Dragons – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Dragons – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:10:23 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.2 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Dragons – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 The Dragon 6 – Tokyo Empire Read Online Kenya Wright http://www.books2020.com/the-dragon-6-tokyo-empire-read-online-kenya-wright Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:10:23 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/the-dragon-6-tokyo-empire-read-online-kenya-wright Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Dragons, Erotic, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Authors: Kenya Wright Advertisement

Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)

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Kenji has built something rare in the yakuza world—a family forged in blood, loyalty, and survival—and the Claws Cocktail Party was supposed to be a night of celebration. But beneath the silk and sake, enemies move in silence. A betrayal arrives so devastating it will shatter what Kenji thought he knew about loyalty, love, and the cost of becoming a legend.
When the smoke clears, nothing—and no one—will ever be the same

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

Buried Alive

Kenji

Grief was a burial that came with no ceremony nor folded hands.

No earth disturbed once and left to settle.

While the dead rest in peace, the survivors were buried alive.

Lying flat on their backs in the darkness of sorrow. Dirt shoveling over their faces. Pressure pressing the air from their lungs and the light from their eyes.

Standing became a performance and existing became the bravest and most exhausting thing a man could do.

Tonight, I was buried alive under Yoshiwara.

Lying right next to Hiroko and every name Hiro had spoken aloud at that table in his toast to the dead.

I was buried under the weight of what I'd ordered, what I'd permitted, and what I could undo by no act of will regardless of how necessary it had been.

I should have been incapable of standing.

Incapable of eating.

Incapable of laughing at Reo's story or pressing sake to my lips or feeling anything other than the particular suffocation of a man swallowing his dead.

But the Dragon refused to grieve where anyone could see it. I was the very skeleton of this massive body called the Yakuza. The beast who hovered over Japan—jaw set, eyes calm, spine straight.

My stillness was the only thing standing between my men and their own fracturing.

They ate because I ate. They laughed because I laughed. They believed the war was survivable because I looked like a man who was already victorious.

This was the silent burden I held close to my chest.

The Dragon's strength lived inside the pain—managed, compressed, driven down through the body and stored below the sternum where it could never reach my face, voice, or hands.

Where it could burn quietly and privately.

Anxiety lived alongside the grief.

Was Yoshiwara only the first shovelful of dirt over my face?

Was more death coming?

Heavier ones.

Suffocatingly sorrowful ones that would strip away my breath and everything I thought I understood about the man I was?

I had no way of knowing.

All I could do was keep walking forward into the dark and trust that my feet knew the floor.

But I had my Tora, my sweet loving Tiger who had thought enough through her grief to welcome our return with food and comfort. She gave us space to eat together.

She had fed us all and asked for nothing back.

My Tiger.

My queen.

My love.

The only anchor stable enough to hold on in this raging storm.

The meal wound down.

Absolutely well fed, my men pushed back from the table and stretched in satisfaction of the full meal.

All the sake bottles were emptied and the chopsticks had been set to rest.

“We must do this after every battle.” Daisuke stood and rolled his neck until it cracked twice. Even after all the fighting in Yoshiwara that black mohawk was still perfect. He blinked his bruised eyes, now darkening from purple to gray and yawned. “Thank you, Tora.”

I stiffened at his using my nickname for Nyomi.

I’ll have to tell them that only I call her that.

I decided on a later time, since I knew she would protest.

Nyomi smiled. “You’re welcome, Daisuke.”

Then Kaede rose, straightened his jacket, and yawned. “I agree. In fact, we should have a meal from the Tiger before we go into battle too.”

I sneered. “Not going to happen.”

Chuckles left Toma’s split and swollen lips. He left his seat too, giving me a good view of those long gashes stretching across his neck.

Akiro’s men beat us up bad.

Everyone else followed suit, the twins were last to stand.

"I killed at least twenty." Aki held up his bandaged hand.

Yuki didn't even look at him. "It was only eleven."

"You miscounted."

"You overcounted."

Nyomi shifted on my lap.

