All Chapters of Claimed by Dragon Twins: Chapter 1 - Chapter 7

The full moon of 1250 hung high in the sky over FeWard, pouring silvery light over the Dark Forest. Ancient trees rose like black sentinels, twisted branches intertwining overhead. Shadows danced on the uneven ground. The air was cold and damp.Irmak, the eighteen-year-old princess heir, dug her spurs into the flanks of her black horse. The animal neighed, muscles tensed, galloping at full speed. Dry leaves flew behind them. The biting wind whipped her face."Faster!" she ordered, her voice low and urgent.Her golden braid, long to her waist, was coming undone. Rebellious strands stuck to her sweaty skin. Her dark green velvet dress tore at the hem with every low branch. Dirt and leaves clung to the fine fabric.She didn't look back. The castle of FeWard grew more distant. Its gray towers and royal banners vanished into the nocturnal mist.Her heart pounded hard against her ribs. Each beat echoed like a war drum. Pressure. Duty. Forced marriage."Damned Vortigern..." she murmured thro

Átila remained behind. Hands sliding down her arms. Lifting her gently to her feet. Irmak stood between them. Small. Delicate. Surrounded by muscles and heat. Her right hand extended hesitantly. Fingers brushed Kuzey's chest. Hot skin. Heart beating strong under her palm. Sparks danced again. More intense. Shooting straight to her clit. She moaned low. Involuntary. "Gods..." Kuzey smiled. "Not gods. Dragons." Átila pressed his body against her back. Hard cock brushing the curve of her ass over the dress. "Feel both of us. Choose after." Irmak turned her face to the side. Looked at Átila over her shoulder. "You have no shame. Appearing naked. Talking of prophecy. Touching without asking." Kuzey took her hand. Guided it to his marked abdomen. "Shame is for weak mortals. We are pure desire. Living fire." Her fingers descended slowly. Brushed the line of dark hair leading to the thick cock. She stopped. Heavy breathing. "This is dangerous. I am a princess. You... monsters

They laid her down on a bed of soft leaves, carefully arranged by Átila moments before. The grass was dense and flexible, like a living mattress prepared by the forest itself for that sacred and profane moment. Irmak, with her twenty-six well-lived years, felt her heart hammering against her ribs. She was no longer an innocent young woman from the human villages. She had fought, bled, and desired for years. But nothing had prepared her for this: being claimed by two twin dragons at the same time.Kuzey, the wilder of the two, tore her dress with a claw that still bore traces of iridescent black scales. The thin fabric ripped like paper, sliding off her shoulders and revealing firm, heavy breasts with rosy nipples that were already hard from both excitement and the chill of the night.“By the ancient gods… just look at her,” Kuzey murmured, his deep voice reverberating like a roll of thunder. His golden eyes gleamed with predatory hunger.Átila knelt between her legs with slow, deliber

In the heart of the Western Mountains, the Black Iron Castle rose like an open wound in the landscape. Its towers were irregular, made of volcanic stone and twisted metal. Red and black banners fluttered in the cold wind. Inside the council chamber, lit only by green torches that never burned out, Lord Vortigern slammed his fist on the massive oak table with such force that cracks spread across its surface.“That whore is giving herself to demons!” he roared.His voice echoed off the stone walls. Vortigern was a tall, middle-aged man with sharp features and a neatly trimmed beard streaked with gray. His eyes were gray and cold as steel blades. He wore a black doublet embroidered with golden serpents — the symbol of his house. Around the table sat his closest advisors: General Draven, Chancellor Aldric, and, seated slightly apart in the shadows, Malachar himself.The sorcerer wore a dark purple robe. His skin was excessively pale, almost translucent, and black veins ran across his neck