Minx is a tiny Dragon with a huge, psycho rage. She’s happy to travel alone, scaring those around her with her venomous fire and lethal speed. But being born a warrior never prepared her to handle two mates. The Twin Dragon Lords, Rawk and Zoraul, no longer see eye to eye…and they both want to catch her first.
Age Rating: 18+
Dragon’s Pet by C. Swallow is now available to read on the Galatea app! Read the first two chapters below, or download Galatea for the full experience.
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“Don’t you dare take off with my gold, Fire-Spitter, or I’ll report you!”
The Tempest trader is one of the bravest mortals I’ve ever met—I’m impressed.
However, despite it being a rare encounter with a mortal to actually not shit their pants around my type of breed in the Tempest Lands, I can’t believe my ill-fated luck.
I don’t have time to deal with a man eager to report me to anyone; I’m in trouble with too many people around here already.
I usually reserve my scare tactics for Dragons, mages, or pesky Blood Ravens, but now I have to treat the mortal before me to a little surprise, “I’ll come back and eat you before you report me to anyone, old man.”
I smile very slowly while my slightly longer fangs, even in human form, drip with venom.
“Good day to you—you pesky filth!” he yells out after me, and I know even in spite of the murmured insult at the end, he will allow me to escape.
I nod, smirking as I run down the cobbled street, already covered in pretty snowflakes as winter starts to settle in from the morbid and constant overcast skies above.
I hold the stolen bag of gold tight in my fist as I run with that dreaded feeling shooting up the back of my spine.
There are eyes on me.
Heading through the chilly street, I don’t feel the cold too badly. I might only be wearing black leather pants, a leather bra, and a furry hat made from a rabbit I slaughtered carefully myself, but I’m fine.
I now slow down as I head into a crowd of peasants who are busy leaving the weekly auctions from Town Hall.
In the Tempest Lands, even the mortals own other mortals as slaves—it’s not just the Tempest Dragon Breeds or mages.
I get lost in the crowd here, pickpocketing a few disgruntled, scared mortals, when they witness the Fire-Spitter tattoo on my chin.
At the edge of the crowd, I slyly make my way into an alleyway toward a side door that leads to a sauna.
I slip inside and nearly ram right into white-haired Lotus, my friend.
“Move, please.” I put my hand on his shoulder and push him aside as I hop by to the receptionist and throw the money bag at the owner.
“I’m not waiting, it’s my turn!” I flitter past annoying glaring mortals to run through the smooth-tiled corridors, until I find my favorite place.
I loved to bathe and the lakes in the Tempest Lands are no fun. They’re full of monsters much larger than me. I find an empty sauna and spa—a natural hot spring pool.
Dragons can mist from Dragon form to human form and vice versa, so I mist out of my clothes instead of tediously prying the pieces off.
As the material floats to the tiles, I solidify as my human form once again, dunk into the spa headfirst, and come up for air, laughing in relief.
“You’re crazy, as usual,” Lotus speaks from the doorway, looking at me with exasperation. “You overpaid the owner—again.”
“I like the spa, go away, girls only.” I shoo Lotus off with my hand, and he shrugs and turns to walk out, but not before he pauses and looks over his shoulder.
“What other girls, Minx? It’s just you.”
“Go. Away.” I shoo him off again, and the moment he leaves I sink into the hot water until it touches my chin.
I sigh and let some sense creep back into me.
I’m not truly as crazy as I used to be, I’m far more “normal” now.
However, the Tempest Lands are dangerous, and Fire-Spitters are appreciated for their bloodthirsty rages and unspeakable, illogical actions.
So I know how to act the part, but I am far more mellow now that I have come of age.
I just don’t like to show it—even to Lotus, my only friend.
He is a mortal hunter. He likes to kill rabbits and saw me feasting into one when I couldn’t find any other food out in the snowy forests.
He’s a couple of years older than me and mostly kind, but sort of lame.
I met him yesterday.
Yeah, I don’t really know how to make long-term friends.
But there’s a reason I can’t enjoy the company of others: I’m always on the run.
Those eyes I felt on me in the street I have felt on my body off and on for years now.
