Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Valen
I’ve been chained like a beast for a year.
Collared. Muzzled. Left to rot in a dungeon beneath the palace of my enemy.
But when his sister, a curvy little princess, offers me freedom in exchange for a favor, I listen.
She needs a dragon to fly her across the Poison Desert to save her dying mother.
And I need her blood to Shift.
But not just any bite will do.
I have to sink my fangs into her inner thigh—right next to her untouched, forbidden heat.
And when I do… she moans.
She tastes like magic…feels like destiny…and smells like MINE.
Now we’re bound together on a dangerous quest full of cursed forests, wicked witches, and ancient trials that force us closer with every step.
She was supposed to be a means to an end...
But now I’d burn down kingdoms to keep her.
Irena
They said the beast in the dungeon was dangerous.
They were right.
But I’m desperate—and the only way to save my mother is to make a deal with the terrifying man in chains.
He’s not just a man—he’s a Drake Shifter with claws, fangs, and eyes that glow like embers in the dark.
He says he can fly me across the desert…
But first, he demands my blood—and not from anywhere innocent.
He bites me on my thigh, and the pleasure is like fire licking across my skin.
Now I can feel him inside me… even when he’s not touching me.
I thought I was just using the beast to save my family.
But the longer we travel, the more I realize—he’s not the monster in this story.
And I’m not sure I want to be saved.
What to expect from Mistress of the Red
‣ Possessive dragon shifter hero
‣ Virgin princess heroine
‣ Magical blood-bond & biting (in very sensitive areas)
‣ Forced proximity quest fantasy (only 1 bed)
‣ Fated mates, enemies-to-lovers (he hates her...but he wants her)
‣ Monster romance with spice (because his Drake gets involved)
‣ Fairytale with heat (you won't believe what the wicked witch makes them do together)
*Doing it in Dragon form ; )
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
IRENA
We have a beast chained in our basement.
I say “basement” but it’s really more of a dungeon—a dank, dark space with stone walls so ancient and damp they have moss growing on them. The only light filters in from a gap in the stones high above, so narrow it can hardly be called a window. It smells of rot and the squeaking of rats can be heard along with the steady drip-drip-drip of water in a corner somewhere.
It’s cold down here—so cold it makes me shiver in my court gown, which is low cut—the better to show my shoulders and bosom to any possible suitors.
Not that I have any.
I am “too plump to be fashionable and not pretty enough to make up for it”—at least according to the other ladies of the Court, who like to smirk behind their fans at me. But none of them are with me now—none of those delicate, bird-boned Nobles with their pale skin and stick-thin figures would dare come down into the dungeon and see what I am seeing.
For standing in the middle of this grim place is the beast—the one I must tame.
I stand in the shadows and watch him…trying to work up the nerve to do what I must do. But my heart is pounding and the silver ring I wear on my right forefinger feels heavy and cold—filled with ominous promise.
He is huge—almost seven feet tall with muscular arms and a broad chest. Well, really all of him is muscular—a fact I can see well enough since he’s completely naked.
I am a gently bred lady—a princess, in fact. It’s wrong for me to look upon a naked man—and well I know it. My chaperone, Miss Mistral, would swallow her tongue if she knew what I am doing.
So, for propriety’s sake, I do my best not to look between the beast’s muscular thighs, where a long shadow hangs nearly to his knees. Instead, I try to concentrate on the top part of him.
He’s tall and broad shouldered, as I said, and he has long, tangled black hair that hangs down, covering part of his face. But I can still see his angry eyes through the strands—glowing red like living coals and filled with fury.
It’s no wonder the beast is angry—around his neck is a thick silver collar inscribed with runes which glow faintly blue with magic. It’s the same magic that imbues the chains which hold him prisoner. Joined to thick silver manacles around his wrists and ankles, the chains glow with runes as well…and so does the silver key I have clutched in my hand.
The key that can free him.
I can’t believe I’m contemplating this—that I’m actually thinking of freeing the beast and trying to tame him to my will. I must be mad.
You probably shouldn’t do this Irena, I lecture myself. It’s not safe—you don’t have the strength.
The silver ring on my finger throbs, as though in agreement with my thoughts.
But what choice do I have?
None.
As I stare at the bound and chained beast, my mind replays the conversation I overheard before dinner tonight, the conversation that convinced me this is my only course of action…
1
IRENA
“I am sorry, Your Highness, but I fear your Royal mother has not long to live.” The Head Healer’s voice sounds mournful—he loves my mother, as do all the people of our kingdom.
Good Queen Lorraina has ruled our land with a steady, even hand ever since the death of my father, King Ferrand, two years before. Her kindness and good judgment have earned her such sobriquets as “The Queen of Wisdom” and “Queen Lorraina the Just.” Truly, when she fell ill with the mysterious wasting sickness—the same one that carried my father off—the whole country knelt in prayer for her.
My older brother shakes his head sadly when he hears the Head Healer’s words.
“Ahh, why does death stalk those we love so dearly?” he asks, his voice laced with melancholy.
My brother is a fine figure of a man—he’s nearly ten years older than me and wisdom already sits upon his shoulders. He has silver-green eyes—as do all those of our Royal bloodline—and though he is not yet middle-aged, his sable hair is thinning at the temples. But that doesn’t lessen his attraction to the ladies at Court—all of whom hope to be his bride. Whoever wins that honor will instantly become a princess—or soon, if the healer’s words are true—the queen of all our lands.
But surely he must be wrong—I can’t lose both my father and my mother in the space of only two years, can I?
I choke back tears as I listen to them talk, well hidden in the shadow of the decorative statue of an angel, servant of the One True Goddess. It guards my mother’s rooms, white marble wings outspread, and makes an excellent hiding place for someone like me who wants to know the truth.