My arm tightened.

She shifted again with more intention. "Kenji."

“Yes?” I pressed my palm flat against her hip, anchoring her there without looking at her.

"Let me up."

Shocked, I looked at her. "You're comfortable."

"You're comfortable. I want to get up and say goodbye to my Claws and Fangs."

"Your Claws and Fangs?"

She tapped my arm. "Kenji."

I exhaled through my nose and removed my arm.

That’s okay, Tora. I’ll punish you once we get to bed.

She pressed a kiss to my jaw before she stood.

Frowning, I tracked her across the room, unable to look away.

They filed toward her.

Toma reached her first and wrapped both arms around her with zero restraint, lifting her entirely off the ground.

She yelped.

The line of my jaw twitched.

"This was better than my leftover pizza in the fridge. You're an absolute legend, Tora."

"Toma, my ribs—"

"Sorry. Sorry." He set her down and smirked. "Same time next battle?"

Right when I was about to protest, she bobbed her head in agreement. “Of course. There will be food after the next battle so make sure you come back.”

Annoyed, I pursed my lips.

Toma nodded. “I will. Don’t worry about that, Tora.”

Kaede stepped forward and bowed his head to her. A few strands of his platinum blond hair hung in front of him. He shifted into his best British impression. “Milady, due to this royal feast, I am your loyal knight from this day forth and henceforth and thereafter.”

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Advertisement The Dragon’s Favorite Strays – Fireblood Dragons Read Online Ruby Dixon http://www.books2020.com/the-dragons-favorite-strays-fireblood-dragons-read-online-ruread-online-dixon Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:10:21 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/the-dragons-favorite-strays-fireblood-dragons-read-online-ruread-online-dixon Genre: Alpha Male, Dragons, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Authors: Ruby Dixon Advertisement

Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 119764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)

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Cut off from his people and stranded on the wrong side of the Rift, a drakoni warrior named Murr collects strays. His home is filled with cats and kittens that need a caretaker.

His latest strays?

A human woman and her daughter who have wandered into his territory. Dakota is a woman used to being on her own. She doesn't trust or depend on anyone. She certainly doesn't trust a big naked dragon-man with a friendly smile and a kitten in his arms.

As Murr and Dakota get to know each other, their strange gathering of strays grows. Home is where your family is, and they're determined to make a new one amidst the ruins.

This STAND ALONE book features a dragon shifter hero, a world-weary single mom, found family, and all the stray animals I can squeeze onto the page. This story is low on plot and high on cozy vibes. Enjoy!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER 1

DAKOTA

“Do you have this one, Rabbit?” I ask my daughter, bringing her a postcard. “There were a few by the register.”

She looks up from the bookshelf she’s emptying, setting the precious contents on the ground. Her face brightens as I approach, and then her mouth twists in teenage disgust. “Mom, that’s not even a postcard. That’s a bookmark.”

“But it says Texas on it, and it has a little map. It’s kinda like a postcard. It would fit in with your collection.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” She sticks her tongue out at my offering. “And I’m staying with postcards for a while. If I change to bookmarks, I’ll let you know.”

I just roll my eyes at her insulted tone and tuck the bookmark into the pocket of my worn jeans. I love my daughter, but man, is she particular. When she first decided to collect things, it was DVDs. So many of them had fascinating, colorful surfaces, so she kept them all in a heavy binder and tossed out the packaging. After a while, though, the DVDs made her sad because she could never watch them. Rabbit then switched to coins, since money is useless in the After. Coins got to be too heavy, so she switched to postcards.

The day will come that the postcards make her sad, I think. The maternal side of me wants to push the bookmarks on her as a “safer” alternative, but I also don’t want to be a pushy parent. I watch as Rabbit gets back to work, pulling even more books off of the shelf in front of her. A few feet away, her pack rests next to her air mattress. “Whatcha doing?”

“I’m going to move these shelves,” she says, pausing and gesturing to form a square. “Make my own private little room.”