Occasionally I’ll catch a glimpse of either twin in the far distance. Rawk and Zoraul.
I shiver in disgust as I think of my mate’s names. They scare me—because of what they mean. Ownership.
I was once a pet to a princess Shadow Assassin. Amadahy was kind over the years but she still had ownership of me and referred to me as her pet.
I spent years thinking we were friends, and then I found out she only really kept me around for my Dragon Breed.
I am a Bellum Minima Dominus—a little warlord. I can command other Fire-Spitters into war. I was of use to Amadahy more than anything else.
I had a fight with her about it four years ago, when I was fourteen, and I left to go my own way.
I certainly was not afraid of my purpose, however, for if a war was needed, I would help lead.
But there was no war, and I just wanted freedom to find out who I am on my own. Unfortunately, when I met Lotus yesterday, I turned eighteen.
Eighteen is the age that my mates are going to claim me—they leave notes for me every now and then.
Now the Twin Leading Breeds, Rawk and Zoraul, could appear any second. But I’m not ready to submit to anyone… I don’t know if I’ll ever be.
I sit up in my private sauna and gaze at my reflection in the water. My green eyes complement my very dark violet hair, while my teeth are as white as ever—my fangs sharp.
I narrow my eyes at myself in the water. I have no idea if I’m attractive or not.
I mean, my breasts have grown out minimally and I’m not sure I have curves—but that’s another thing to do with my breed.
I’m as small as my tiny purple Dragon when I shift.
My mates, however, have a ridiculously terrifying heritage. Rawk and Zoraul aren’t just Silver Breeds.
They are the only sons of the Legendary Shadow in the Sky, Storm, a seven-hundred-year-old Dragon Legend.
I had one encounter with my mates four years ago, when I met them surrounded by other friends.
I was made fun of for having a tantrum. I ended up running off screaming into the forest after I was told Rawk and Zoraul were my mates.
Back then, Rawk and Zoraul tracked me down. The memory is still so vivid for me.
I hide under a fern, crying into my trembling hands, face down into the dirt as I hear footsteps slowing and getting closer.
I’ve run so far, I am too exhausted to even mist to my Dragon form. Instead, I huddle—scared, crying, and terrified.
”Little Fire-Spitter,” Rawk says, sounding on edge and irritated, but he tries to be kind. “Stop crying?”
While he does not touch me, Zoraul leans forward and reaches out to me. I look up and snap at him, a feral little monster at fourteen.
”Don’t touch me, Tempest scum!” I scream at both of them. I’m surprised when they back off, sharing concerned looks.
”Calm down and trust in us, little Minx,” Zoraul suggests. “Let’s walk you back.” He squats and holds out a hand. “Come on…”
I eventually whimper and reach out in defeat.
The rest is hazy because they then betrayed my young trust.
Zoraul held me and lied to me as Rawk pressed a handful of his fire to my lower back. It was painless but it forever left a mark of ownership to ward off other Dragons.
They claimed me early on for such a purpose. I pulled from their grasp and ran off once again.
That’s the last physical encounter I’ve had with my lying mates.
I frown at my reflection, thinking of the notes they sent afterward—threatening to reel me in the moment I am old enough to claim.
However, I am adamant that I am not a pet and I will never be one. Ever.
“Hey…Minxy?” Lotus pops back up in the open doorway, holding a bag of chocolates. “Compliments from the owner for your extra gold…”
“Oh, my Sky Gods, is that really chocolate?” I whisper in delight—but I gasp as Lotus looks to suddenly be in pain.
He dramatically drops the bag, and it hits the floor as blood appears to drip from his stomach—a mysterious hole has also suddenly appeared through his tunic.
As Lotus lies in a moaning heap, a mirage has entered the private room.
A sword solidifies and the mirage holding it steps silently to the left…as another mirage appears to the right.
I blink and the two mirages become my worst nightmares.
I’m shocked that they look completely different—older, taller, and more fearsome.
Zoraul is holding the sword, and he’s wearing brown leather pants with his long mane of bright silver hair wisping behind him.
A black scar runs across his entire chest and shoulder.
