A Dragonslayer's Peerless Regression Novel นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I feel him making our cock thicker and longer and our mate gasps as she feels the dragon's involvement. “OH GOD,” She screams, “YES.” The dragon and I became animalistic and drove into our mate fast and hard as she had asked for. Her moans turned into screams of pleasure as I drove her over the edge, and she climaxed hard and squeezed my cock which sent me over the edge with her. I growl my pleasure along with her drop my forehead against hers and smile. “Was that to your liking?” I ask, breathing hard. “That was beyond what I asked for. It was perfect.” She smiles. “You are perfect. And our daughter is perfect and so will our baby be perfect.”

The ice in my very veins melted as he grew even taller than he normally was and more muscular,ripping Zephyros's tunic in the process. I staggered backwards and tripped on a branch. I fell backwards on my rump and even the sting was not enough to take my eyes off him. He exhaled and the nearest tree turned to ash immediately. i scrambled backwards on impulse and the branch i had tripped on got caught in his web. He opened his eyes and twin pools of fire peered down at me. I didn't need Luna to tell me i was not looking at Zephyros anymore...no. Not entirely. What stared back at me was the Fire Dragon.

In his place is a young man who still has his mother’s blond hair, but now his body is built very much like Cal’s, like the Alpha dragon that he is. Suddenly, Iniko’s nose lifts in the air and his eyes connect with someone in the crowd. “Mate!” he growls. **This story will continue in Iniko: A New Beginning, Book 8 of the Elemental Dragon series.

The end of the world smelled of sulfur and crushed violets. Princess Saoirse, the last true blood of the Dragon Kings, stood before the cracked vanity mirror in the servant’s quarters. Her hands trembled violently as she destroyed her birthright. The paste—a foul mixture of river mud, crushed walnut shells, and soot—felt cold and slimy against her scalp. Outside, the sky was bleeding. The Dragon Kingdom of Aethelgard, a realm of glass spires and singing winds, was dying. It wasn't dying quietly. It was screaming under the iron treads of the Empire’s war machines.

She started but was stopped by the glare from Elena. “Now!” Elena said sternly. Liam also turned to the two dragons and said “I am here with her, both of you take the injured to the safety and alert the silver knights.” With that said though reluctant, both the dragons did as their master’s ordered. As the dragons disappeared into the horizon, the black vortexes overhead began spinning faster, their shapes merging. One by one, they spiralled toward the centre of the broken tomb, colliding with blinding flashes of red and violet lightning. The wind screamed. The very sky seemed to bend inward.

The molten gold in my veins—the dormant, terrifying legacy of the Phantom Dragons—began to accelerate, instinctively rejecting the hostile environment. It was the ultimate, fundamental reflex of a predator refusing to be throttled by a lesser system. "They think they can freeze our physical hardware to force a surrender," I murmured softly. I watched my reflection in the dark glass. The human, unremarkable brown of my irises was slowly bleeding away, replaced by the blazing, incandescent gold of draconic slit-pupils. I turned back to face Xander and Caleb. "But they made a critical miscalculation. They forgot that the true root directory of this city doesn't run on diesel fuel."

Alexi had told me that the longer they were in their world, the longer it would take for them to return, and I cursed my heart for falling too deeply in love with them. Martha told me the most interesting story when she saw the mark on my shoulder. The patient I had thought was challenged initially happened to be a heartbroken dragon mate who lost her mind while waiting for her mate to return. The moment she saw the mark, she began to cry, telling me they won't return. She showed me her mark, and I realised she was the one that wrote the infamous' Fucked by Dragons' book. I asked her why she did not tell me the truth and made up all those crazy stories, and she asked me if I would have belie

They don't understand that breaking requires there to be something whole left to shatter, and wholeness is a luxury I surrendered long ago. The dragons are worse, somehow. They speak plainly, leaving only brutal honesty in their wake. There's something almost refreshing about their directness after months of dealing with courtiers who spoke in riddles and rebels who hid their intentions behind pretty words. One of them, cloaked in obsidian scales that shimmer with their own inner light, leans forward with predatory grace and says, "We strike soon, before her grip closes entirely."

she said, voice devoid of concern, as though the struggle to walk upright would be a test she was expected to pass. She walked anyway. Head high. Each step through the burning ache a refusal to be less than she was before. ∞∞∞ The Dragon Court was not a room—it was a cathedral of dominance carved into the heart of a living mountain. Obsidian walls soared into shadow, flanked by massive columns etched in gold, each rune pulsing faintly like a sleeping heartbeat. The air was thick with smoke and heat, and the scent of brimstone curled under her tongue. The floor beneath her feet was a river of black basalt veined with ruby, leading toward the raised dais like a sacrificial path.

“Honour forbids us to run from a fight, even if it’s one we cannot win.” The other women’s faces emerged from the undergrowth. “I saw you,” said Laney, eyes wide and twinkling. “You wrestled the dragon. You are the Dragonslayer!” Probably something she’d read in a book. The last thing I needed was her thinking I was some kind of mythical hero. Let them think you killed a dragon and you know what happens next? Everyone wants you to kill a dragon for them. And then a giant. And then it’s a balrog infestation. Pest control wasn’t where my ambitions lay.