Smart kid. Over and over again, Rabbit’s clever mind amazes me. Her company is the only thing that’s kept me sane the last ten years. I’m so lucky I found her. Hell, I’m lucky we found each other. “You want help with that?”

“Nah, I got it, Mom.”

“Okay. I’ll just be over here.” I thumb a gesture at the rest of the store. “By myself. Hanging out.”

She makes a face at me even as she gets back to work. “You wanted books! Go read books!”

Laughter bubbles up, and I feel light and carefree for the first time in months, ever since we left Fort Lubbock. I head back to my bunk in the back of the store by where the toys were. They’re gone now except for a few broken pieces, and I blow up my mattress and unroll my bed. I pick up a hardcover that had been out on a table and admire the dustjacket, then move towards the windows for light to read by.

There’s no electricity in our big store, no furniture other than the shelves and a few metal chairs in the break room. But the toilets work, the sinks work (how, I have no idea) and the roof doesn’t leak, which makes this place 10, 000 times better than the last place we lived. I’m surprised it wasn’t occupied already. People have been spreading out since the Rift changed and the dragons stopped attacking. Forts are now just convenient instead of a necessity. It’s safe to travel.

Perhaps this place was empty because it’s full of books, which are more of a luxury than anything in the After. Or perhaps it’s because the front windows were shattered, the front doors busted out. Rabbit swept up glass while I disassembled a few shelves and screwed the large wood backs to the doors to make them secure again. They’re ugly and my hands are full of blisters from manually working long screws into the metal frame, but I’m pleased with the results. The glass windows staring out into the empty, overgrown parking lot are shattered but whole, and I’ve got duct tape that can seal off any cracks.

But that doesn’t have to be done today.

For the first time in months, I realize I can relax. There’s nothing that needs to be done tomorrow, nowhere to go, nothing to hunt down. We have food and drink. Our beds are warm and dry.

And we’re surrounded by books. It’s almost like the Before times. Back then, I loved a good juicy celebrity bio and a fashion magazine, but this book looks like it’s about shipwrecks, and I figure what the hell. I’ll enjoy it anyhow.

I settle in near one of the windows, crossing my legs and sitting on the floor in a pool of November sunlight. In summer, the heat’s going to be miserable, but right now, the weather is gorgeous. I read the first page of my book and smooth my fingers down the paper, appreciating the wistful nostalgia of holding a real, genuine printed book from Before.

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Advertisement The Order of the Black Tapestry Read Online Suzanne Wright http://www.books2020.com/the-order-of-the-black-tapestry-read-online-suzanne-wright Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:50:57 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/the-order-of-the-black-tapestry-read-online-suzanne-wright Genre: Alpha Male, Dragons, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Authors: Suzanne Wright Advertisement

Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)

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Survive the tryouts. Join the Order. Defeat the darkness. Heed the Calling.

The time has again come for the kingdoms to offer sacrifices to the corrupt Sovereigns as proof of loyalty. Among the sacrifices is Anara, a human Sayer—anointed by the primordial gods at birth to be a divine instrument.

After being taken to Deimos, the Isle of the Sovereigns, she’s thrust into deadly tryouts for the Order of the Black Tapestry. Led by Talon, a living legend—a dragon soul trapped in the form of an immortal man—the Order protects Deimos from all threats. Each trial is a lesson in pain and perseverance that takes Anara closer and closer to the final test—surviving the Labyrinth of the Minotaur.

As powers awaken within her and the growing heat between she and Talon sparks a fragile bond to form, Anara must aid the Black Tapestry in defeating enemies who would otherwise claim Deimos for their own.

A dangerous undertaking for godkin.

A seemingly impossible task for a human.

But perhaps the divine Calling of a Sayer

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE

Every nine years it happened. They came. Emissaries of the Sovereigns.

Watching dozens of them ride toward the settlement—some on horseback, some driving horse-drawn wagons—I remembered the last time they’d come. At twelve, I’d been too young to count as a possible sacrifice to the Sovereigns. Back then, more than a little terrified, I’d stood amidst the large crowd surrounding the town square, keeping a distance from the ‘offerings.’

