'm utterly alone.

The men yank me forward, their grip bruising. My tongue feels the raw material of the rope, and I nearly gag.

Two males hold me. One holds the rope around my neck, the other one the rope around my wrists. They walk way too fast, and I scramble over my feet to keep up. I'm tall, but I'm nothing compared to these men. The sticks beneath my feet are sharp and the mud is wet and loose. I'm struggling to keep up.

We walk. And we walk.

For what seems like hours, we walk through the dark forest. I scan the men around me thoroughly. They're all dressed in black, in what looks like leather scaly suits. It's like it's made of dragon scale. They're big men and walk through the forest like nothing could ever attack them. The leader of them, the one that found me, walks in the back. I feel his eyes on me constantly.

I’m cold, exhausted, and terrified. But one thought drowns out everything else.

I don’t belong here.