The right mirage slowly solidifies into giant Rawk, who has burnt silver hair, just as long as Zoraul but even more untamed.
He’s wearing gray leather pants and has a smaller jagged black scar, but it lies across his face.
They both share the same intense gold eyes.
As I’m simply taking in their sheer size, the unexpected happens.
Zoraul turns to Rawk in surprise as Rawk also turns to Zoraul with an equal reaction of disbelief.
“Leave,” Zoraul drawls, “you’re not needed. Go back to your Horde, brother.”
My mouth opens and closes as I hear the hate in his voice with that once beloved term.
Rawk laughs loudly, turning to his brother while whipping out two short swords from the straps across his back.
“Zoraul, you know because I am the very spitting image of the legendary Storm, it’s the very reason I will always be the Lord. People fear me…with good reason. Now, step out and there will be no need for blood.”
“Perhaps you should put your toothpicks away before you embarrass yourself in front of our mate, brother.” Zoraul rolls his eyes, adding calmly, “You do not belong here.”
“How appropriate, I was about to say exactly the same thing to you…since you’re just a coward who doesn’t deserve a mate to breed with,” Rawk snarls, clearly referring to a past issue between them.
Zoraul cracks after appearing hardly fazed the whole time.
I slip out of the water as they clash together, fighting one another. Zoraul swings first, Rawk defends then lunges while Zoraul dodges.
While they are in the throes of passionate hate, I get dressed and I back up toward a second door on my end of the sauna and spa room.
I watch as each brother twirls and strikes and defends, equally as tough as the other.
I wish I could stay longer to gaze at their monstrous-sized bodies—and their graceful fighting, which is…admittedly…very attractive, at least to someone like me.
I try not to think about my reaction too much in regard to the way they fight.
And so I leave, with new, profound knowledge in hand: that Rawk and Zoraul are no longer friends or close twins.
They are rivals.
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There is something about escaping into a snowy forest that makes “escape” fun. What I mean by that is something entirely different than hiding from the enemy.
I don’t hide from anyone. Nor do I always fight.
One bite from my poisonous fangs could kill any Dragon, mortal, or mage—the most boring possible outcome.
I am also a fierce fighter in either mortal or Dragon form. I can outrun and outsmart any being. Hence, I’ve often made my escapes more into ventures of provocation.
Basically, I like to trick, thieve, confuse, and tease any self-identified predator.
I often have enemies naturally, as my breed of Dragon is despised by basically everyone.
I am a little bundle of power, speed, and precision, and I can even spit poisonous fire. I might be tiny but I am lethal—in many ways.
With these attributes, everyone often assumes most Fire-Spitters are dangerous, and with our violent mental states, we are also seen as crazy.
And hell yeah, we are…but often only when we are young. The moment we come of age, when we mellow, we become more stable.
I am usually far more relaxed than I used to be. I used to kill needlessly and provoke others just for the fun of it.
Now? I am secretly… How do I admit this? Lonely. Okay? I am lonely.
No, not for my annoying mates. I just want company. Any kind of friend would do. However, girls don’t seem to like me and most boys are too scared of me.
And Lotus? He’s dead. Because, of course, Zoraul had to needlessly slaughter a male friend of mine…probably because he is male or because he had seen me naked.
Such a reaction is due to my mate’s Tempest Breed and their upbringing.
Despite me running through all of the Tempest Lands to avoid my mates—I hated the Tempest Lands because I hated Tempest Breeds.
“Cave-Dragons,” I murmur to myself from a snowy tree I’ve climbed, nearing the top branches where they start to get a bit thin.
I’ve been watching the town just below the slope I ascended. While the town is buzzing with activity, some hunters have gone into the forest…
And then I eventually see two giant Silver Breeds rise above the town and swoop toward my location. Their exact forms are mirages but I catch a glimpse of their sizes.
Absolutely massive. Next to the twin brothers, I would appear equivalent to the size of a mere mouse.
Now their mirages mist to silver dust, magical and sparkly as they magically appear as humans right under my tree.
Perfect. I had left a clear scent trail to my hiding spot on purpose. I watch now as each twin solidifies too close to one another.
