The Alpha's Dragon

“Tell me you feel it,” he murmured against her ear.

The man’s breath brushed her neck as her dark and green hair splayed wide across the fur like bed. Slow. Intentional. Each exhale trembled like he was tasting restraint. He nipped.

“Tell me you crave it,” he murmured again, his voice heavy with lust, his lips gliding down her neck in fevered pace.

His voice was deep, rough, silky ....the kind that crawled beneath the skin and licked at the edges of reason. His fingers traced down her arm, calloused yet reverent, drawing fire wherever they touched. She could smell him — rich earthy, woody sensual thickness of a predator barely holding back his bite.

Her body knew the rhythm before her mind caught up. Her pulse fluttered; her spine arched of its own accord.

“I don’t even know you,” she whispered, breath catching as his hand slid to her hip then moved behind to grope her ass. Hard, rhythmical.

“You will,” he promised.

His lips sucked on her throat, as his tongue twirled, leaving a burning sensation that crawled to her folds.

His name faded through her mind like smoke as she grabbed his ass in return. His chuckle light, he pressed her back against stone, caging her in shadow and scent.

He tilted her chin up, eyes glowing as he bent to her breasts

“Suck? Lap? Or devour,” he said softly and her breath hitched. Heat coiled low, unbearable.

She wanted to stop him, but his mouth descended before she could choose, claiming her with a fevered kiss that seared through dream.

Fru gasped awake.

Her eyes flew open to the dull light of dawn. Her heart was galloping like she’d run miles, her body slick with sweat.

“What in nine hells…” she muttered, sitting up too fast. Her sheets clung to her skin, heat still pulsing between her thighs.

The dream had felt too real.

She pressed her palms to her face, mortified by the ache simmering in her body. It was just a dream. Not even hers, apparently.

Maybe it was just...vivid imagination. Reading about mating rituals the night before must have backfired. So much for boredom.

Shoving the thought aside, Fru swung her legs off the cot and reached for her training gear. Her sword lay where she’d dropped it last night. She grabbed it with more force than necessary, hoping that sweat and pain would burn out the remnants of the dream.

The training yard reeked of sweat and iron. Fru’s arms burned as she swung her practice sword again and again into the battered oak post. She wasn’t the strongest in her unit, nor the fastest, but she was the most stubborn, even when her palms split and her shoulders trembled.

"I'm tired of it all" she whispered to the air, as she plopped to the ground, staring up at the sky, with one hand still holding her sword and another holding her lap. Would she continue being so mediocre? Her eyes glanced around tiredly as if searching for a moment pleasure to take her mind off all her worries

That was when she saw a slim volume, left carelessly on the stone ledge by the archery racks. Its cover caught the last flare of sunlight; dark leather, too fine for any trainee to own, stamped with an emblem she did not recognize: a coiled dragon, its tail devouring itself, scales shimmering faint green as though alive.

Fru frowned as she muttered to herself

"The library rarely allowed such books into circulation, especially ones marked with sigils. Who owns this?" She wiped her brow and reached for it, curiosity overriding the tired protest of her muscles. The title was etched in bold silver runes:

The Fate of a Dragon.

She traced the letters with her fingertips, a shiver crawling down her spine. A tragedy, the blurb on the back declared.

"Urgh. I'm already having a nasty day, do I really want to make it worse?" She dropped the book but didn't walk too far before she stopped and turned back. Her eyes narrowing suspiciously, she picked up the book again and looked at the blurb once more.

"The story of a half-blood dragon who lived unloved, unwanted and destined to fall under the weight of her own power." Fru almost laughed. Why does this sound like her series of applications to different guilds. Tragedies were not her taste because she had seen enough of it in her life.

"Give me a heroine who marches through worlds and conquer hehehe" Fru smirked at her own imagination.

"It looks interesting though, what's one more tragedy to the list" she said that but she didn't want to admit her inability to resist reading the book.

It...called to her.

She sat on the steps, sword now placed across her knees, as she opened the book.

The words spilled into her mind like sunflower seeds.

Valia Rostrag.

A dragon who was incomplete. Hair black as night, kissed with streaks of impossible green, eyes like oceans that could drown a kingdom.

"She seems pretty..." Fru blushed "Born from a red dragon and a golden dragon...whoa..she sure has the good genes doesn't she. Why would anyone call someone so pretty, huthra'vor? I feel this is jealousy at play. Petty creatures. Pretty sure the mockers are the ones with faces that screamed ‘abandoned by the creator', not Valia." Fru didn't understand why she was mad but she sure as hell wanted to test her fighting skills on some uglies.

"Mocked by her sister, hated by her mother, cast aside by a people who prized bloodline over strength. And yet, none of them could compare to her brute strength. Are they really not ashamed of themselves? A strong woman is sexy! Humph" Fru couldn't believe someone who had everything could be mocked for not transforming into a lizard. Crazy species.

"It's so frustrating seeing the self esteem of an all powerful dragon crumble because of gossip. Such a rare fate for a prideful dragon"

Fru’s heart hammered as she read. Each page unfurled cruelty and artistic beauty in equal measure: Valia shoved into snake pits, her body broken, her voice erupting into destruction that shattered the earth. The girl’s cries, twisted by grief into lethal power, became both curse and salvation.

"So...crushing." a gasp escaped Fru's lips as water filled her lower eyelids.

Her throat tightened. She didn't know why she cared so much, but Valia’s pain gripped her like a hand around the lungs.

She flipped another page. And Another. She could not stop.

By the tenth chapter, the world around Fru had begun to shift.

"What in gods' name of craziness is going on..." Fru whispered, as she struggled to stand straight. Her eyes darting around her.

The sound of crickets dulled into silence.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa" Fru's mouth rounded in disbelief as the ink in the book rippled beneath her gaze, words liquefying into an emerald glow.

"I want you stable right now" her mouth pursed with desperation as she tried to will the pulsing book between her hand to calm.

"Oh gods, what the hell am I doing. Am I going crazy after all?" Fru's right hand rubbed her face, as the book glowed more fiercely, firm in its disobedience.The courtyard melted away, swallowed by shadows and flame.

Fru's eyes swerved overhead as she watched the leaves slow in motion. The scent of charred earth filled her nose, the air thick with heat.

“No—” Fru whispered, clutching the book in her arms tighter. But the pages dissolved into firelight, as she grappled at the pieces.

Fru could feel a pressure sucking her into a space she couldn't see. She placed her leg firmly on the ground, pulling back against the force to no avail.

"Someone, hel-" a gust of wind knocked air out her lungs before she could scream. Her body lurched forward as the pressure sucked her through a veil.