Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Vast glacial blues that stretched beyond comprehension. Golds that burned like captured suns. Silvers that shimmered with the cold light of moons she had never seen. The colors moved through her—were her—and she floated in them without form, without fear, without the small cramped cage of a human body.
You are finally awake, something ancient whispered. You have always been here, sleeping beneath skin that was never meant to cage you for so long.
In the dream, she flew.
Not the awkward flailing of her first flight, but true flight—effortless, stunning, divine. Her wings carved through clouds. Her tail steered her through currents of wind that sang against her scales.
Below her, mountains bowed.
Above her, stars wheeled in greeting.
She was immense.
She was eternal.
She was a dragon.
And she was not alone.
Two shapes moved through the dream-sky beside her. One blazed gold and black, trailing fire that warmed the air around her wings. The other gleamed silver and shadow, breathing frost that matched her own.
Mates, the ancient voice purred. Yours. Claim them. Your ripening is here.
In the dream, she didn't fight it.
Korin reached her first.
His golden form blazed against the endless blue, scales rippling with inner fire as he curved his massive body around hers. She felt the heat of him—not burning, never burning, but warming her in places she hadn't known were cold.
His voice rumbled through her bones. "Little queen, we have waited so long."
And then Pyrran was there—behind her, above her, his silver form eclipsing the stars. Where Korin was heat, Pyrran was pressure.
Weight.
The cool certainty of moonlight on snow.
"Ours." Pyrran growled, and the word vibrated through her spine. "Finally, ours."
Sol should have been terrified.
Two ancient beasts, each one capable of swallowing her whole, pressing against her from both sides. Their wings tangled with hers. Their tails coiled around her haunches. Their breath—fire and frost—washed over her scales in alternating waves.
But this was a dream.
And in dreams, there was no fear.
Only want.
"Yes," she heard herself say—not in words, but in the language of dragons. A trill that rose from her throat, high, keening, and desperate. "Yes, please, I need this."
She felt them respond.
Korin's growl deepened to something feral. She felt his massive love sword emerge fully from its sheath—could feel the heat of it against her scales even before it touched her entrance. The length of him pressed against her slick folds, and she keened at the size.
Too big.
He was too big.
"You were made for us," Korin rumbled, as if hearing her fear. "Every inch of you was designed to take every inch of us."
Behind her, Pyrran's cool thickness found her other entrance—the tight, untouched place that clenched instinctively at the pressure. His silver essence leaked against her, cool and slick, easing the way even as her body trembled.
"Relax, little queen." Pyrran's voice was dark velvet against her spine. "Let us in. Let us fill what has been empty for so long."
Sol whimpered.
She could feel them both now—Korin's fire-hot cock notched against her soaked entrance, Pyrran's frost-cool length pressed against her tighter hole. The pressure was immense. Impossible. Her dragon body throbbed with need even as her mind screamed that this couldn't work, they were too large.
"You won't break," Korin promised. "You'll bloom."
They pushed into her at the same moment.
Sol's roar shattered the dream-sky.
The stretch was exquisite agony—Korin's thick, ridged cock forcing her open from behind, each scale-ridge dragging against her inner walls as he sank deeper and deeper and deeper. She felt every inch of him—felt her body struggle to accommodate his impossible girth, felt her slick walls flutter and clench and finally, finally yield.
And Pyrran. . ,
Oh gods, Pyrran.
His cool thickness breached her other entrance with relentless pressure, pushing past the tight ring of muscle, filling her in a place she'd never been filled. The frost of him soothed the burn of the stretch, and she sobbed at the sensation—pain and pleasure twisted together until she couldn't tell them apart.
"More," she heard herself beg. "Please, more, I need—"
They gave her more.
Korin drove deeper, his hips pressing against her haunches, his cock hitting depths that made stars explode behind her eyes. She felt the blunt head of him thrust against the sacred insides of her—some spot that sent lightning forking through her entire body.
Pyrran matched him, sinking fully into her tightest passage until she could feel his cool pelvis flush against her scales. She was stretched impossibly around both of them—stuffed full, claimed completely, every nerve ending screaming with sensation.
"So tight," Korin groaned, and his voice cracked with centuries of need. "Brother, she's so tight, I can feel you through her—"
"I feel you too." Pyrran's claws dug into her hips hard enough to bruise. "I feel everything. She's perfect. She's ours."
They were both fully seated now and floating in the sky.
Two dragon kings buried inside her to the hilt.
Sol couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Could only feel—the fire of Korin pulsing in her core, the frost of Pyrran throbbing in her depths, both of them stretching her so completely that she could feel them pressing against each other through the thin wall of flesh that separated them.