The Complete Gargoyle and Sorceress Boxset (Books 1-9)

by Lisa Blackwood

  “Don’t cook me, you great lizard. It will be a little difficult to be the mother to your drakelings if I’m a ghost.”

  The firedrake made a soft, emotional snort and more steam and a few flames licked around his teeth.

  “Seriously, don’t cook me, Lizardman.”

  “My fire won’t hurt you. My magic already considers you my mate; you’re immune to its destructive power.”

  “Glad to hear I won’t accidentally get cooked, but even if I weren’t immune, it wouldn’t change my mind. I’d still love you and the little ones, too.” She reached out and trailed her fingers down the pebbly shell of the nearest egg, the beat of the drakelings heart a soft pulse against her fingertips. Soon the one inside sang again, and more foolish tears flowed down her cheeks.

  “I don’t know what kind of witchery you and these drakelings have woven over me, but I’ll be your mate and grow into the mother they need.”

  “No witchery,” Sorac rumbled, the tone deep and soothing. “Just love.”

  “I’ll do my best by them and you,” Vaspara said with a self-deprecating snort. “But don’t expect perfection. I’m not mother material. There will be lots of blunders and learning.”

  “For me as well. We’ll blunder together.” Flames burst from between his scales and licked along them for a moment, and then the firedrake shifted back into the form of a man.

  He grinned, looking both eager and uncertain. “If I recall, we were in the middle of something before I frightened you off earlier with all my demands. I hate leaving things unfinished.”

  Vaspara stepped into Sorac’s embrace and was delighted he hadn’t bothered to summon clothing or armor. It would have slowed her down too much, and at this moment, she needed to feel the brush of his skin against hers more than she needed to breathe.

  Their kisses and caresses soon turned heated, and Sorac was stripping her out of her clothing with quick, sure motions. She was usually the aggressor in sex, and would be again later, but right this moment, she sensed Sorac’s firedrake nature was clamoring to claim her as his mate.

  He carried them to the ground, his weight settling over her. When he aligned them, she wrapped her legs around his hips and growled out encouragement, letting him know she was pleased with the pace he’d set.

  There would be time for gentleness later. Grinning, she bit down on his shoulder, her teeth pinching and scraping but not piercing the skin, not yet.

  Sorac rumbled out something very lizardish at the press of her teeth.

  Holding him in a fierce embrace, she enjoyed having the big male’s body working in unison with hers, lust and magic flowing between them.

  “You are addictive,” she whispered.

  Sorac lifted his lips away from her skin long enough to mumble, “Good. I want to provide you with something else no other male ever has or ever will.”

  Stroking a hand down his spine, she smiled against his throat. “You already do that every day. You’re my partner, guardian of my heart.” She paused and glanced sideways at the nearest egg. “The father of our future children.”

  The firedrake rumbled something heated against her skin, and after that, there was no more talking.

  MUCH LATER, VASPARA lay curled against Sorac’s side. He slept heavily in the way of a fully sated male. Rare moments like this only made her value the precious time they had together. If the gods were kind, there would be many more moments like this one.

  She smiled up at the bright stars slowly spinning across the heavens as she lay awake listening to Sorac’s deep, even breathing. She brushed her mind against his shields and his mental barriers dropped, allowing their minds to mingle.

  Vaspara basked in the evidence of his absolute trust in her. Her smile grew broader when she realized he was dreaming about her and his drakelings. In the dream, his entire family was on the smooth sands of the southern side of the island where the beaches were wide and mostly free of rocks.

  She, Sorac, and his drakelings were racing and playing in the surf. The innocence of the scene wasn’t something she’d ever thought possible in her life, but perhaps it was. All she had to do was reach out and take it.

  Vaspara smiled once more at Sorac’s dream and then turned to look at the eggs. One was within touching distance, and she stroked her fingertips along the warm shell.

