Dragon Bride Novels & Stories

Amara was to be sacrificed as the Dragon bride. She had been raised for this; she had known this day would come. The village had gathered at the base of the black stone altar, whispering prayers in great terror, the dragon of the Mountains, Draco. She stood all dressed in white with her wrists tied up with a red ribbon that marked her as a sacrifice. Her red hair spilled around her, and her green eyes were filled with fear. Every step toward the altar was a step toward death. Her knees trembled, but the villagers pushed her forward, up the steps until she stood alone at the centre of the cold altar.

Roxanne He doesn't know my name and it hurts. After the opening introduction and the extended time-out for the two dragons, Laryn returns. His and Sarn's clothing are slightly disheveled but if there was blood they cleaned it off. Laryn remains by my side for the rest of the evening. I know of Calista, Sarn's bride. Her name and that of Meagan and Acasia as well as all the past brides are spoken of with reverence. To sacrifice yourself to a dragon is the highest honor a woman in my village can achieve. Of course, everyone believes they go to their death. It doesn't matter what they say to keep the brides from living in fear of the claiming. The village sacrifices the few to save the many. I

The kind of power I would have if the dragon king worshipped me, I would be unstoppable. Fueled by the desire of my imagination, I lifted Larissa's chin and made her look up to my face. “How do I get pregnant for the dragon king?" I asked. “It is almost impossible, My lady. Many have tried but none has succeeded. Only the true bride of the dragon king can carry a dragon foetus," she responded negatively. “So you mean there have been other brides?" “Yes, all of which were burned to ashes after their conception period exceeded. His Majesty won't hesitate to burn you alive if you fail to meet up to the task." A cold chill went down my spine after hearing her words.

“Miss Christine sure is delusional. Mr. Vincent is the Godfather of the Medici family. He’s worth billions. In New York, anyone with status treats him with the utmost respect.” “Isn’t he getting married to his fiancée in five days? And she’s saying he’s the love of her life? Does he even know who she is? Every Cinderella dreams of marrying into wealth, but not just anyone off the streets can be the Godfather’s woman.” I walked out of the hospital and, in a daze, got onto the subway. At that moment, my phone vibrated. When I checked it, I saw that Elena had sent several photos in a row. They were wedding photos of her and Vincent, taken in Central Park. The wedding dress she wore was the same

Zac's eyes flicked around before hypocritically advising, "Lana, Cruz must be joking! He still cares about you. Otherwise, why would he prepare such a grand wedding? Look, he can't just bring any woman to upset you on such a joyous occasion! Lana, quickly explain to Cruz that everything you posted on social media was just to provoke him and for show! Don't let this make you late!" Lana instantly believed Zac, and her arrogant expression returned. She gazed triumphantly at me, acting like she had everything in the bag. "Cruz, you think you can provoke me by bringing any woman here? Not a chance! If you don't agree to my terms, I won't marry you today!"

Lana Light streams through the stained glass window of the chapel. The bright yellow and gold of the sun that it shows, throwing warmth and flashes of light across the crowded benches of the nobility. A bold red dragon circles around the blazing centre. Nose to tail, as though it sleeps. With some of its scales picked out in rubies, set in the glass by magic. The King, Thade Madden, waits for his Bride at the end of the aisle, a shadow against the sun. Dressed more for a funeral than a wedding. I wonder if he knows I’m going to kill him.

"Breaking news! Bride loses her mind at billionaire wedding!" "Guess she wasn't meant for the high life. So close to marrying into money, and she snaps." Below the stage, guests in tailored suits crowded together. Some pulled out hidden cameras and started snapping photos nonstop, while others crouched in corners, clutching their heads and whispering prayers. All because, while Malcom Blair and I were exchanging vows just moments ago, I slapped him across the face, then dragged over a filthy man from the entrance who looked like a homeless drifter and kissed him in front of everyone.

Any that may impose would not live to see another day. “All hail her majesty the Queen.” A voice, none other than Drakko’s shot through. He lowered to one knee. He was wrapped in a white cloth with drawings all over his skin. He had been about to get sacrificed. On his side was his mate and children all seeming to have gone through the worst. “All hail her majesty the Queen!” All my people roared up, knees hitting the ground, them bending their heads. I stared at them all, my people. I turned my head, watching each of them as they called my name in praise, accepting me as their queen.

And he knows I won’t leave. Zayn's smile doesn't falter, but he reaches out for the untouched drink that was placed in front of him and he starts to swirl it around as he says, “She had green eyes. They sparkled wherever she went. She shone. She was rare. A true orohëk. But marrying the wrong man when you are a woman… well, it never ends well, does it?”

"I've made my decision. She will be my queen." For one suspended heartbeat, nothing happened at all. The candles didn't flicker. The crowd didn't breathe. And then thunder cracked overhead — sudden, violent, utterly wrong for a night that had been perfectly clear only moments before, the kind of sound that belonged to storms, not to clear skies over a palace garden. Pain seared through my shoulder like a brand pressed straight to the bone, and I bit back a cry as a mark bloomed beneath my skin, spreading like ink through water, gold light flickering just beneath the surface before settling into something permanent. The mate bond has been sealed.