Bride of the Dragons Selina Coffey Read Online Free

  Married to the Dragon

Shifter Romance

Selina Coffey

Contents

Chapter ane

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Affiliate 5

Chapter 6

BONUS

Bad Boy Romance

Billionaire Romance

Menage Romance

Shifter Romance

About the Author

Copyright © Lovy Books Ltd, 2016

Selina Coffey has asserted her correct under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Human action 1988 to exist identified as the author of this work.

This volume is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the production of the author'due south imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

Respective authors own all copyrights non held past the publisher.

Lovy Books Ltd

20-22 Wenlock Route

London N1 7GU

Join her mailing list today and receive a complimentary copy of Billionaire V Babysitter, her latest release.

Limited offering! Only 300 copies available!

Chapter One

"Oh, Ellieth…" Her sister'south voice was hushed. "You look like an angel. Look—look!" Her hands guided Ellieth to turn around.

"I do non await—oh, my." Ellieth gasped. She had been sure that her sister was but giving customary compliments to the bride, but her appearance was indeed otherworldly.

The wedding apparel floated effectually her like something from a dream, layers of white seeming to drift in a breeze that touched no one else; Elven magic, her mother said with a sniff. The bodice glittered with diamonds and then small that Ellieth could accept sworn she was dressed in fresh-fallen snow— and then convincing was the illusion that she shivered.

Her white-blond hair roughshod complimentary over her shoulders, its waves adorned with pearls and blue gems that caught the light of the magical light globes, and her eyes seemed near to glow. Ellieth was accustomed to dressing in nighttime blue, to accentuate her color, but she now regretted that she did not dress in white more than oftentimes. She looked luminous, a creature of snow, as magical as the Elven palace that surrounded her, with eyes that spoke of former magic.

"Well," her mother said at terminal, sounding pleased, "they won't accept seen something similar this earlier."

She sounded satisfied, as proud as any mother to meet her daughter be married, merely Ellieth knew the woman well enough to hear the tremor of fearfulness in her vocalism. Everything hung on this marriage. Everything.

"They will care for me well, Female parent." She turned, clasping her female parent's hands in her own.

"If they do not—"

"They must." Ellieth smiled her reassurance, hoping that her racing pulse did not give away her own fear. She thought, with some badgerer, that her mother should be comforting her and not the other way effectually, but she knew it must be difficult to run into ane's child walk into the danger of a hostile court. "They need us," Ellieth reminded her.

It was true, although she feared that the fact made the Elves more than resentful than annihilation else. They were a proud race. Elfhame—or whatever unpronounceable name they called it in Elvish— was guarded by warriors who wielded bows, staves, and swords with equal precision. For millennia, the Elves were the most feared fighting forcefulness on Earth. And for centuries, they existed with humans in an uneasy truce borne of common desperation. The Elves, if they and so choose, could trounce the human nations in a moment… if they had non needed their troops for the increasingly ruinous boxing against the dragons.

The war had raged betwixt the two nations since before Ellieth'south family unit took the throne in the human lands. She wondered if the Elves were aware that it had been their armies who placed her family unit in the seat of power, however inadvertently—when Male monarch Savin IV of the Elvenkin had slain Darius, the last of the royal line. Ellieth's great grandfather, an archduke, had been chosen as the successor.

And now Ellieth was to marry Savin'due south namesake, so that the humans could assistance the Elves in a battle they now, to their shame, needed humans to assistance them fight. Every bit necessary as her presence was, signaling military assist, Ellieth knew it might not be welcome. She had crept to her father's door while he conversed with her mother, and so she had heard him repeat the slander they said confronting humans: weak, terrified picayune creatures. Too hands crushed to exist worth the crown Prince's hand in marriage.

When Ellieth asked her mother, a bit desperately, if they should go through with the marriage, her mother had reminded her simply that with Savin's goodwill, no one else could touch her. And so Ellieth, whose concerns the week earlier had been centered on grain prices and the other tedious concern of learning to rule; now found herself with the job of enchanting an Elven Prince. She had spent the ride to the castle trying to forget that she did not remember she could do it.