  “I may be a disaster as a mother, but I’m a fierce bitch and know how to destroy my enemies. I give you my promise, as long as I draw breath, I will keep you and all your brothers and sisters safe. You will know love and safety. Rest, grow strong, and when you are ready, I’ll be here waiting.”

  Chapter 14

  AFTER ONE FINAL GLOWER at the vines, Vaspara shoved the tangled mass off her lap and leaned back against the log bench.

  Who would have thought weaving and knotting vines together to make a fish trap would be so complicated? But in the four moon cycles they’d been living on the island, she’d never mastered the art of weaving things together.

  “I’d fight for the chance to kill something,” she muttered to herself.

  Rising, she moved toward a small cooking fire she’d started earlier and poured herself a cup of tea. Taking a sip, she wished for mulled wine. Or something stronger, but the only thing they had on the island was water and a dwindling supply of dried herbs.

  At least they had their freedom, she thought as she glowered down at the weak tea in her cup. Perhaps in a few months they could venture forth, exploring the surrounding islands and the land mass far to the west. There were other kingdoms near. And where civilization existed, there was usually some form of fermented drink to be had.

  She’d discuss the possibility of looking into trade later, once Sorac was finished putting a roof on the most recent structure under construction. The firedrake was much stronger than the rest of them, and when he was in his true form, he was better than scaffolding or ramps.

  A sudden, sharp crack caught her attention. She looked toward the nest. The sound came again. A moment later, she bolted to her feet in understanding. Rushing to the nest, she hauled herself over the stout wall and dropped down into the hot sand.

  Scanning each of the eggs, searching for the source of the noise, she circled the nest. The sound came a third time, and she spotted one egg with a small, but widening, crack running outward from a tiny hole near the top. A little curl of fire licked up from the hole as the baby firedrake inside expressed his annoyance at not yet having broken free.

  “Sorac,” she called, using magic to touch his mind. “You great lizard. Get your big, scaly backside to the nest now! One of the eggs is hatching! I don’t know what to do!”

  She didn’t care if she sounded panicked.

  “I’m on my way.” His excitement speared into her mind, a living fire that forked and snapped like lightning through her senses.

  It didn’t hurt. He hadn’t lied when he said his power could no longer harm her now that they were mates. In the days following their mating, she’d learned firedrakes forged powerful mating bonds that allowed either member of the pair to call upon the other’s power in times of need or in defense of the nest.

  As he’d promised, the big firedrake was soon winging toward her location, his shadow racing ahead of him across the island. With a great flapping of wings and swirling sand, he came in for a landing at the edge of the nest.

  After only the barest acknowledgment of her presence, he nosed at the eggs until he found the one with the crack. Snorting softly, he flicked his tongue out, scenting his child. Then Sorac crooned softly to his hatching, singing encouragements.

  The egg rocked and shook with the hatchling’s vigorous pecking. Soon a small pointed muzzle poked from the egg. A moment later, the drakeling shifted to press an eyeball against the opening. It looked directly at her.

  “Hello, little one,” she called softly. “Welcome to the world.”

  Inside the egg, the hatchling made an excited cry loud enough to make her ears throb.

  “My son has good lu
ngs.” Sorac rumbled with laughter.

  “The little one is male?”

  “Yes,” Sorac nodded, dipping his muzzle close to the egg for another sniff. “His scent is male. My first born is a son.” Pride colored his tone.

  “Our son,” Vaspara corrected gently.

  Sorac’s large pupils expanded at her words, turning his eyes entirely black for a moment. Stretching his long neck, he brought his muzzle in close and rubbed it against her chest.

  “Our son,” he agreed, sounding happier than she’d ever recalled.

  As the hatchling continued to fight his way out of his shell, Vaspara glanced at the other eggs. “How long before they hatch?”

  “It’ll be three days before the next is ready to hatch.” Sorac nudged the egg to the immediate right of the one hatching. “After I acquired each egg from the mother, I put it in the nest and took down the stasis spell so they could absorb my magic for three days before restoring the spell, halting their development. A new hatchling will emerge from his or her egg every three days.”

