Slave of the Onyx Dragon
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Silver Taurus
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Game of Thrones meets Fifty Shades of Grey!
When Valkyrie is kidnapped by the ruler of all dragons, neither expects to discover they are mates. But Valkyrie’s touch is magic, it can heal or cause pain, and as their relationship develops from captive and captor to lovers, news of her powers travels. But are they a blessing or a curse? And will Valkyrie and her dragon king survive the coming storm?
Age Rating: 18+
Prologue
VALKYRIE
My sword lies defeated at my feet, reflecting the dark dragon scales shimmering in the firelight. A dragon descends from the midnight sky, landing just a few feet away.
The air is filled with the sounds of groans, screams, and cries. My vision is clouded by the ash from the fire.
I close my eyes, praying for help, begging for someone to come to our aid.
My body shakes as guards bind my hands and force me to my knees. But I can rise from the ashes like a lost warrior. I glance at my fallen sword, hoping it will give me the strength to fight back. My fiery red hair dances in the cold wind.
I stay still, not daring to move. A slight movement makes me lower my gaze.
Is this how I’m going to die?
But when I look up again, the beast is gone.
In its place stands a man with hair as black as night and golden eyes. He’s close enough for me to touch.
My eyes wander lower and see his perfect V.
He stands naked before me. How can a beast like him look like a god?
Flames emanate from him, but as his golden eyes pierce me, my heart pounds not in fear but anticipation. A feeling that makes me want to run into his arms.
A desire that makes me want to be his.
Is this hope?
“State your names,” the beast-man commands, pacing back and forth. There are only a few of us left. Most have perished.
His eyes scan the bodies around me. He’s clearly proud of his conquest. For a moment, he pauses, and we lock eyes as his gaze darkens.
Shaking his head, he exhales deeply before announcing ominously…
“Welcome to your new home. You are all now slaves of the Onyx Dragon.”
DIMITRI
Groaning, I shift on the bed. Something soft trails down from my neck to my chest. The touch feels strange against my skin. Growling softly, I turn and grab the bed sheets, pulling them closer.
The same sensation continues. Growing angry, I sit up and growl at the person next to me. Silver eyes look at me with fear.
Last night’s battle was exhausting. I needed to be alone. I needed to recover.
“Get the fuck out!” I growl. “Get lost!”
The naked woman next to me backs away and flees from the chamber. I hear a small sob as she closes the door. Groaning in anger, I sit on the edge of the bed. Another restless night.
Cracking my neck, I stand up and walk toward an opening in my chamber.
I can feel the anger rising from my heart. Taking a deep breath, I try to calm down. It’s not good for me to get angry. I don’t need to cause a scene early in the morning.
Stretching, I feel a presence behind me.
“I know you’re there; come forward,” I say with a scowl.
“It seems my dear brother is in a foul mood. Didn’t that woman give you a blow for breakfast?” the man with red eyes smirks.
“Damian, stop it,” I frown. “Tell me why you are here.”
“Just came to let you know the elders seek an audience with you,” Damian says, scowling, “they wish to speak to you about the Trollar slaves from last night’s battle.”
Trollar, a kingdom with dragon tamers. The rascals are so savage that they don’t even care for their own kind.
We’ve had several wars with that kingdom. Their need to overpower us is beyond any other. Especially their king.
King Gabriel, a ruthless and bloody bastard who even killed his own daughter for the pleasure of having a baby dragon in exchange. Beings like him shouldn’t exist.
“How many are there?” I ask.
Yesterday, I could barely make out their bodies through the ashy air. Although, I noticed a glimmer of red through the dust and the smoke.
“Not many,” Damian answers, “ten, maybe fifteen.”
“We can kill them. I wouldn’t mind killing the annoying ones at least,” Damian suggests, his eyes glimmering with sinister delight.
We were so different, him and I. He was always so quick to condemn people to death, while I liked to take my time.