Seven young men.

Seven young women.

Just as it always was.

This time round, I wasn’t swallowed up in the safety of the crowd. I stood shoulder to shoulder with the other offerings—my mouth dry, my heart racing, my stomach all tied up in elaborate knots.

A few sniffles and sobs rippled through the crowd. So much emotion clogged the air. Despair. Helplessness. Anger. Spite.

No one spoke up, though. It would be senseless. Because any who fled, protested, or tried fighting the emissaries only ever met a chillingly swift execution.

Things weren’t always like this. Before the primordial gods returned to their own realm centuries ago, they had lived in peace with mortals; treated us with respect and courtesy; educated and protected us. We, in turn, had worshipped and served them.

The half-bloods and their descendants, however? They weren’t necessarily cruel to us, they just massively overlooked us. We were, to them, a lesser species. Useful in our way, but interchangeable. Like a colony of ants. And so also expendable. Hence why the Sovereigns who reigned supreme over Cathadonya’s four dominions in the gods’ steed felt no guilt at using us as pawns in their power games.

The teenager beside me shifted from foot to foot. “Anara, you might want to edge away from me a little because I think I’m going to be sick,” he muttered.

I’d understand if Kemp did. My own stomach had dropped when, just half an hour ago, the Baron of our settlement had blindly plucked a fourteenth tuft of paper out of a bowl … and read aloud my name. Disbelief had smacked into me first. Then rage. Panic. Devastation. Resentment. The emotions still hissed and snapped in my belly like flames.

The reactions of the other selected humans had been mixed. Some had wept. Some had blanched. Some had fallen into a state of shock. None of the three godkin-offerings were anxious since, for them, there would be certain perks to this scenario.

Remus had only allowed us to say quick goodbyes to our loved ones before ordering us out to wait in the middle of the town square for the emissaries to arrive.

And so there we stood.

The aforementioned emissaries were clad in clothes as black as their magnificent steeds’ shiny coat. I knew that each item of clothing would have a red shield sown into them. On said shield would be a sword that had a twine of thread curled around it—an insignia that proclaimed they belonged to the Order of the Black Tapestry.

The purpose of the deadly and dangerous Order was simple: To protect not only the Sovereigns but the Isle of Deimos on which they lived.

“Aegeas isn’t bothering to hide how much he begrudges having to go along with this,” Kemp noted.

Glancing at the half-blood who governed all of Phoenixia, I noticed that his face was indeed a mask of resentment as he played escort for the emissaries. “I’d imagine it bugs all the Archdukes that they have to provide such proof of loyalty.” Particularly since it was also a punishment for how they had tried rebelling against the Sovereigns a century ago.

Stood on Kemp’s other side, Aurelia absently scratched at her arm, lightly scoring her dark skin. “Much as I’m devastated that my parents are gone, I’m glad they’re not around to see this.”

I knew exactly what she meant. Like many in our settlement, I’d lost a number of my relatives to the plague that had swept through it years earlier. It would have torn my parents apart to see me be taken away. Especially since it was rumored that the human offerings were tossed into a labyrinth inhabited by a half-man half-bull creature.

Well, it’s a hard ‘no’ from me, thanks.

“My mom’s wrecked,” said Kemp, his voice breaking. “My sister was given to the Sovereigns last time the emissaries came, and my dad’s gone. She’ll be alone now.”

My chest squeezed. While I’d known about his father’s death, I hadn’t been aware of the rest. Being an acolyte, I rarely mingled with the townspeople. My family line had been part of the retinue of the gods since the immortals first appeared in our realm. Hellyne, the Goddess of Fate and Rebirth, had settled here and named the dominion after her most favored pet, a Phoenix bird.

Kemp gave me a sideways glance. “I was surprised when your name was called out. I didn’t think they’d put yours in the bowl. The gods would want you protected, not be made a ‘sacrifice.’”

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