Raya And The Last Dragon Fanfiction นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Either way, I was forced to stand there and watch as Caylan carried my new friend off to his 'Draygon lair'. "She will be fine, Mara. You know as well as I do, my little fyre, that a Draygon will do whatever it takes to make sure his mate gives him their heart," Tohr reminded me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed the top of my head. "Most of all, she is safe and protected." I nodded and sighed heavily, hoping one day she would forgive me for this. I felt as if I had to feed her to the wolves.

How did this man effortlessly throw her to the edge all the time? She straightened her posture and held her head up. None of them were going to embarrass her! Not Rayla, not Jonah, not her family and not the Greek god of a stranger that stood next to her. "Now that you're here, I was hoping you could play for our last dance." Rayla said, excited. Roxanne's eyes narrowed even as she almost choked on the wine which was halfway down her throat. What the hell? "Play what?" Roxanne asked, hoping she had misheard what Rayla had said.

They said their goodbyes to me and I to them, before they vanished down the stairs. When we were alone again, he turned to me with gentle eyes. “Come home with me Raya," he begged. His voice, his eyes, his hand on my face standing so close to him, I wanted to say yes. "You need to rest Rain,” I said instead. "You ran around so much tonight and it's late. You should go home, get some good sleep,”

[Carnelia] He must not know. He can't know. Especially now that I know how he feels about me. And how my feelings for him ended an entire village. I am the dragon. Or at least, I think I am. It's the only conclusion that makes sense. I can't remember anything from last night other than screaming over Leon's escapades and tearing off my clothing in rage. I never wanted to care about him, damn it, but the heart doesn't always give you a choice.

"But I'm going to find out. And until I do, you belong to me." Saoirse’s hands curled into fists in the horse’s mane. She would play his game. She would be his mute, stupid servant. She was the Last Dragon. He was the Viper. And he had just invited his own destruction into his home.

Vulcan and Anala, who had just arrived, gasped at the tribute given by Radcliff and Newton to the figure of a young boy who had black hair and red eyes. “It’s him, Vulcan!” shouted Anala while gasping. “I, Draco Black, the last Dragon Prince is willing to take your oath of allegiance, the Fire Salamander-incarnate Radcliff. Let's fight to awaken the dragons and protect Magica from harm,” Draco replied with an aura of majesty and graceful charisma.

There’s no making peace with the fact that I am too weak to continue fighting but refusing to leave her without saying what needs to be said. “I promise you, Demi. If it takes me a thousand years or more, I will see you again. I’ll get back to you and I’ll kill this motherfucker, and I’ll gladly walk-through hell to do it.” I turn my gaze towards Ares. Anger flashed in his eyes, and he moved to stomp my hands. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of making me let go, I released my grip on the factory floor. I held my hands out to my sides like I always do when I want to shift into my dragon, only this time I knew the change wouldn’t come. I held Demi’s gaze until the hole closed shut, plac

My wolf pressed against it, tail high, heart wild. When Wendrah’s hand fell away, my breath came hard, as if I had been running. “That is what waits,” she said, her voice low but fierce. “But it cannot rise on my will alone. It must rise on yours too. That is why I need you.” Damon’s hand found the small of my back, steadying me. His gaze swept my face, searching. “Rayna?” he asked quietly, only for me. I blinked, still tasting the vision on my tongue, still hearing the echo of children’s laughter. “I saw it, Damon. Everything. The city it could be. It looked like a dream. Our dream.”

His black hair soaking whilst his mouth was pressed against me, his tongue greedily lapping at the juices my body could not help producing in his presence. “Dex…” faintly escaped my lips as I reached a shuddering crescendo, wishing in the darkness of the room it didn’t have to be a fantasy. How long would it be before I forget the feel of his hands on my skin? Eventually he will forget and so will I, then what will be left of us, mere memories. I lie back on my bed and stare up at the ceiling as my breathing steadies, the haze of my mind clearing. /Jericho/ Raya suggests and I feel a leap of inspiration. How long until he comes again? Surely he must go to Fyrestone, or at least some other pa