“Let’s go speak to the council,” I say, turning away and heading down the long passage.
I am the king of the dragons, Dimitri. My younger brother Damian is my right hand, and my best friend Leo is the general of our horde.
We live on Mount Errigal, a vast range of mountains that extends to the border of the Trollar Kingdom.
For the last twenty-six years, we have been at war. The greedy bastards hunt my kind just to get our hearts.
Our hearts are valuable. Anyone with enough money could get their hands on one. Especially tamers and sorcerers.
A dragon heart gives the owner a unique power, like an overwhelming desire. Your mind could pick something you desire and join it with the heart’s dragon, turning it into magic or a weapon.
Many people from the Trollar Kingdom have gained dragons’ hearts. But for the last four years, they haven’t been able to.
The reason is that we have the helping hand of a sorcerer. One that we captured, but pledged his loyalty to us.
I asked him why once, but he said that he needed to hide his identity. So, I didn’t intrude more and let it be. Unfortunately, I felt that he was hiding something that no one should know.
Opening the two enormous golden double doors, I walk in. A soft growl vibrates in my chest. The elders glare at me, looking offended.
“Your Majesty, welcome,” one of the elders bows.
“Get to the point,” I spit, taking a seat on the golden throne that could fit two others like me.
“We have word that the Trollar Kingdom is willing to let us keep the slaves as a gift, with no retaliation,” the elder with green eyes says. “They wish to bargain scales this time.”
I rest my face on my hand as I lean back and relax. So King Gabriel wants an exchange for scales? I scoff as I look at the other elders.
“Strange,” I mutter, “King Gabriel wouldn’t agree to that. Are you guys hiding something else from me?”
The elders all share a look, except for one—my grandfather. His frown makes him look his age, despite our slow aging process.
His hazel eyes meet mine, and the room falls silent under the weight of the tension.
“Got something on your mind?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.
My grandfather, Elder Jerium, is one of the oldest dragons still breathing. He was once a king, a respected leader and guardian of our horde until my late father took over.
My father passed away a few decades later, leaving me as his successor.
Elder Jerium was one of the few who spoke his mind, but his words always sparked intense debates.
I keep my gaze locked on his hazel eyes. For a brief moment, I see his eyes falter, but his stoic face quickly masks it. I tap on the throne, waiting for him to speak.
“I think you should kill them all. Leave no survivors,” Elder Jerium suggests, a smirk spreading across his face.
“They need to learn we don’t negotiate easily. Especially not for mere slaves.”
I hum in response to his suggestion. It’s not a bad idea to show we won’t be pushed around.
“If I may, I agree with Elder Jerium,” another elder chimes in, “We don’t owe them anything. They’re just being greedy.”
The elders immediately start bickering. I feel a twitch in my eye from annoyance. Cracking my neck, I slam my hand on the arm of the throne.
“Enough!” I command. “I’ll make the decision. Now get out.”
Everyone’s eyes widen. I take a few deep breaths. My brother Damian watches me, ready to step in if necessary.
Seeing that no one moves, I rise and exit the throne room, Damian trailing behind me.
“Brother, you need to chill out,” Damian advises, standing beside me.
I open and close my hands, trying to tame the beast within. Being without a mate for the past few decades is taking a toll on me. A dragon can’t be mateless for too long.
He needs his other half, his everything. The one who can soothe the beast he is.
But I haven’t found that person. I’ve searched every town, every village, every kingdom, even other hordes. Nothing.
The longing for my other half is becoming unbearable. Sleepless nights filled with yearning for a taste of my mate.
I’ve fucked countless women, humans, beasts, but nothing. It never quells the burning desire deep within me.
My mind is consumed with hate, vengeance, and darkness. A devouring feeling that’s making me lose my grip on sanity. A simple argument made me shift.
And with each passing day, my mind becomes more beast, less human.
“Follow me,” I command. “Let’s see what kind of slaves we have in our dungeons.”
