Dragon Priestess's Forbidden Mating with Twin Wyvern Shifters

I am Lirael, the sacred Dragon Priestess of the Obsidian Spire, bound by ancient vows to remain untouched by mortal or shifter alike. On the night of the twin moons, the air inside the sanctum hummed with raw power. Silver light poured through the crystal oculus above the altar, bathing the black stone in shifting hues of violet and pearl. I had come here alone to perform the usual lunar rites, my white ceremonial robes whispering against my ankles, when the heavy bronze doors groaned open.

Two massive silhouettes filled the archway.

Thorne and Draven.

The exiled wyvern stepbrothers had returned.

Even after seven years, I recognized the way they moved—predatory grace wrapped in muscle and obsidian scales that caught the moonlight like living armor. Their golden eyes glowed with the same hungry fire I remembered from the days I had secretly tended their wounds after their banishment. They were no longer the reckless youths I had once bandaged in secret. These were males in their prime, broad-shouldered, tall enough that their horns nearly scraped the carved ceiling.

They stepped inside and the doors sealed behind them with a resonant boom that vibrated through my bones.

“Priestess,” Thorne rumbled, voice like distant thunder. His gaze dragged over me slowly, possessively. “We have need of the forbidden bonding ritual. Only you can perform it.”

Draven’s lips curved into a dangerous smile. “And only you can give us what we truly crave.”

My pulse hammered against my throat. The vows burned inside me—untouched, pure, sworn to the Dragon Eternal—yet the moment their scent hit me, smoke and leather and raw male musk, something deep in my core clenched with a need I had buried for years.

I should have ordered them to leave. Instead I whispered, “The ritual demands a virgin priestess offer herself completely. Body, magic… everything.”

Thorne’s golden eyes flared. “Then break your vows, Lirael. For us.”