Dragons Mating Stories Novels & Stories

It was unmistakably a nest. She had read about them in the old stories—whispered tales passed between girls too curious for their own good. Dragon males, they said, built nests not out of instinct alone, but out of intention. They were sacred places, prepared only for mates. Not temporary lovers. Not playthings. Mates. The kind dragons would kill to keep. It wasn’t just where they bred. It was where they bonded. Where they brought what they claimed. Where they surrendered the part of themselves even war could not scorch: softness.

It glowed with a celestial radiance that pushed back the shadows of the Citadel. Silas let out a roar of pure agony, dropping her. He fell to one knee, clutching his chest as his own tattoos turned from red to a blinding, holy white. "No!" Silas snarled, his voice a distorted mix of human and beast. "Not a wolf! I will not be mated to a golden-eyed cur!" The Dragon-Madness, usually a slow burn, spiked into a frenzy. His fingernails lengthened into obsidian talons. He lunged at Aria, his hand slamming into the stone wall behind her head, shattering the rock into dust.

I and Aragon were meant to bond, that way I'd be fully linked to him. Antares was like a physical manifestation of Aragon. Unlike we wolves who were two spirits one body, they are one body one spirit, but once in every millennia a high tier dragon would reach a certain height and would gain a chance to break through, granting him the powers to manifest its physical body. Their lives mostly depended on the success or failures of the breakthrough.

“Let them feel it. The war has already begun. I plan to marry Irmak and, through her, control the throne of FeWard. Her father, the king, is being slowly poisoned by your hand, Malachar. When he dies, I will be the regent. And if Irmak resists… well, a pyre cleanses a witch’s reputation very well.” General Draven slammed his fist on the table, more restrained than his lord. “My lord, the twin dragons are not mere monsters. Ancient reports say they are the sons of one of the Great Ancestral Dragons. If we provoke them openly, we may be bringing destruction upon the entire kingdom.” Vortigern turned to him with contempt. “Then we will destroy them first. Malachar, you said you have a plan.” Th

, nuz nust won’t kos able wa raise gein do niin since nust sizaan ney. Nuz because nust couldn’t raise niin, nust grew wa koraav pah creatures ol equals, ahrk nol til nust changed faal lein. (To the future vampdragon and werewolf's mate; we hope you will have better luck than we did. There is so much we need to tell you, but let's start from the beginning- My name is Martin and I'm a vampdragon, while my dragon's name is Dikais and my vampire’s name is Zaff. My mate's name is Agatha, and she's a werewolf. Her werewolf name is Alina; throughout the years vampdragons and werewolves could never be together, but I wanted that to change. So, I set out to look for my mate. Agatha wasn’t my first m

I repeated, hoping that he would tell me he was just kidding and we could laugh about this one day. “Yes, Andreena. I am a dragon and you are my mate.” Mate? What did that mean? Was it like how animals mated or was it what he had meant when he said that he had claimed me and I belonged to him? “You are mine.” He drawled out in that same rasping tone. The way that he said it, like there was no room for argument, like it was just something that I should already know. “Dragons aren’t real and I’m not yours.” I whispered, shaking my head.

I’m still wondering that when Fraser approaches, coming to stand at my side on the balcony overlooking nothing but miles upon miles of mountains with pearly, snow-capped peaks. My mouth moves before my mind has a chance to catch up. “Were you mated? Before everything?” Fraser exhales deeply, his eyes on the same horizon. “No.” “I’m sorry.” “I’m not.” He tucks his hands into his pockets. Dark circles line his eyes. He looks exhausted. I wonder if exhaustion is a thing for dragons, however, because his eyes are darkened by another emotion I can’t place. “Many a dragon lost their mates during the war that led to our near extinction. I’m the only fire dragon left. If I had a mate, which was rare

I'm tired of being lonely, and it sounds like she may be starting to give up. Wolves find their mates by smell. They can smell their mates from long distances. Dragons find their mates by touch. We have to shake their hand or touch them in some way to know if they are our mate. If a she-wolf seems to be locked on me, I am going to have to find a reason to shake her hand, or something, to find out if she is my mate. This should be interesting.

"I'm not doing anything. We are mates, so it is only natural for us to have this strong connection. It is far behind the point of lust. What we have is eternal. And even when we die, our souls will still recognise the other in our next life." "Is that how the mating thing really works? That means..." She trailed off. "Most times, depending on how long a dragon lives, and if they are lucky their mate gets reincarnated." "Maybe that can happen with my mother and father then." Catori nod. ''What are you talking about?" Rydstorm was genuinely confused. "Farrah, the woman I was telling you about, isn't my real mother. Catoriana was." Rydstorm visibly went ridged.

Kael Ashveyn is no ordinary dragon king; alpha blood runs through his veins, a legacy from the mother who broke tradition to love a wolf. So when the mate bond drags him to Sable Windmere, a weak, powerless omega from the territories his court despises, his pride refuses to accept her. He humiliates her, ignores her, treats her as beneath him until the bond forces something in him to notice every time she's hurt, every time she's disrespected, every time she flinches. His wolf won't let it go, even as his dragon fights to. Slowly, unwillingly, Kael starts to change. And Sable, who has spent her life believing she deserves nothing, starts to wonder if the king who once discarded her might be