"Do you think the Prince volition be overnice?" Ellieth's younger sister asked softly, as if reading Ellieth's mind.

"Allina!" their mother said sharply.

"I'm deplorable." Her sis'due south eyes, a paler blueish than Ellieth's ain, dropped down. Where Ellieth seemed born of extremes, pale as water ice and withal with eyes similar dusk, Allina was a copy of gold and aquamarine; her skin inclined to plow the color of honey in the sun, her hair as pure and glorious as liquid bronze, and her eyes shining the same articulate bluish as the waters around the human capital of Terrestra. Now she bit one rose-pinkish lip, flushing with shame.

"Allina, don't worry." Ellieth reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind her sister'southward ear. "Prince Savin will—"

A distant roar went up in the cracking hall exterior, and Ellieth broke off. Their mother picked up her skirts, hastening over to peer through one of the carved screens that separated them from the throng, Elves and humans mixing in stilted politeness. From the cheer, Ellieth knew that Savin must have taken his place at the altar.

"Ellieth." Her sister's voice was low, panicked. "Information technology's non too late to go back."

"What's gotten into y'all?"

"I'm scared," Allina whispered. "The dragon—Ellieth, you lot were already here, just we saw it when we came to join yous. It's blackness equally night, it blocks the sun with its wings. If information technology lays siege to Elfhame…"

"The war will be over soon with our aid," Allina said, with more conviction than she felt.

"And Savin—they say he'south a cold human. What if he…I mean, they say Elves…"

"What do they say?" Ellieth raised an eyebrow as her sister flushed a deep ruby-red.

"They say Elves have unnatural… appetites," Allina whispered. Her blue eyes were wide.

"Allina!" Ellieth put a hand over her mouth, horrified at the insinuation. And then, about hysterical, she felt herself get-go to laugh. "Who take you been listening to, dock workers?"

A giggle escaped her younger sis, and within moments, the two of them were laughing like schoolgirls, stopping only when their female parent looked over at them in badgerer.

"Calm yourself." Her eyes flicked between the two of them. "I assure you that His Majesty will not take kindly to you 2 laughing while Ellieth marries his son."

"Yes, Mother." Ellieth leaned frontwards to kiss her mother's cheek.

"Information technology's time." Her mother'south confront was pale, and she melted abroad into the shadows as the bang-up double doors swung open.

In that location was a moment of silence in the Banquet Hall as Ellieth stood framed past

black marble, a beacon of white against the night marble. So, as she began to walk through the crowd, a roar of approval went up; humans delighted to see their Princess shining to her best advantage, calling blessings upon her, and the Elves murmuring congratulations, their dark eyes broad with surprise at this pale bogeyman. The crowd itself was a dizzying mix of the peaches and browns of humanity, and the blues and purples of the Elves. But all of them, she noted with a wave of relief, seemed to be auspicious her. Relief coiled, warm, in her breast— until she noticed that there was only ane man in the Hall who did non seem pleased to watch her advance across the black-and-gold floor.

Unfortunately, that man was Prince Savin t'Lorien, Ellieth'southward husband-to-be. Even more than unfortunate, as she saw him with his face cold equally stone, his expression unwelcoming in the extreme, she herself felt a flutter in her stomach, and her knees went weak. Savin t'Lorien, it so happened, was the most beautiful man, whether human or Elven, that Ellieth had ever seen.

His hair was so black as to accept a blue sheen to information technology, catching the eerie glow of the light globes that hovered above the altar. His wedding clothes; a suit of black velvet adorned with black pearls and embroidered with a black threat that seemed about to glow, highlighted wide shoulders, potent arms, and narrow hips. And his face… Ellieth felt her lips office, and tried non to gape like a peasant girl. Even the pare, a regal-blueish that fabricated her eyes go wide, could not distract her from how cute this man was. High cheekbones and a jawline abrupt plenty to cut glass, total lips she could only imagine pressed against her own, and black eyes big and long-lashed, were deep enough to drown in.