Rawk and Zoraul barely brush shoulders, but it’s enough for them to slowly turn to each other and glare with all the hate they can muster.
Both have bloody foreheads from getting a nick in on one another with their weapons. Before, of course, they had to go track me down because I actually escaped.
As they look up together, I slowly smile down at them, locking eyes with my mates.
I’m leaning off the branch, my purple hair hanging, my eyes wide and happy as I prepare to slide to the next branch below me.
Both of them watch me with narrowed eyes as I innocently slide down to the branch a little bit closer to them.
As I do so, my hand keeps a firm hold of the branch I was once occupying, holding it at a steady tension.
As I let it go, a torrential fall of heavy snow slips off the pine leaves and plummets to the brothers.
“Ha ha!” I shriek with laughter as I jump to my feet and hop along a few branches to run to the nearby trees. I watch them both trip into the snow.
I hear them snarl out, and as they swipe the snow off and run after me to the next neighboring tree, I simply kick a few more branches, perfectly timed.
I get a few more snowy falls to grace my Twin Dragon Lords’ shoulders before they realize running into the snow after me under the foliage isn’t going to work.
Neither am I going to stop laughing.
The moment both twins begin to shift, I also shift, grabbing my clothes with my claws. I swoop out of my tree and fly like a sparrow between the tight-forming trees as my purple Dragon.
I know with their natural sizes they will only manage to stay as their Dragon forms above the forest or down below where the pines are further spaced apart.
Is this how you greet your mates? Zoraul asks me, exasperated.
You are Tempest lying scum bags, the both of you. I connect to each mind boldly and snarl at them.
Deep down, however, I am filled with an unexpected joy. It’s fun playing with my mates! If I could do this every day, maybe I could tolerate them keeping me company.
We could play chase all day—that’s something I am willing to consider. They could be my pets!
Just as I think that, I seem to get an ice-cold avalanche on my back. I’m shocked as my wings cannot hold me up and I plummet to the snowy ground.
As I somersault to a painful stop, my tail just rolls over my eyes before I land on my back—and I see multiple trees around me bent, broken, and destroyed.
The minimal sun is blocked out by the massive silver-scaled Dragons looking down at me.
To my right, Rawk takes up almost my entire vision, his wings outstretched, his talons slicing through the trees he’s balancing upon.
I know this is him because of the black scar—far prettier on his Dragon face than his human form.
Zoraul is balancing upon the trees to the left, his black scar jagged across his stomach toward his wing.
It is their true defining difference besides Rawk being a burnt silver and Zoraul a bright, brilliant silver.
And now, with my wings surely leaving a Dragon–snow angel figure behind me, and my mates perched above in the slaughtered trees, I have my moment of feeling like a mouse.
After they landed on the trees above and stopped my flight by using my own trick against me, I am now trapped looking up at them with a silly snarl on my Dragon face.
At least neither of you are stupid. I try to distract them as I roll to my feet and arch my back like a cat, trying to appear scary as I hold out my wings.
I prance around, spitting my deadly fire out in a warning.
I expect my display to be terrifying—I haven’t met one being on this planet who didn’t run screaming when they saw my war dance before I went in for the kill. Fire-Spitters are famous for it.
I growl loudly, my tail striking back and forth in a violent dance of its own.
Rawk and Zoraul pause. Then they both burst out laughing.
Their rumbled laughs and chuckles fill my mind, as they lift their wings and tilt their Dragon snouts, peering in at me like I am the funniest thing they’ve ever witnessed.
If mocking my venomous fire is the last thing you’ll ever do, that’s not on me, Tempest scum, I snarl at them, lowering my wings and my snout, readying myself to strike.
Dancing like a scared rat. Zoraul tilts his head farther to the side as he assesses me. Continue, mate, it is pleasing to the senses to see something so wildly untamed.
With Zoraul’s words, Rawk lashes out his huge head, his teeth snapping together as he makes Zoraul tumble backward off his perch.
I snort fire out of my nose as Zoraul crashes through ten or so trees. While he tries to find his feet, Rawk mists suddenly. He closes the distance blindingly fast.
