Black Dragon Silhouette Novels & Stories

"Say my name like you mean it." Bianca's response came out as a broken sob. I couldn't make out the words, only the desperation behind them. Then my gaze drifted across the room, and I saw him. Red Dragon. Sitting naked in a chair facing them. His cock was hard between his legs, thick, dark veins stretching across it. He held a glass of wine loosely in his left hand while his right rested around his leaking cock. His gaze remained fixed on the scene with a calmness that unsettled me, as though everything happening before him had been arranged for his entertainment.

They looked like rickety monsters, with their glass eyes shot out, sporting a toothless hollow grin, dwarfing her. Her red, ornately embellished wedding dress, slowing her down. Her red dupatta (stole paired on an Indian dress) sweeping the ground, wet and heavy with the slick and rust. With her service Glock 17 handgun, cradled in her sweaty hands, she was quite a sight to look at.

When Charlotte saw his hand which was similar to a snake's skin and the claws he has as his nails she backed away and her foot slipped from the bed silk bedsheet she had stepped on . " Ahhhh ! " Charlotte was about to fall on the pointy crystal that was kept as a lamp next to the bed . " Careful ! " said the dragon king and swiftly grabbed her so that she wouldn't be hurt and fell together on the bed . Charlotte closed her eyes with fear . When she felt a soft feeling behind her back she slowly started to open her eyes . When she opened her eyes , she saw the dragon king upon her . She remained shocked when she saw him . His black hair fell upon Kiara . The black hair looked more like black

"Come on. You can do it." She pulled herself forward inch by inch. Almost there. Almost— A shadow swallowed the street. Grey looked up. A dragon. It descended directly toward them. Its wings scattered burning embers across ruined buildings. Upon its neck… Sat a hooded figure. Grey's blood ran cold. The rider's face remained hidden beneath black robes. One gloved hand clutched an obsidian staff covered in crimson symbols. The other traced strange movements through the air while continuously murmuring under his breath.

A tremor rolls beneath it like a beast stirring in its grave. Then I see it: a mural, buried under centuries of soot. A black-eyed dragon with its mouth open wide and branded on its neck is the sigil of the Boundless. My breath catches. They were here. “You’re not supposed to be here,” I growl before I even hear his footsteps. Elen steps from the shadows like the wind itself, silent, swift and uninvited. His long braid swings down his back, and his eyes glint like forged silver.

"Or what? You'll bleed on me? You’re a slave, Aria. And tonight, you’re going to find out what happens to slaves who try to sit on a Dragon’s throne, My throne. You think you can compete with me for king Silas?" Valerica flicked her wrist, and the Shadow-Hounds lunged. Aria dived to the side, the iron chain on her ankle jerking her back and slamming her into the bedpost. One beast snapped at her shoulder, its teeth grazing the skin just above the Mating Mark. CRACK. The door flew off its hinges, embedded into the opposite wall. Silas was there. He looked like a god of death. His tattoos were glowing a blinding, lethal red, and a faint trail of smoke rose from his skin. He didn't say a word.

One moonlit night, as Sable rested by a crackling campfire, a flicker of movement caught her attention from the corners of her eyes . She turned her head sharply, her senses heightened, and caught sight of a pair of glowing amber eyes peering at her from the underbrush. A shiver ran down her spine as she recognized the presence of a Dragonkin, a creature known for its stealth and cunning. "Who's there?" Sable called out, her voice steady despite the unease bubbling within her. The figure emerged slowly, revealing itself to be a young Dragonkin with scales as dark as midnight. Its snakelike tail swished back and forth, reflecting the glimmers of moonlight that filtered through the dense canop

I'm at peace with our decision but I hate seeing my friends suffer. "Damn you, take me!" I yell to the sky. Magic bursts behind me but I don't look back. Lightning strikes again and hits Ashrac. His body is tossed high and I have hope that the Goddess has taken our offer and will save him. His dragon explodes from his human body with a burst of light that's impossible to look at. "Ahhhh, hell," screams Sarn and the magic behind me bursts again. I dare to glance back. Sierra and Sarn are the most incredibly brilliant purple dragons. "What the hell," I mutter.

I tried to stand, but a shadow fell over the rock. Silas Drake had survived. He stood at the edge of the river, his dragon-glass armor shattered, his body a horrifying cage of salt and exposed muscle. He held his fireless spear like a club. Beside him, Liora was crawling through the silt, her eyes glowing with a desperate, parasitic hunger.

Her hands were clenched at her sides, her dark red nails trembling faintly as she fought to contain her anger. Opposite her, Dragon leaned casually against an antique wooden desk, his cold gray eyes gleaming with cunning. He wore a black shirt with the top buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of his tattooed chest, and dark trousers complemented by a leather belt with a gleaming silver buckle. His silver watch caught the faint light, and his tousled black hair gave him an air of unrestrained danger. "Enough, Dragon!" Jenny exclaimed, her voice choked as her luminous eyes radiated fury. "Can't you stop your ridiculous games for just one moment?!"