Night of the Drakoryans by Ava Sinclair

Night of the Drakoryans

A Reverse Harem Dragon Fantasy

from Ava Sinclair.

Buy Link ->-> https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079WK6BW8/

Night of the Drakoryans cover

Three dragon lords. One reluctant maiden.

And only one long night to claim her.

Syrene does not come to Altar Rock as a willing sacrifice. Angered by her village’s eagerness to give her to the dragons, she seeks to escape. But the dragon who comes for her isn’t having it; he takes her anyway, and carries her home to share as mate with his shifter brothers.

Now the Lords of Jo’Lyn wonder if they haven’t made a mistake. Syrene is as defiant of them as she was of the village she believes rejected her. She swears she will not give herself to even one Drakoryan lord, let alone three.

But the three dominant dragon shifters will not be refused. With the survival of their bloodline hanging in the balance, they are determined to find creative ways to woo their wild mate before the sun rises once more over the empire.

Now available ->-> https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079WK6BW8/

He takes me to a balcony. I clutch the cape around my shoulders, for the air is chill. It is pitch dark.

“I thought you said we could see the moon from here.”

“And so you will.” He points to some clouds, smoky black against the indigo blue of the sky. They drift along, changing shape as they go. Then the shimmering moon emerges, brightening the sky.

I am amazed by the intensity of the glow. “How could something so bright hide itself?”

“Sometimes a shadow can be so heavy that we forget the brilliance behind it.” He looks down at me and the flutter I felt earlier returns. I know he is not talking about the moon now. “The best things are often hidden, Syrene of Arkney.” He reaches for my elbow and I tense as he pivots me towards him. “Will you not allow me to show you some of what your old life kept hidden? You are strong. You are smart. These are things I already sense. You are far better than the people you left behind. I think, down deep, you know this. I think you have always known this…”

“I know nothing.” I drop my eyes. Compliments are harder to accept than gifts. But the man before me persists.

“I do not believe that, Syrene. I believe you have grown comfortable with one way of being. You have allowed anger to carve a path into your soul, and you traverse that path in an endless loop. Let me guide you out of it. Let me help you carve other paths to wonder, paths to pleasure. Do you not see that these things are your birthright?”

No one has ever spoken to me like this. No one has ever told me I deserve anything other than misery and scorn. But this man, this powerful lord who, along with his brothers, commands dragons, is telling me that happiness is my destiny, that I am worthy of all the things I believed I would never have.

“I can’t,” I begin, but he puts a finger to my lips. “You can.” He smiles, and my heart lurches. No man in my village had such a handsome face. He pauses. “Syrene. Let me show you but a taste of what’s been hidden from you. I will not persist beyond what you allow.”

He moves his hand from my lip to the front of my cape, parting the fabric. The chill of the night moves through my gown, hardening my nipples to aching, up-thrust peaks. Then Lord Edrys brushes one through the fabric, his hand warm against the tight little nub. The contact makes it throb, and a tiny whimper of hidden need escapes from between my parted lips.

His large hand cups my breast now, squeezing firmly, and the throb I felt shifts lower, to between my thighs, like an itch, only different. It’s more like an ache that wants for something…contact, perhaps pressure. I am frustrated. I do not know what it is my body asks for as his other hand moves to the slight flare of my belly and then lower. The swelling ache in my core intensifies as his fingers descend, and when his hand reaches the top of the soft mound of my womanhood, feel a tiny ripple in my core. I cry out and leap away, pulling my cape around me.

“What was that?” I demand to know. I can still feel the residual quivering, as if his touch is still there. “What is it you do to me?”

“That,” Lord Edrys says, “is a woman’s pleasure. Did no one ever speak to you of such things?”

Variety is the spice of life and Ava Sinclair writes a little something for everyone, from dark romance to menage to kinky AF age play. But the one thing that is consistent in her books are strong storylines, alpha males, and strong women whose hearts and bodies aren’t given up without a fight.

Ava lives in southern Virginia, where she enjoys hoarding books, hiking, running, spoiling her cats, and spending time with her Eurasian eagle owl, Lucius.

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