Eyes that were at present staring at her with all the warmth of a midwinter's nighttime. As Ellieth reached the altar, the Prince hesitated. And so his mitt came up in a perfect gesture, palm upwardly. Had he been a air current-up figurine fabricated in the toyshops of Elfhame, he could not have been more mechanical. His eyes spoke duty, and the simplicity of his movements said that he would spend not a moment more than on this marriage than he must.

And notwithstanding, as she reached out, trembling, and put her paw in his, the jolt that passed between them was unmistakable. Ellieth nearly stumbled, and she saw Savin'south eyes flash, those full lips moving as if he might speak to her.

The moment passed quickly. Something slammed down behind his eyes again— almost, she might say, dislike.

How she got through the wedding service; Ellieth did not know. She was so dizzy that she swayed, and the force per unit area of the Prince's fingers on her own was and then tight that she knew, but knew; he was furious with her. When they turned to elevator their clasped hands, hearing the thunderous blessing of the crowd, the Prince looked then cold that Ellieth could inappreciably force a pretty smile onto her ain lips.

It wasn't her fault, she thought miserably. She had hardly been prepared for the service— for any of information technology. The matrimony had been bundled so hastily that there was hardly time for her to make the journey to Elfhame; from the speed her guards had been instructed to bring her, she had wondered a few times if her presence was even necessary. A battle was brewing; everyone knew it, and Ellieth was but a pawn to cement a business organization bargain. A pawn whom, if the Prince'southward expression were to be believed, was more of an annoyance than anything else. Did he have a lover, then? Someone he had intended to marry before Ellieth was offered?

She pressed her lips together, feeling tears come up to her eyes. This was a wedlock of convenience, she told herself. It was only to aid in a single battle— a terminal strike. Her necessity to Savin would last simply as long as the dragons still fought… and then she would remain just considering her ain people feared what might happen when the war was over. She had been told, in hushed whispers, that though the Elves needed her only for a very short time, humanity needed her for all her life; she was to charm the Prince, and behave a child to get his heir. She was to ensure the safety of Terrestra.

Pocket-size chance of that, she thought. Ellieth looked over the crowd. She should be pleased. The party was thus far an incredible success, humans and Elves at terminal outset to celebrate with 1 another equally liquor loosened inhibitions and lent a warm glow to the surroundings. One Elf after another came to the chantry to offer her their fealty, children shyly telling her that she was beautiful, ladies offering the services of their tailors and gentlemen congratulating Savin heartily on this ethereal bride. The courtroom, information technology seemed, was Ellieth's to command.

She could not say the same of her married man. The human being hardly looked at her, his fingers tapping on his thigh impatiently. He seemed desperate to be anywhere else, and as the clinking of glasses began, humans whispering to their Elven counterparts simply what this custom entailed, Ellieth saw Savin'due south jaw tighten.

She lifted her chin, suddenly furious. She was not to be fabricated a fool of. Shining her nearly radiant grinning on the throngs below, Ellieth raised her hand in a imperial wave, and and then turned to sweep a deep curtsy at her new husband. Her smile never wavered, but her optics, every bit she came up, carried a challenge— and did she come across the hint of a grin as he noted information technology?

Just he only clasped her mitt in both of his, pressing his lips to her fingers, each in plough, and— turning her manus over— the tender peel of her wrist. The Elves, scandalized by public kisses, murmured their approval of the Prince's restraint, and the Humans twittered at the romantic gesture. Ellieth swayed, the softness of his lips a perfect analogue to the bolt of energy that shot through her.

"My Lord…" She managed as he stood.

"My Lady." His eyes came up, chillingly cold again. And then he turned on his heel and left his own wedding commemoration, leaving Ellieth to stand up lonely before the crowd assembled.

Affiliate Two

"And he didn't even come back?" Allina demanded.

