The Twin Dragons Series: Dragon's Pet
Author
C. Swallow
Reads
1.2M
Chapters
39
Minx is a tiny Dragon with a huge, psycho rage. She’s happy to travel alone, scaring those around her with her venomous fire and lethal speed. But being born a warrior never prepared her to handle two mates. The Twin Dragon Lords, Rawk and Zoraul, no longer see eye to eye…and they both want to catch her first.
Chapter 1
Minx
“Don’t you dare run off with my gold, Fire-Spitter, or I’ll report you!”
The Tempest trader is one of the gutsiest mortals I’ve ever come across—I’m genuinely impressed.
But, despite the rarity of a mortal not losing their cool around my kind in the Tempest Lands, I can’t help but curse my rotten luck.
The last thing I need is a man threatening to report me; I’ve already got enough people on my case around here.
Usually, I save my intimidation tactics for Dragons, mages, or those pesky Blood Ravens, but now I have to give this mortal a taste of it, “I’ll come back and eat you before you get the chance to report me to anyone, old man.”
I let a slow smile spread across my face as my slightly elongated fangs, even in human form, drip with venom.
“Good day to you—you troublesome pest!” he hollers after me, and despite the muttered insult at the end, I know he’ll let me go.
I nod, smirking as I dash down the cobblestone street, already dusted with delicate snowflakes as winter begins to creep in under the gloomy, overcast skies.
I clutch the stolen bag of gold tightly in my fist as I run, a familiar sense of dread creeping up my spine.
I’m being watched.
Navigating the frosty street, I don’t feel the cold too much. I might only be wearing black leather pants, a leather bra, and a furry hat made from a rabbit I hunted myself, but I’m comfortable.
I slow my pace as I blend into a crowd of peasants leaving the weekly auctions at Town Hall.
In the Tempest Lands, even mortals own other mortals as slaves—it’s not just the Tempest Dragon Breeds or mages.
I lose myself in the crowd, swiping a few items from startled mortals who notice the Fire-Spitter tattoo on my chin.
At the edge of the crowd, I sneak into an alleyway leading to a side door of a sauna.
I slip inside and nearly collide with white-haired Lotus, my friend.
“Move, please.” I place my hand on his shoulder and push him aside as I skip past him to the receptionist and toss the money bag at the owner.
“I’m not waiting, it’s my turn!” I breeze past the glaring mortals and dart through the smooth-tiled corridors until I find my favorite spot.
I love to bathe, and the lakes in the Tempest Lands are no fun. They’re teeming with creatures much larger than me. I find an empty sauna and spa—a natural hot spring pool.
Dragons can mist from Dragon form to human form and vice versa, so I mist out of my clothes instead of painstakingly removing them.
As the material floats to the tiles, I solidify back into my human form, dive into the spa headfirst, and resurface, laughing in relief.
“You’re as wild as ever,” Lotus comments from the doorway, looking at me with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “You overpaid the owner—again.”
“I like the spa, go away, girls only.” I wave Lotus off with my hand, and he shrugs and turns to leave, but not before he pauses and looks over his shoulder.
“What other girls, Minx? It’s just you.”
“Go. Away.” I wave him off again, and the moment he leaves I sink into the hot water until it reaches my chin.
I sigh and let some sense seep back into me.
I’m not as wild as I used to be, I’m much more “normal” now.
But the Tempest Lands are dangerous, and Fire-Spitters are known for their bloodthirsty rages and unpredictable, irrational actions.
So I know how to play the part, but I’m much more laid-back now that I’ve come of age.
I just don’t like to show it—even to Lotus, my only friend.
He’s a mortal hunter. He likes to hunt rabbits and saw me feasting on one when I couldn’t find any other food in the snowy forests.
He’s a couple of years older than me and mostly kind, but a bit dull.
I met him yesterday.
Yeah, I’m not great at making long-term friends.
But there’s a reason I can’t enjoy the company of others: I’m always on the run.
Those eyes I felt on me in the street, I’ve felt them on me off and on for years now.
Every now and then, I’ll catch a glimpse of either twin in the distance. Rawk and Zoraul.
I shudder in disgust as I think of my mate’s names. They scare me—because of what they represent. Ownership.
I was once a pet to a princess Shadow Assassin. Amadahy was kind over the years but she still owned me and referred to me as her pet.
I spent years thinking we were friends, and then I found out she only really kept me around for my Dragon Breed.
I am a Bellum Minima Dominus—a little warlord. I can command other Fire-Spitters into war. I was more useful to Amadahy than anything else.
I had a fight with her about it four years ago, when I was fourteen, and I left to go my own way.
I certainly wasn’t afraid of my purpose, however, for if a war was needed, I would help lead.
But there was no war, and I just wanted freedom to find out who I am on my own. Unfortunately, when I met Lotus yesterday, I turned eighteen.
Eighteen is the age that my mates are going to claim me—they leave notes for me every now and then.