  The egg in the nest's center rolled suddenly, and with a mighty screech, two tiny wings burst out from inside, shattering the shell. Suddenly finding itself free, the baby drake stretched full length in the sand.

  Sorac crooned and nuzzled the little one and then tilted his head to look at Vaspara.

  Moment of truth, Vaspara thought as a nervous thrill slid through her middle. Coming to the little drake’s side, she knelt and held a hand out for him to sniff. He loosed the same cry he’d made when he’d first looked at her through the small hole in his egg.

  “That cry means mother,” Sorac explained.

  Vaspara felt her jaw drop. “They already recognize me?”

  “They imprinted upon your magic and essence while still in the egg.”

  Reaching out, she stroked a finger down the little drakeling’s head. His scales were still a muddy sort of olive shade, but according to his shell color and pattern, he’d turn a bright jewel blue with a hint of black at the tips of his scales when he was older.

  His wings seemed small compared to his body. She touched each one gently, fearing there was something wrong.

  Sorac nuzzled the drakeling. “His wings will soon expand now that he is free of his shell.”

  Vaspara nodded as she continued her exploration of the tiny but perfect hatchling. His tail was twice the length of his body and his four little legs with their clawed tips were already strong and able to carry him short distances.

  He called to her again and then wriggled closer. Soon he was in her lap, pressing his head against her middle. Her arms closed around him and her heart did that strange flutter as tears gathered in her eyes.

  “I’ve got you,” she whispered softly. She had indeed fallen far in such a short time, but she couldn’t find it in her to wish back the old Vaspara.

  “He’ll be hungry in a matter of moments. I’ll grab a fish from the stock pond.” Sorac abandoned her with the little drakeling.

  They’d been saving some of their catch and putting them in a special salt-water pond they’d created so they could have fresh food nearby when the drakelings hatched. Sorac had explained, the drakeling would be ravenous within moments of hatching. They’d decided it was best to have fresh food at hand, since the hatchlings wouldn’t eat cooked or dried meat.

  The drakeling rested his head between her breasts, one ear pressed to her heart, his big, jet-black eyes watching her. He was such a darling she grinned like a fool. “Your father will bring something back shortly.”

  As promised, Sorac soon returned with a fish. He dropped it next to Vaspara and then looked at her expectantly.

  Reluctantly, she placed the hatchling on the sand close to the fish and waited for Sorac to tear the fish into bite-sized pieces.

  “Female firedrakes are protective of their hatchlings and rarely allow their mates to feed the young for the first few days.” Sorac grinned at her look of surprise. “He’s waiting for you to shred the fish.”

  She glanced down at the fish. Well, she had said she wanted to kill something, hadn’t she? A hapless fish hadn’t been quite what she had in mind.

  With a shrug, she swiftly dealt the fish a death blow and then unsheathed her claws. Butchering the fish was swift work, and soon she was feeding tidbits of meat to the excited hatchling. He was as hungry as Sorac said he would be.

  Once he’d eaten the entire fish, he waddled over to Vaspara and climbed into her lap, where he soon fell asleep.

  “You did that well,” Sorac said, his voice a heated rumble near her ear. He was lying down with his body curled around her and the eggs, his head situated so he could peer over her shoulder and gaze at his son.

  She rolled her eyes. “It was one fish. Not a battle against our greatest foes.”

  Sorac chuckled. “Still, I think motherhood will suit you.”

  He was partly correct. Motherhood might still scare her, she admitted, but she would master this raising of drakelings like everything else she’d put her mind to. She didn’t believe in failure. Only practice and eventual success.

  She’d succeed at this as well.

  Chapter 15

  AFTER A LITTLE OVER a month’s time, all fourteen of his eggs had hatched. Each drakeling was as healthy and perfectly formed as the first. Sorac was pleased beyond measure with his brood. And Vaspara, too.