"No," Ellieth responded tonelessly. "He didn't come dorsum."

"Yous're only making your sis experience worse," their female parent said sharply.

Ellieth sighed and went to the window, staring out at the gorgeous valley that was spread out below them. The Elves had tamed it all, from the precise clusters of trees to the perfectly manicured gardens of iris and roses and tulips, all somehow growing together in an explosion of color.

It should accept been a wonderful day, and Ellieth only wanted to bury her face in her hands and sob. Diplomatic urgency, she wanted to say— if she failed to charm her husband, she was leaving humanity open to another Elven war, and she could not allow that to happen. There was so much pressure level on her, and there had been no time to acclimate to the irresolute of her fortunes. Her former betrothed, the Archduke of Ferredh, had looked almost every bit crush-shocked as she had concluding night; persuaded past Ellieth's female parent to withdraw his marriage proposal, he now stood every bit one of the most eligible bachelors in Terrestra… with the throne no longer within his grasp.

And Ellieth faced a union not with a immature man she had known since their shared childhood, only with a man three centuries old—who seemed to hate her. In that location had been no time to consult with Ellieth to proceeds her consent, and she could only assume that the same applied to Savin— whose father was still locked in the state of war bedchamber with Ellieth's father, both as well busy fifty-fifty to nourish the union of their children.

This was not how she had imagined her wedding, she thought, bitter her lip, and the idea made her feel like a child. Surely she was old enough not to expect true beloved from her marriage.

But her husband, her listen whispered, had not even shown her basic courtesy.

The door chimed, and Ellieth'south heart leaped. She whirled— and hoped that her face did not fall as well evidently when she saw not her married man, but another Elf, his blackness pilus in an elaborate set of braids and his wearable a deep bluish that ready off his pare to perfection.

"Your Regal Highness," he said, bowing deeply. His smile was warm. "Prince Dorel t'Lorien, at your service."

Savin's younger blood brother. Ellieth dipped into a curtsy, hoping that her own smile did not betray her uncertainty. Had she met Dorel concluding nighttime? At that place had been so many new faces…

"Good morn, Your Highness." She ca

me upwards without wobbling, proud of the steadiness of her vocalization. He did non need to know that she had been on the brink of tears earlier his arrival. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"A almost… delicate… matter, I am afraid." He looked gravely over at Ellieth's female parent and sister, bowing to them as well. "Might I enquire for a few moments of privacy?"

"Of grade," Ellieth'due south mother said smoothly. She steered Allina out of the room, ane hand tight on her younger daughter's shoulder as the daughter looked over her shoulder, wide-eyed, at Dorel.

Ellieth could understand her fascination. Dorel was the very picture of masculinity, equally alpine and well-muscled as his brother, his eyes and total rima oris an echo of Savin'south. His grinning was easy and open up, if his optics were grave.

"Your Majestic Highness, I must apologize. I fright I bear bad news."

"Oh?" Ellieth tried to keep her voice calorie-free. "Do non apologize, Your Highness."

"Ah, how tin can I not? This is non the sort of matter one should be telling a bride on the day after her nuptials." His forehead furrowed, and he looked away from her for a moment. "I fear… I fear my brother has departed."

"Departed?" Ellieth blinked. The words hit her like a moving ridge, and yet she could not seem to make sense of them. "What do you lot hateful, departed?"

"He has left the court for the mountain retreat of E'lessiell." Dorel's words were soft, his blackness optics kind. "My Lady— Your Highness— I am then sad."

Ellieth turned away, her center pounding. Shame was called-for in her cheeks, and she could feel tears pricking at her optics. She wiped them away angrily, furious that her brother-in-law should run across such a thing.

Brother-in-constabulary. He was not even that, not yet. Until the marriage was consummated, she was zilch to the t'Lorien family— a pawn without a Prince.

hernandezbetalor1988.blogspot.com

Source: https://celz.ru/selina-coffey/442493-married_to_the_dragon.html

Share this post