All Chapters of The Alpha's Dragon: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The man’s breath brushed her neck as her dark and green hair splayed wide across the fur like bed. Slow. Intentional. Each exhale trembled like he was tasting restraint. He nipped.“Tell me you feel it,” he murmured against her ear.His voice was deep, rough, silky ....the kind that crawled beneath the skin and licked at the edges of reason. His fingers traced down her arm, calloused yet reverent, drawing fire wherever they touched. She could smell him — rich earthy, woody sensual thickness of a predator barely holding back his bite.Her body knew the rhythm before her mind caught up. Her pulse fluttered; her spine arched of its own accord.“I don’t even know you,” she whispered, breath catching as his hand slid to her hip then moved behind to grope her ass. Hard, rhythmical.“You will,” he promised. His lips sucked on her throat, as his tongue twirled, leaving a burning sensation that crawled to her folds. His name faded through her mind like smoke as she grabbed his ass in return.

His name was Ligon Tiv.Among wolves, the name carried weight like metal striking against thunder claps. To friend and foe alike, it meant power, wealth, and a lineage no rival had ever broken. He was the Alpha of Tungsten Pack, the only son of his parents.In his wolf form, he was a massive beast weighing over one hundred and fifty pounds. His fur was silver-streaked, and his eyes, green as emerald gem, stood out across the forest. His claws and fangs were a concoction of tungsten and dragon bones smelted into his bloodline. Weapons no ordinary wolf could claim. With them, he could tear through armor, stone, and even dragon hides.Ligon had been orphaned young. He had lost his parents to banshees while they protected the pack from assassination. That day still haunted him—the screams, the smell of burned flesh, the silence that followed. With no time to mourn, he spent his entire youth rebuilding the pack through cunning, ferocity, and an unyielding will.Along the way, he had gather

Chapter Five: Resistance and FireFive years had passed since the night the Tungsten wolves dragged Valia from Centaur chains. In those years, she had become one of them or at least, close enough to provoke their respect.“You’ve been staring at Ligon’s butt for two hours now.” Roloveria’s eyes gleamed like moonlight on a lake, her tone thick with mischief.Used to it. Valia didn’t even blink. “Well, drooling at delicious snack is a hobby I wouldn't give up for the world”Laughter rippled around their circle. Even Ligon, towering near the smithy, shook his head before disappearing into one of the pack houses for repairs, his stride all business.Moments later, his voice thundered across the courtyard. “We hunt at dusk. Prepare yourselves. No more lounging.”Hunting days were her domain.Valia’s wings, great emerald arches rippled outward, strong enough to break down trees. Each scale shimmered like tempered glass, shifting in color from deep forest green to crimson when the light kiss

The vision unfolded with clarity.Ligon found himself in a tavern thick with noise. Mugs slamming, laughter spilling, the air alive with smoke and the sour bite of ale.In the far corner, a fight erupted. A tavern maid squaring off against a burly warrior.“Say that again, you disgusting oaf.” Her voice cut through the noise. Calm. Icy."Oh come on, sweetheart,” the man slurred, leering. “ I just said I'd love to ram you right here. Hard and rough. Don’t act like you’re innocent. I’ve seen how you serve, your ass to the crowd. You want it that bad huh"His cronies laughed, eyes greedy and insolent. “We could pass you around, show you a real ti....”Wham!The tavern went silent. Every mug froze midair.Splinters rained to the floor—what was left of the wooden chair lay in ruins. Blood trickled down the burly man’s temple as his face twisted in disbelief. He staggered upright, fury burning in his gaze as he raised his hand to hit her.“How dare y—”He never finished.The woman moved lik

The lanterns swayed overhead, firelight kissing the edges of Demisule’s obsidian jeweled gown. Her every step was deliberate, soft, as she glided to meet him halfway through the garden.“Your pack is impressive,” she murmured, circling Ligon as though measuring him. “Strong. Magnificent. Commanding. Each one of you, even the weak ones. I can see why your enemies surrender before they strike.”He folded his arms. “Flattery isn’t a currency we trade in here.”“Then consider this a gift,” she whispered, tracing a finger along the bulge of his arm. “My people believe alliances are best sealed with…shared breath.”"I would rather accept respect as a most suitable gift" Ligon countered.Demisule’s lips curved. “Respect,” she echoed, pausing behind him. “Such a lonely word for a man who leads alone. Now I know how desperately you really need me”He didn’t move, though her perfume drifted close. The strong scent pulsed the air like a threat. “I don't know where you get your delusions but I am