Laith took off his boots and set them next to a tree. "We've been here since the dawn of time. We're no' going anywhere, Rhys. We're supposed to be protecting the humans, remember?""The humans doona want our protection. We sent our dragons away for them, and for what purpose? To hide who we are, to forget the fierce magic that runs through our veins?
Did not learned men, too, hold, till within the last twenty-five years, that a flying dragon was an impossible monster? And do we not now know that there are hundreds of them found fossil up and down the world? People call them Pterodactyles: but that is only because they are ashamed to call them flying dragons, after denying so long that flying dragons could exist.
You've walked the woods today. Tell me there isna something about this land that doesna take hold of you and sink into your verra soul."Her smile slowly faded. "It did. How did you know?""You were born here, Iona.You were part of this land, just as it's a part of you. You've been gone a long time, but it still remembers you. You just needed to remember it.
Being with him did strange, twisty things to my insides. My dragon instincts did not approve; they still didn't like this human with his amazing reflexes and bright, intense eyes. The eyes of a predator. But there was another part of me that couldn't resist. And the thought of never seeing him again was unfathomable. Even if I knew it was probably for the best.
He rose up over her, intending to enter her when she suddenly sat up and shoved at his shoulders. He fell onto his back with a grunt. Shara was on all fours, her hair tousled, as she crawled toward him.In all his millennia of life, he had never seen anything so sexy. His cock twitched, and her gaze lowered to his engorged arousal.” ― Donna Grant, Burning Desire
And why does Father want me out there?You do know it’s a myth what they say about virgin sacrifices and dragons,yes?”“Of course I know that,” he snapped in such a way that Dagmar knewhe believed the myth to be true. “And after them three marriages, you ain’tmuch of a virgin yourself, now is ya?”“Those last two barely counted.
He is dangerous," Alton said, his voice rough.She parted her lips to refute his claim. His heated gaze studied her mouth.For a moment, she thought he wanted to kiss her. At the dining table. In front of her brother. Cook, who had just entered the dining hall with a tray full of fresh sourdough rolls. And one human prisoner. For one insane moment, she wanted him to. Kiss her.
You have the effrontery to be squeamish, it thought at him. But we were dragons. We were supposed to be cruel, cunning, heartless and terrible. But this much I can tell you, you ape – the great face pressed even closer, so that Wonse was staring into the pitiless depths of his eyes – we never burned and tortured and ripped one another apart and called it morality.
She's just being sensitive. You put a girl in jail and forget about her for a few months, and they all take it so bloody personally.""You forgot about her?""She's lucky I did. She'd been sent to kill Rhiannon.""Then why isn't she dead?"Celyn sighed. "It was a sad, weak attempt, really. She clearly didn't want to do it. Auntie Rhiannon just felt bad for her.
Saphira waved her tail, the tip whistling loudly. "I'm not asking you to. However, if we attack first, we may gain the advantage." "Have you gone crazy? They'll..." Eragon's voice trailed off as he thought about it. "They won't be able to do a thing." "Exactly," said Saphira. "We can inflict lots of damage from a safe height." "Let's drop rocks on them!
She stared at the bullwhip coiled Indiana Jones-style at his narrow waist, then at the black-handled dagger sheathed on his right hip. An obsidian rapier--Fae-forged and unbreakable--almost merged with one of the taped seams that ran down the sides of his pants. He even wore a dagger gunslinger-style at his hip. Dear Goddess, the man was a walking arsenal, but he was sexy as hell.
Now, I pray you, cast yourself into a different world, a different trail of thought; step into a place where dragons live and breathe, where they are as real in touch and voice as you or I. Where they face the same extinction every day that they have suffered in our world: the extinction of myth . . . yet where they battle every moment to fend off such a fate for another day . . .
Never stray from your own kind, Jessen,” my mother would say, “or you could end up like Princess Morga, a slave and outcast to be abhorred.”The problem was, I’d never been a very obedient daughter. Never the one to do exactly as I was told. And fairy tales have no meaning when the stars align and Fortune spins her wheel, weaving her own story for your heart.
How should we be able to forget those myths that are at the beginning of all peoples, the myths about dragons that at the last moment turn into princesses; perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.
Before she could move or even think, the male shifted to his human form. Bran stood there, all six feet four inches of sexy, pissed off male. His expression was one of pure rage as he stepped toward her. Not that this stopped her from checking out every single naked inch of him. And the man was built. All those hard lines and striations looked as if he'd been carved from marble.