  She’d adapted to motherhood and this new island life better than he’d thought.

  Oh, like him, she was ever vigilant. Instincts usually had her hand settling on her sword’s hilt every time a problem arose, but she’d always come around, and together they always found a solution to whatever problem had occurred.

  As much as he loved his new life, day to day living on the island was exhausting and challenging.

  The drakelings added to the chaos. They liked to escape their nest and chase after the djinn when he was off helping the humans. Sorac thought his drakelings might view the djinn as walking, talking food. For his part, the djinn didn’t seem to mind that they chased him around and siphoned magical energy from him as often as he allowed.

  Other times, Sorac or Vaspara would wake from a nap or some other distraction to find the hatchlings had escaped their nest and were exploring their surroundings on their own. It was good firedrakes were immune to snake venom, even young drakes were impervious.

  As for the big cats, the only other large predator on the island, they steered clear of Sorac’s domain. So, while hunting down his escaped drakelings could be an exercise in frustration, they weren’t really in danger.

  He had no complaints with his life.

  Today, he was in his natural form again, working near the island’s eastern beach, felling trees they’d later use for building fishing boats and a dock. Vaspara was laboring alongside Callum, Kierdan, and Sylas stripping bark and limbs from the trees Sorac had pulled from the ground.

  Alaya and her two children, Tristan and Myrandis, were working on bundling together long grass that they’d later use for thatching roofs.

  While back at the nest, the djinn and Mattis were watching over and entertaining the drakelings.

  Vaspara set aside the long blade she was using to strip bark and approached his position. “If you’ve flexed your muscles enough for one morning, we’d like to break for a midday meal. Besides, I should check to see if Mattis needs anything.”

  He was just nodding agreement when the defensive spells he and Vaspara had woven around the islands all flared at once.

  Spinning in a half-circle and displacing a cloud of sand, he faced the direction of the nest, the same direction the disturbance originated.

  “That’s a portal spell,” Vaspara shouted as she ran up the slope.

  Sorac flared his wings wide. “Stay here,” he shouted at the humans. “The spell is cutting through the defenses like they’re vapor. It has to be blood magic.”

  Breaking into a gallop, he darted down the beach and launched himself into the air, his wings pounding as
if he flew headlong into storm winds. Terror drove him forward. Terror for his little ones and what the blood witch would do to them.

  Somewhere below Vaspara was shouting his name, but he didn’t have time to double back and snatch her. He had to reach his drakelings.

  The treeless hilltop where he’d built his nest soon came into sight. Roaring, he dropped out of the sky and landed heavily on the hillside, but captains Taryin and Bervicta had already prepared for his attack with a company of the Battle Goddess’s best warriors circling his nest.

  Seeing his little ones captured and wrapped in spells of restraint triggered a deep rage that overrode his fear. He snarled and advanced, elemental fire waking deep within.

  “I would not, Sorac, not if you care for your young.” Taryin craned her neck to look up at him. As she did, she gently ran a hand over the head of one of the drakelings, his firstborn, Sandorian.

  She could kill the little one with a moment’s thought.

  Still growling, he backed up three steps. “Don’t hurt them.”

  “That’s better. Was that so hard?”

  Yes, he thought. Not attacking and tearing you limb from limb is very, very hard.

  He forced his mind to calm as he took in the scene in more detail. The blood witch had the djinn’s bottle tucked into her top. He almost hadn’t noticed, but now that he saw it, his eyes sought the djinn.

  Sorac found him farther back, behind Taryin, her skirts partly obscuring his hunched form. He’d curled forward on the ground, almost like he was bowing, but the power rippling along his form told a different story. The djinn was fighting his own magic, battling the spell of enslavement.

  It was equally clear he was losing that battle. The strain was tearing his corporeal form to shreds.

  “I’ve never read about a djinn fighting a compulsion so hard.” Taryin half turned. “He can’t win, and yet he tries to break free to aid these young creatures.”