The Dragon King's Breeder

The History

My father enters without a word, the door clicking shut behind him. His eyes sweep over me, slow and assessing, taking in the dress, the hair, the way the fabric fits across my chest and hips. He circles me once, then again, like he’s inspecting livestock. The bile rises so fast I have to swallow it down. This is what I’ve been reduced to. A body. A potential womb. Something to be judged, weighed, and offered.

He stops in front of me and folds his hands behind his back. His expression is unreadable, but I know what he’s thinking. Am I attractive enough. Desirable enough. Will the dragon lord look at me and see value. The thought makes my skin crawl.

When he finally speaks, his voice is clipped. “It wouldn’t be the first time a dragon lord wanted to ensure his son’s mate is intelligent. Repeat the histories to me.”

I straighten my shoulders and recite the words I’ve been forced to memorize since childhood. My voice is steady, even though my hands tremble.

“There were once hundreds of dragon clans. They lived in peace for the most part, but then dragons were cursed by the wolf shifters with infertility.” I pause, because I’ve never believed that part. “Or so they say.”

My father’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“Dragon clans began to fight over fertile females. Wars broke out across the territory. Dragons died by the hundreds. Even before the curse, dragons took a long time to conceive, and births were hard. Most families never had more than two children. We lived long lives, but we were going extinct.”

I keep going, the words flowing like a script.

“Bloodlust consumed the clans. Even fertile females were dying because the men went feral with them. Twenty dragon lords came together and formed an alliance. They agreed it had to stop. They needed a king. Someone who would handle the eligible females and make sure no clan hoarded them. They created rules. Rank. Order. They voted on a king who led the charge. That king was King Rhyzakar the First.”

My father nods once, approving.

“Now we live in peace. Twenty dragon clans. King Rhyzakar passed, but his son, King Rhyzakar the Second, rules in his place. When a dragon steps out of line or breaks the treaty, the king handles it. He’s said to be ruthless.”

My father studies me again, as if the history matters less than how I look saying it.

My father’s gaze hardens, the kind that makes my spine lock straight even when I don’t want it to. He steps closer, close enough that I can smell the salt from the sea clinging to his clothes. His eyes sweep over me one last time, slow and critical, before he gives a single curt nod.

“Do not disappoint me today.”

The words land like a stone in my stomach. I nod because that’s what’s expected, even though my throat feels tight. The room tilts for a moment, and I have to grip the edge of my vanity to steady myself. I’m so nervous I can barely breathe. My whole life has been funneled into this one moment. Every lesson, every correction, every expectation. All of my worth as a dragon distilled into whether a man I’ve never met decides I’m good enough to breed.