Novel & Cerita Rhaenyra Targaryen X Reader

There was something about her, that unpolished submission waiting to be shaped, that intrigued him beyond the usual fleeting interests. Their eyes met accidentally as she glanced his way, drawn perhaps by the magnetic pull of his presence. His stare was intense, piercing, unyielding—like he could unravel every guarded secret she held with a single, probing gaze. Kyra's heart pounded erratically in her chest, a flush creeping up her neck and warming her face. She quickly looked away, flustered and overwhelmed, her drink sloshing slightly in her unsteady hand as she turned to escape his scrutiny.

“Convergence, bridge of realms, you seek the blade. Prove your worth, or perish.” My wings unfurl, lunar light flaring, but the construct’s gaze pierces me, and the forge shifts. I’m no longer in the citadel—I’m in a Conclave chamber, centuries ago, Elara’s lunar mark glowing, her voice pleading. “Don’t trust Taryn,” she says, her amber-silver eyes meeting Jorah’s. “His Veilbinder pact with Voren will doom us.” Jorah’s aura, primal and steady, falters as Taryn steps from the shadows, his blade striking Elara’s heart. She falls, silver blood pooling, and Jorah roars, claws slashing, but Taryn’s shadows overwhelm him. I scream, my claws slashing air, but it’s a vision, a memory, and the constr

Valor smiled, "You really are something, wish I had some of that magic though." Aynyra chuckled and rubbed the back of her neck, "There is something I have to tell you though." He grabbed her hand sympathetically, "What is it?" "You know Nira? Well, she has magic. Her real name is Rhaenyx Maltalor and she's an assassin. I met her a while back in the streets, she and her friend Kaia showed me some kindness and helped me out. She was so powerful back then, I mean physically skilled. The greatest fighter I ever met. When she turned up at the palace and married our father, I didn't know how to react. Then I went to her room, she kissed me, or well, we kissed. Then just recently I found her by th

Something about the handwriting on the front made her stop breathing. No… It couldn’t be. She hurried back to her room and locked the door and her fingers shook as she unfolded the letter. The first line stole the air from her lungs. Nyra… She knew that handwriting, she had seen it hundreds of times. Years ago. “Draven…” His name slipped from her lips before she could stop herself. She kept reading. “I know I have no right to write to you,”a tear rolled down her cheek. “You told me never to come back, you told me you didn’t want me anymore, you were right.”

" Two of my men advanced, their touch gentle on her. They carried her into the middle of the room, all eyes upon her. But only mine mattered. The spark between us was fierce and electric, something no other human could feel. I spoke low, doing it for her alone. "This is Lyra of Ravengarde. The last of her line. By conquest and force of will, she is mine… my spoils, my property." I did not look away from her eyes. "Every breath she ever draws again is by my permission. Never you forget that." She hardened herself, her heart pounding in her throat so rapidly I could clearly see it. Refusal flamed in her eyes like fire, and she glared at me.

At that point, I wish I had a family who I could turn to but there was no one. He carried me on his shoulders and climbed the stairs to our room. Inside, he flinged in on the bed and ordered me to remove my clothes. I didn't obey him immediately and I paid for that with a slap on my face. " Take off your clothes Arya!" I obeyed and took off everything, I laid on the bed naked. He gasped immediately he saw me as he rushed and whispered into my ears, "You look forever tempting, Arya." I held back my tears and used the fact that he was my husband to comfort myself and had every right to my body. The next moment, he was already riding me satisfying his sexual pleasure while I fought to control m

**Trigger warning. Proceed with caution. Rae’s POV I’m huddling in a corner, terrified out of my mind. I can hear him coming. Hades. I don’t know how long I have been here. It feels like forever. I know what he wants. He wants an heir. I can’t feel my wolf nor can I reach out to my mates. My heart is shattered. Since he has brought me here, I have cleaned until my fingers bleed. He makes sure that I take a shower or a bath every day. He tells me that I will give him an heir. After all, I am now his little slave. His gorgeous slave, he says.

Livia wanted to fan herself, to stop long enough to fully appreciate the vision Rhye made—hot and sweaty, energized from the fight, his beautiful eyes dark with the same lust she felt. With the white tattoos swirling over his skin, his full beard, and his long, mahogany hair hanging loose around his shoulders, he appeared every bit a warrior, like he’d walked right out of the pages of a romance novel. They wore a path in the mat, circling each other, both tempting the other to make a move, until Rhye lunged for her in a blur, so fast she barely saw the movement, barely realized his intention until his strong arms locked around her body like a vise, and he took her down.

The kind that said a piece had just moved on a board he’d assumed was fixed. “You want to know who I am?” she asked. “Fine. Let me be clear, on the record, where your stenographers and your future historians can’t pretend I whispered it. “I am Lyra Hale. I am a surgeon. I am a wolf. I am the mother of a pup. You would happily turn into a political pawn if I let you. I am the woman Aiden Voss broke when he chose your crown over our bond—and the one who learned to set her own bones after that.”

Like he never looked too closely at what it was made of. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he chose not to. I push the thought down. This isn't the moment for it. "Tell me again," I say. "What you are. What this place made you." Nyra turns to look at me. In the ruin's pale light, Kael Draven's careful restraint-trained mate is something else entirely. The silver in her hair catches the light of the markings on the stone, and for a moment she looks less like a woman standing in a clearing and more like something the clearing grew around.