Mr Draven Book Novels & Stories

Atticus swallowed an aborted growl at the discomfort his mate showed when the doctor began his examination. The doctor paused when he heard the aborted growl and looked over the sheet at Atticus, but the dragon king simply looked away. He knew if he spoke It would only scare the doctor since Draven was forward with him. Draven was itching to get out and make a snack out of the doctor. He didn't like it one bit where that doctor's hands were right now and wanted to bite those hands off. Atticus' body trembled as he fought Draven back.

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he offered, but Draven remained unmoving. "Okay then." Draven walked over to the old woman and made a sleek hand movement. She began coughing out blood. "Rayna?" Draven called and looked down on her. He had this indifferent look on his face, but his eyes showed something else. "So, take a seat". Draven finally sat in the chair Hazel was once tied to. "So, begin your sob story," Draven said with boredom. "Tch, you are a really funny guy. That's why I once liked you a lot. I am bisexual, by the way, but don't worry, I already lost interest in you.

Strange symbols had been carved into its surface, forming patterns Ava had never seen before. Even touching it sent a faint shiver through her fingers. “What language is this?” she asked quietly. Draven’s expression remained unreadable. “One older than wolves.” Cassian stepped closer, studying the book. “You’re giving her a spellbook?” Draven shrugged slightly. “I’m giving her knowledge.” Cassian’s gaze sharpened. “And why would you do that?” Draven met his eyes calmly. “Because if the curse truly connects her to the witch who created it…”

She had never been fucked so long and so thoroughly. As the clock struck four, Draven started to fade. He kissed her forehead one last time. “Call for me again when you need to be claimed, little one.” The library fell silent once more. Liora lay there among the books, covered in his cum, smiling at the ceiling. She already knew she would open that book again very soon.

Draven appeared for exactly thirty-seven seconds. He dropped from a hovering drone like a shadow, twin blades already drawn. The first Vorathian lost its head in a clean arc, black ichor spraying in a wide fan across the deck. The second tried to shift forms, bones cracking and reforming into something larger, something ancient, before Draven drove a blade through its eye socket and twisted. The creature convulsed, limbs jerking in grotesque spasms, before collapsing in a heap of half-melted flesh. He stood over it for a single breath, expression unreadable, checking for movement that never came.

Murmurs rippled through the group. "He's telling the truth," Kyle said quietly beside Natzy. She turned to him. "What?" "He's a genius," Kyle said, his gaze fixed on Naro. "He sees patterns most people don't." "A game?" Natzy repeated, skeptical. "VEDRAH is a trial ground," Kyle said. "We're judged here. Hunted by what we've done. The worst of what we are." Natzy's chest tightened. 'Hunted by my crimes.' The words echoed in her mind.

No power—no matter how divine, ancient, or corrupted—could work under its suppressive wave. Unless… Unless his power didn’t come from this world. Then came the sound. Not a laugh. Not a chuckle. A growl of a laugh, so deep and monstrous it shook the foundation of the hall. The walls cracked. Dust poured from the ceiling. Shadows recoiled. “Game time is over,” Draven said, his voice rippling with unholy energy. “I loved the entertainment… but let’s wrap this up, shall we?” We felt it—all of us did.

I raised my voice more than I was supposed to, my hands raised as well as if to calm him down but it was to calm myself down than Draven. "Fine! Let's do this..." I said 'But I know nothing about it.' I thought "Aveline, we don't have much time. We need to start practicing the little I found. It's getting late!" Draven shook me out of my thoughts, a rumble grew in my stomach when I heard it was getting late. The large door opened and a middle-aged female ran in with a big book that looked worn off in her hands. It looked like it hadn't been touched or seen the light of day in centuries.

Four of them total. Three are Silver Hunters, and the fourth ... is Sara Khalek. A gasp flies from my lips, and Davis shifts into his wolf form. "Sara." I rush to her side and feel her cheek. She's cold. She's been dead for many hours, maybe for days. Davis sniffs one of the bodies, his wolf lips curling back. "She put up a good fight." His bass werewolf voice echoes in the small room. I close my eyes against the tears. "Are there any others in here?"