He transforms into a fully clothed mortal form right in front of me. Despite how giant Rawk is, I lift my Dragon head until it’s level with his and I stare right into his golden, amused eyes.
“Unlike my brother, I do not encourage such mischief,” Rawk explains in a deep drawl. My eyes focus upon the jagged black scar and ruined features that once may have been handsome.
Yet now they are tainted by the black scar. I’ve always wondered how each twin received such strange and violent markings.
I do not answer Rawk as I wait for him to proposition me. I’ll listen, for a little while.
“Should you choose me, Minx, I will teach you how to realize the beauty in your life— how to analyze the possibilities as my mate.”
Rawk reaches out a hand to my snout, and I snort at him as he simply touches a finger to my nose. One touch—and my magic recoils from the sheer strength of his.
It is like nothing I have ever felt, and suddenly I am shrinking and transforming into my mortal form.
On all fours and very much naked, I quickly swipe up my clothes I brought with me and hold them protectively over my chest as I stay kneeling on the ground.
I don’t mind pretending to be even smaller—as if I have begun to submit. It’s all I need to bring their guard down right before I take them both out—before they take me away.
I see a strange fire in Rawk’s eyes in response to my kneeling position and I just pretend to appear terrified.
“Pretentious, as always.” Zoraul suddenly appears just behind Rawk, also in his clothed human form.
Those pesky bastards had been taught the rare power of misting in and out of their clothes. I have no idea how they do it.
“And you,” I say, “you murder for fun? Lotus was my man friend. You stuck him through the middle…like a kebab. I like kebabs but I don’t like my friends being kebabs.”
I snarl this and Zoraul squats down before me while Rawk just rolls his eyes, tapping his foot impatiently.
“Say your speech and go, you pathetic fool,” Rawk mocks his twin while Zoraul blinks away the insults, staring right into my eyes, on my level.
“Little Minx, if you choose Rawk, you will be his Student of Feeling. Do you know what that is?” Zoraul asks.
“He’ll teach you how to feel everything you don’t want to. But me? If you choose me, Minx, you can be my Student of Disobedience.”
“Why that?” I ask, plainly. However, as Zoraul tries to shuffle closer, I snarl, “Do not try to trick me,” and I hear Rawk snort in disbelief at me or his twin or both of us, I’m not sure.
“Why disobedience?” Zoraul responds.
“Why not, Minx? We can travel together, not tied down to any Horde. We can see sights most mortals will never see, we can go on quests for treasure… Don’t you like treasure?”
“Only Twin Breeds like shiny things,” I murmur quietly. “Both propositions are funny… I like funny. I will decide in a year.” I slowly raise a brow at both of them.
I appreciate that both mates have not tried to manhandle me or kidnap me in any way yet. The fact that both have tried to proposition me has helped bring me some form of confidence.
“Waiting for another year, watching from the shadows, waiting for you to rile up the wrong fight where you get yourself killed?” Rawk retorts, completely disregarding my offer.
“You’re a reckless beast that needs to be tamed.”
Whoa. Not okay.
“I. Am. A. Woman!” I jump to my feet, dropping my clothes. I stand fully naked but now I stand completely proud.
It’s the one thing I can’t stand to hear—that I am a beast. I hate that insult. Ever since I had my first blood a couple of years ago, before I turned sixteen, I had developed a few…mental issues.
I suddenly hated anyone insulting my femininity. I am still a female and I am proud of it. I do not want to be called a beast.
I wait in my proud glory, as each mate assesses me for my physical worth in this moment. Both look consumed for a moment in time. But as they both decide to reply, I wait impatiently for a compliment.
“You look like a kid,” Rawk growls, guarded.
“Threatened by the beauty of our mate?” Zoraul scoffs at his brother. “I can see your aura, you fool—you have always been a terrible liar.”
“You have always been too good with lies. Which is better—being a bad liar or a good one?” Rawk chuckles as he appreciates his own smart words. He is clearly very arrogant. “Minx?”
“Kid?” I whisper. Despite the conversation, I am offended by his first comment.
