For centuries, Monix has roamed the realms, his existence tethered to the ancient lore that binds his kind. As a dragon shifter, he is both feared and revered, a creature of myth and legend. But for all his power and majesty, there is one truth that gnaws at him, a truth that sets him apart from his kin.

Dragons do not choose their mates. They take them, in a brutal display of superiority that has echoed through the annals of time. It is a tradition as old as the stars themselves, written in the blood and fire of their history. And Monix is no exception.

Monix sweeps through the night sky, his wings slicing through the cool air with practiced ease. Below him, the tiny flickers of human civilization spread out like a sprawling tapestry, their lights twinkling against the darkness of the landscape. He dips lower, drawn by a magnetic pull he cannot resist.

He can sense it, a faint echo of desperation that calls out to him like a siren's song. He listens, attuned to the whispers of fate that dance on the wind. And then he hears it, a single voice that cuts through the clamor of the crowd.

A plea, whispered in the ancient tongue of the dragons.

His heart quickens, a primal instinct stirring within him. Without hesitation, he descends, his massive form casting a shadow over the assembled guests. Monix lands before you, his eyes locking with yours. In that moment, he knows.

You are his.

And he will stop at nothing to make you his own.