Memoirs Of A Dragon Novels & Stories

Trigger Warning Hello Lovely Readers, Thank you for taking the time to read A Baby for the Dragon. This book is a breeder kink one and has some talk of infertility with the main female lead but will result in a pregnancy for our dragon and his mate. There will be tons of unprotected sex and lots of dirty talk, the sex will be super graphic and if that’s not something you enjoy that’s okay. There are plenty of other books out there for you, just maybe not this one.

Hello, everyone! This is XSkylar19. It has been a very interesting ride for me while writing Bane of the Dragons because (fun fact) this was my very first dragon genre. I know some of you probably disliked how everything turned out or how fastpaced everything happened but know that this was intentional as I couldn't drag the story on. Anyway, while this book becomes the first book for dragon genre, it certainly wasn't my first book in the fantasy genre.

It curled the long black weight of its body in a loose ring around me — not touching, but close enough that I could feel the heat of its scales — and laid its head down across the entrance. I was not getting out. Mother had told me stories about this when I was small — dragons hoarding princesses the way magpies hoarded buttons, keeping them on piles of gold until only their bones remained. I had been five. I remembered thinking the moral was about greed. Now I wondered if it was about escape. I drew my knees up against my chest. My back hurt. My knee hurt where the bandage had soaked through. I waited for the dragon to do something. It only watched me from the cave mouth, its yellow eye hal

The Warlord hadn’t returned—not yet—but his staff had begun to circle her like vultures, as if they sensed how quickly her blood was warming to the rhythm of his realm. Sometimes she thought she could still feel him—like the brush of breath against her neck, the ghost of heat curling behind her ear. Have you ever seen a dragon’s rut? The memory made her jaw lock. It lingered on her skin like smoke. Like prophecy. The chamber doors opened.

I’m merely standing on his chest, a shell of the dragon I used to be. Other dragons' images have their tails possessively curled around the pectoral muscle or breast of their rider. Not me. My tail is curled around my own paws. I may have been claimed, but I feel none of the usual possessiveness of a fire dragon for their mate. I do what I’m told because I have to. When the doors to the King’s chamber open, Merellien spins around. “It’s about time,” he growls. “The King will see you now,” his Chancellor says.

He stopped mid-sentence, realizing just then that it was difficult to bring up what he had done. My heart was cold even as I watched him avert his eyes in embarrassment. Of course I remembered—the way he looked at me in disgust and every insult he slung at me before he finally abandoned me. All my delusions of family affection vaporized right then, but I pretended not to remember. I creased my brows as if it took me some effort to recall.

“Asrar is her lifeline. I never knew his prophecy but when he told me it reminded me of mine. Father told me it years ago before I met Desiree. I thought maybe she was the golden dragon. But when I marked her and she shifted she was blue. She has gold in a few of her scales and her wings membrane is gold. But she isn’t all gold. I however though maybe the prophecy was wrong and kept her close. “When I swooped in there was a gold dragon being attacked. Now I had no idea where it went thinking maybe one of these guys had a gift of making a dragon. I soon found that was not the case. We where so focused and her limp body none of us stopped to think. Desiree once told me she had to keep the gem

"She's a Witch!" The moment the gem slipped from my grasp, a sudden void consumed me, the magic dissipating with my relinquished hold. Stepping back from the booth, a profound stillness cloaked me as I observed the crowd converging. Panic etched itself onto the faces of men, women, and children alike. The murmurs of discontent swelled into an angry chorus, echoing through the air. In the distance, the clamor of approaching soldiers added urgency to the unfolding scene. A ripple of anxiety coursed through me as I trembled, gazing one final time at the old woman. "You glowed," she whispered. A mirror hung on a twisted post, and my reflection revealed tendrils of cerulean sparks dancing on my i

He was still holding her hand, too, but thankfully, the guards seemed to take their jobs too seriously to pay attention to that. It must be some rich merchant’s cart, Anzi thought, until she drew close to the side of the cart and stood there in stunned, paralyzed amazement. Impossible. Unthinkable. She had to be imagining things, utterly. But if she wasn’t—these were no mere merchant’s riches. Not even a king’s riches. These were beyond anything she could have ever imagined. Dragon mementos! Full claws, both rough and polished. Scintillating scales of every shape and size. Bony spines that might line a dragon’s neck frill. Dragon mementos—but how! Entire kingdoms would go to war for even a f

"No sedation needed this time. The child stopped screaming after the first incision.” My fingers went numb. I dropped the journal. It hit the floor with a muffled thump, the pages splaying open. There were more journals. Stacked haphazardly in a crate beneath the table. I pulled another one out, this time leather dyed blue. Gold initials on the spine. Someone had once been proud of this work. "Only a dragon can rule dragons. The blood must be bent, broken, reshaped. The Order fears me because I do what they will not. I evolve the breed."