Mr Draven Book Novels & Stories

"It is Draven. He is fine." A pause. "Of course he is," Darius said quietly. The librarian spent the next ten minutes carefully examining the fallen shelf, the scattered books, and the damaged railing. Kael helped stack the books into neat piles. Several of them had fallen open to random pages, and as he collected them, one caught his eye. He picked it up. The title on the open page read: On The Nature of Probability Manipulation in Pre-Civilization Eryndor. Kael read the first paragraph.

, although draven doesnt say anything,he didn't have to I was pretty sure he was digging a hole in the back of my head and feasting on my brain " that will be the end for today" mrs storm says as she wraps her book and move out of the class my pen falls and rolls over as I bemd to pick it But someone gets to it already, I stand and stare as Draven tosses the pen inbetween his middle finger playing with it, to hell with the pen!! I storm out of the class happy it was still crowded, the first rule will I learnt with Draven is to never get trapped alone with him in the same place

Draven walked toward them like he was strolling into a meeting he had already won. His eyes were all gold now, his wolf pressing right up against the surface of him, barely contained. His crew appeared from the dark.... Joshua and six others, quiet and careful, moving like they had done this before because they had. Rodriguez looked up and went white the second he saw Draven. The kind of white that means the body already knows something the brain hasn't caught up to yet. "Mr. Craven, please....I just need more time...." "I gave you six months." Draven's voice came out flat and cold, stripped of everything human. "That was already generous."

Time to raid ye proper. I couldn’t speak. My mouth went dry. Before I could try, the vampire book glowed a soft red. Smoke curled out, cold and misty. Lord Draven appeared, his skin white as milk, long black hair falling over his shoulders. He had a fancy cape over a tight black shirt and pants that showed off his slim but strong build. Fangs peeked from his smile, and his eyes were blood red, locking on my throat. He sniffed the air slow, like a wolf.

Ardan PoV The day started with Draven standing at my door with his face as hard as stone. In his hand, he held a tiny, black book that contained his riddles and diagrams. I gestured towards the door, signalling him to come inside. “You look like hell,” I said sadly, pointing at the chair on the other side of the desk. “I’ve been having visions again,” he stated uncomfortably. The gravity of the situation was evident in his tone. “It’s about the relic.”

I place my hand over my mouth and gasped, “In that dream, your eyes changed. Turned reptilian. What you said now makes sense. You’re an alien.” “I am and more.” He lifts my hand to his lips kissing it. “Remember your red dragon?” I nod. “What if I told you I am a shapeshifter. A red dragon to be exact.” “What?” I whispered. “Do you remember that video of the green dragon?” “Yeah, but it was proven a fake.” “With the help of me and my four brothers. That first video is real, and it is my brother Mitchell. Each of my brothers' dragons is a different color. Mine happens to be red.”

I could feel my heartbeat syncing with the strange hum in the runes surrounding us. “Maybe,” I whispered, “but I’ll die standing.” Before any of them could reply, the air shifted heat flooding the chamber so suddenly that the runes flickered and went dim. The shadows rippled. Then he appeared. Draven stepped through the archway, wings half-unfurled, eyes burning molten gold. The sheer force of his presence sucked the air from the room. The other Alphas recoiled instinctively, power bristling between them. “Meeting without me?” he said, voice low and lethal. “How rude.”

The massive house crackles and spits, throwing still shadows over an ancient complex depicting wolf hunts and mass victories, but the warmth does not penetrate the ice precisely in my veins. Across from me, Draven stepped like a caged predator. His heavy boots hit the stone floor in a rhythm that matched my heartbeat. The firelight catches in his dark hair, highlighting the silver strands at his temples that were not there seven years ago. His jaw works below his skin. The muscles there are filled with tension.

Somewhere above, water dripped in steady rhythm, marking the passing of time she no longer wished to count. She pressed her forehead to her knees, whispering softly into the silence, “Sebastian…” Her wolf whimpered within, weak but alive…..bound by magic yet still reaching, still calling. The door creaked open. Draven stepped inside, his dark cloak brushing the floor like the whisper of death itself. His face was unreadable, carved in sharp lines of malice and strange calm. His eyes, though, carried something far more dangerous than anger obsession. “You’re stronger than I expected,” he said, his tone almost conversational. “Most would have begged by now. You… you still have fire.”

I smiled as I took in the beauty of the room… But then my smile slowly faded. Because I saw him— Draven. He was in ivory linen pants that were paired with a white long sleeve shirt that was crisp and clean, his shoes were brown, and his hair was well laid. He had a drink in one of his hands and the other was in his pocket as I watched him talk. Draven looked ethereal as for the first time in a while, I felt like I did when we were young. What if Elaris was right?