The Dragon's Mistress Novels & Stories

Mistress – A Tainted Identity Part 2 Author’s POV "Look at her attitude, highly as if she is a princess of somewhere whereas she is just his mistress, bed warmer bitch” “Do you remember how proud her father used to be on how beautiful his daughter is, now see she is using her beauty to seduce a man who can satisfy her branded needs" "I would rather die than become someone's mistress, flitty piece of shit” “What a piece of meat she is, I want to fuck her raw and rough”

His mistress, a woman wearing a red nightgown with dainty features, was preparing to have dinner when she found herself in this room with Alex. “Alex?” she called him softly and crawled to hide behind him. “Who are you?” he asked in a low voice. “Someone you should be scared of always,” Brishor replied, as jade green spiked rippled from his shoulders and upper arm. “I am the Dragon King of Galdere, and this is my General, Chezzal.” Alex gasped. So scared he was that his bladder released and his pants became wet. And his mistress—she became unconscious.

But this clan was showered by greed, the hatred of the Mistress passed on to them; their strength became a threat to the peace in Pasithea, so Selene was once again prompted to intervene. The Mistress had enough, though. She no longer cared about the bond between them. Using her mighty clan, she waged a war against Selene, but before the strength of Selene and Henmulga’s children, the Mistress found that her only choice was to yield. Betraying her kin, she fleed and had long been gone. No one knew where she was; however, there were rumors that she dwelled in the darkness, where the light of Selene couldn’t tap her hatred.

Ona had been the one to show me that it was a history of sorts, a retelling of the foundations of the master lines from which all other dragon varieties diverge, "What if I were to tell you that Oestre had no mate?" He pulls out another book, one bound in black fabric and sewn with silver thread. "That the mother of us all was herself a universal dragon. A lone traveler from another universe who dreamed this realm into reality." Bringing the book to a table he opens it to reveal a wonderous illustration. Etched in metallic ink, it shows a beautiful golden dragon surrounded by shadow. "Oestre wasn't the first dragon. She was the last one," he reads the symbols on the edge of the pages, a lang

I state dry. A Dragon mistress is a rare creature and all species feared them, even the Dragons so they killed them all one by one. That was the first and last time all species worked together to remove a threat from the eye of earth. " Well I guess my work here wasn't necessary after all" I say with a mischievous laugh. " what do you mean? You came here and told us that I am dying and that I have to connect to my power?!" the little girl ask.

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I’m a grownup woman. “Interesting.” Nathan is following me. “I hate you. Don’t humiliate me.” “I’m not, it’s just fun to watch you and Arthur play like a secret lover but the truth is you’re not.” I rolled my eyes and manage to escape him. It’s not like I don’t know that. Can’t he just not ruin the fun? I know it’s not fun being a mistress or being the other woman but I’m enjoying my setup with Arthur plus his wife and him are clearly over from the look of it so technically he’s just married in the paper.

I only feel warm, it's like I'm only enjoying the water in a hot spring rather than a pool of blazing lava. "I haven't tried this yet but I hope this will work. Raja was the one who gave me the idea." Lancelot narrowed his eyes. "Raja? Who is he?" "He is my dragon." "Oh! So you are a dragon summoner? He asked with amazement. "Yes. A fire dragon summoner and the Mistress of Fire. Amazing, isn't she?" Lucia said proudly as if we had been friends since childhood rather than for barely a few days. "Indeed, she is. Amazing... very amazing," Lancelot said.

Hardly attire befitting a Draken’s wife, let alone one about to undergo a sacred ceremony. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. She just needed to endure this, to get through the ordeal quickly, then she could find Rhyzar and demand to know the truth about the looming war. She had seen too much destruction already, and if she could persuade him to choose the most peaceful path, she had to try. But then she saw it—the sight that made the murmuring voices fade into nothing. The altar. At its base stood a golden statue, its beauty unparalleled. “That’s the dragon’s mate,” the priestess murmured beside her, nodding toward the breathtaking figure. “The woman who bore the first Draken and g

He could breathe fire and also breath ice. Lastly was a pure white dragon, the smallest of the three. The young dragon did not land on the ground before transforming and launching herself at one of the twins. Mist was hyperactive, being the last born of prince Xander/Malachai, she was the last of the three musketeers. Ah yes, the Musketeers. A werewolf princess, a dragon princess and a royal nagini. Emerson, Mist and Mya were destructive when put together. Mist was the youngest of the three, Emerson being fourteen, Mya thirteen and Mist, twelve.