“You think I look like a child? I am eighteen full winters old and I am extremely feminine. I don’t drool when I eat raw flesh anymore and I no longer rip apart my meals. I consume them proper, unlike the fledglings my age. You are a fool, Rawk.”
I turn to Zoraul next. “You were jealous of a mortal man, weak and lame perhaps, but he was still my man friend. You, both of you, are not my mates.”
I point between them, snarling, “You are both pathetic. You will wait a year and proposition me with something better than ‘Student of this’ and ‘Student of that.’ I care not for your stupid games. I make the games…”
I reach down for my clothes and hold them in my fist as I slowly back up into the snow, creating distance as I smirk, “And I do not play yours.”
I continue to back up, using my ferocious and forceful words to hopefully get them to back off too. Perhaps, at least I secretly hope, they’ll start fighting.
There is nothing more attractive and nothing I have ever witnessed that has made my blood warm like the way they move.
I bite my lip, hoping for it…foolishly forgetting that as Silver Breeds they have extreme empathy.
They can read, simply with their eyes, the color of my aura and, therefore, my feelings—and sometimes, even thoughts—if the thoughts stemming from my emotions are strong enough.
“Oh, darling,” Rawk pouts and smiles, “you are so cute, I could eat you right now.”
“She did not choose you, do not even think about taking her or touching her.” Zoraul steps forward, putting up his hand to Rawk and holding out a hand to me. “Be my Student of Disobedience.”
I pause as I back off. I have one more question. “If I am a student to one of you,” I ask, “what does that make either of you?”
“Master,” they both say at the same time, and as they do, they share irritated looks with one another for being so perfectly in sync.
Clearly the fools despised how well they were together—and preferred to keep the hate alive.
“Excuse me?” I ask, tilting my head and pretending to put forward my ear. “Did you say…Master?” I slowly take steps toward them.
My decision is final. Running is no longer an option. I will not tolerate hearing the word Master, not even the mere utterance of it.
“As your mates, we are your Masters…regardless of consequence,” Zoraul speaks reasonably while Rawk nods.
“He speaks the truth…now we simply need her choice…and it seems my little darling is changing her mind?” Rawk asks me, trying to be as smooth as his brother and sounding a little silly for it.
“Our, darling,” Zoraul murmurs under his breath, and each brother is momentarily distracted by my slow steps toward them.
They are unaware I am stalking them. I am not approaching them for discussions any longer.
Each twin shares a look—a mere glimpse—of recognition of a better time long ago. Perhaps even love… I use this to my advantage.
I latch onto Rawk’s arm and sink my teeth into his shoulder, swinging my body around him as I land, crouched behind him, before I pounce again.
Zoraul tries to dodge but I grab a fistful of his long hair. I jerk him toward me and I manage to wrap my teeth into his thigh as I slide across the snow.
Both lethal bites will probably kill my mates.
I do not care.
As I slide to my feet gracefully and turn to put my hands on my hips, I watch each brother grimace, scowl, and hunch with the slow-spreading venom that will eventually make their blood rot to black.
“I gave you both my biggest dose,” I whisper.
“Welcome to my games—if you survive. And Rawk? I want you to know…if I had to choose, I would have chosen Zoraul. No one tames me. No one. I will pray for you in the other realm—when you’re both dead. Now I am a free woman and a free Fire-Spitter. Good day.”
I turn and waltz off into the trees with a skip in my step.
However, I overhear their words before I go.
“So…she is living up to her reputation,” I hear Rawk growl.
“She chose me,” Zoraul laughs, “You will be alone forever—you will be like Storm, spending at least seven centuries alone, before I even allow you to see our mate’s face again.”
“Cruel words, brother. I will kill you just the same and take her for myself. Just watch me.”
“But perhaps we will die first from our mate’s brutal attack?” Zoraul asks.
Rawk replies but I do not hear the words. I refuse to hang around and wait any longer. And I admit, I don’t truly want them to die.
Fire-Spitters just had a long history of testing their mate’s worth… And there were plenty of more challenges for them to face—if they survived my venom.
But for now? I will run and—nope. I will hunt. I’m hungry.
Then I will run.
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