Now the Twin Leading Breeds, Rawk and Zoraul, could appear any second. But I’m not ready to submit to anyone… I don’t know if I’ll ever be.
I sit up in my private sauna and gaze at my reflection in the water. My green eyes contrast with my dark violet hair, while my teeth are as white as ever—my fangs sharp.
I narrow my eyes at my reflection in the water. I have no idea if I’m attractive or not.
I mean, my breasts are small and I’m not sure I have curves—but that’s another thing to do with my breed.
I’m as small as my tiny purple Dragon when I shift.
My mates, Rawk and Zoraul, have a heritage that’s downright terrifying. They’re not just any Silver Breeds.
They’re the only sons of the Legendary Shadow in the Sky, Storm, a Dragon Legend who’s been around for seven hundred years.
I met them for the first time four years ago, in the company of other friends.
I was teased for throwing a fit. When I found out Rawk and Zoraul were my mates, I ran off into the forest, screaming.
Back then, Rawk and Zoraul tracked me down. The memory is still so clear in my mind.
I’m hiding under a fern, crying into my shaking hands, my face pressed into the dirt. I hear footsteps getting closer and slowing down.
I’ve run so far, I’m too tired to shift into my Dragon form. So, I just huddle there—scared, crying, and terrified.
”Little Fire-Spitter,” Rawk says. His voice is tense and annoyed, but he’s trying to be gentle. “Stop crying?”
Zoraul doesn’t touch me, but he leans forward and reaches out. I look up and snap at him, a wild little creature at fourteen.
”Don’t touch me, Tempest scum!” I scream at them both. They back off, exchanging worried looks.
”Calm down and trust us, little Minx,” Zoraul says. “Let’s walk you back.” He squats and holds out a hand. “Come on…”
Finally, I whimper and reach out in defeat.
What happened next is a bit blurry because they betrayed my young trust.
Zoraul held me and lied to me while Rawk pressed a handful of his fire to my lower back. It didn’t hurt, but it left a permanent mark of ownership to keep other Dragons away.
They claimed me early on for that very reason. I pulled away from them and ran off again.
That was the last time I saw my lying mates in person.
I frown at my reflection, thinking about the notes they sent afterward—threats to claim me the moment I was old enough.
But I’m determined that I’m not a pet and I never will be. Never.
“Hey…Minxy?” Lotus appears in the open doorway, holding a bag of chocolates. “Compliments from the owner for your extra gold…”
“Oh, my Sky Gods, is that chocolate?” I whisper excitedly—but then I gasp as Lotus suddenly looks like he’s in pain.
He dramatically drops the bag, and it hits the floor. Blood seems to be dripping from his stomach, and there’s a mysterious hole in his tunic.
As Lotus lies moaning on the floor, a mirage enters the private room.
A sword materializes, and the mirage holding it steps silently to the left…as another mirage appears to the right.
I blink, and the two mirages turn into my worst nightmares.
My mates.
I’m stunned by how different they look—older, taller, and more intimidating.
Zoraul is holding the sword, wearing brown leather pants. His long, bright silver hair flows behind him.
A black scar stretches across his chest and shoulder.
The mirage on the right solidifies into Rawk, who has burnt silver hair that’s just as long as Zoraul’s but even wilder.
He’s wearing gray leather pants and has a smaller, jagged black scar across his face.
They both have the same intense gold eyes.
As I’m taking in their massive size, something unexpected happens.
Zoraul turns to Rawk in surprise, and Rawk turns to Zoraul with an equally shocked expression.
“Leave,” Zoraul says slowly, “you’re not needed. Go back to your Horde, brother.”
My mouth opens and closes as I hear the bitterness in his voice when he says that once cherished word.
Rawk laughs loudly, turning to his brother as he pulls out two short swords from the straps on his back.
“Zoraul, because I look just like the legendary Storm, people fear me…with good reason. Now, step aside and there won’t be any bloodshed.”
“Maybe you should put your toothpicks away before you embarrass yourself in front of our mate, brother,” Zoraul says calmly, rolling his eyes. “You don’t belong here.”
“How funny, I was about to say the same thing to you…since you’re just a coward who doesn’t deserve a mate,” Rawk snarls, clearly referring to some past conflict between them.
Zoraul finally loses his cool after appearing unfazed the whole time.
I slip out of the water as they start fighting. Zoraul swings first, Rawk defends, then lunges while Zoraul dodges.
While they’re caught up in their intense hatred for each other, I get dressed and back up toward a second door at my end of the sauna and spa room.
I watch as each brother twirls, strikes, and defends, each as formidable as the other.
I wish I could stay longer to admire their massive bodies—and their graceful fighting, which is…admittedly…very attractive, at least to someone like me.
I try not to dwell on my reaction to their fighting.
And so I leave, with a new understanding: Rawk and Zoraul are no longer friends or close twins.
They’re rivals.
