No Such Thing as Dragons : Complete Series Box Set (Books 1 - 5)

by Lauren Lively

  The man laughed softly. “It really didn't need to go down this way.”

  “You're a traitor.”

  “I like to think of myself as a freedom fighter, actually.”

  “Freedom from what?”

  He shrugged. “Freedom from a Council who takes us for granted. Who has enslaved us, forced us to serve in the world of man – a world we should be dominating. Ruling,” he sneered. “These humans are weak. Pathetic little creatures. They are nothing compared to us. We are gods and they should worship us as such. Instead, we are bound by our oath to serve them. To be their protectors. To live and die for them. And for what?”

  “Because we took an oath,” I said, the dizziness starting to become overwhelming. “To serve something greater than ourselves.”

  His laugh was dark, bitter, and filled with hate. The man looked at me and delivered a vicious kick to my stomach. The air left my lungs in a whoosh and I was sent sprawling backwards, landing hard on my ass.

  “You can't really be this naive,” he said, a chuckle in his voice. “I mean, can you?”

  “I took an oath,” I said. “I believe in my oath.”

  He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. It was futile, but I tried to shift, tried to summon the dragonfire – nothing. I was without a weapon, without my abilities – I knew my time was coming to an end. After nearly three centuries of life, dying isn't what bothered me the most. It was the fact that I would not be on my feet. I would not get a clean, noble death. I was going to be struck down by a coward.

  The only thing I had left was Ankara. I rolled over and crawled my way over to her. If I couldn't die a noble death, at least I would be with her when I went. It was a small, cold comfort, but it was all I had in that moment.

  I got to my knees, my back to the man. Putting my hand on her body, I willed images of happier times to my mind. I conjured images of her face, of her smile.

  “It is time,” the man said.

  “So be it,” I replied.

  I heard the sound of the blade slicing through the air – and knew no more.

  Chapter One

  Glyn

  Steel rang on steel as I threw my sword up to block hers from splitting my skull open. With my other hand, I thrust my dagger forward, only to find it knocked easily aside by hers. The next thing I knew, the air had been driven from my lungs by a firm kick to my mid-section. I stumbled backwards, but managed to keep my feet.

  Thankfully, because I was able to roll to my right a split second before her sword came down, striking the ground I'd been standing on with a sharp, metallic ring. I was on my feet when she turned to face me, her two blades at the ready.

  A slow grin spread across her face. She had the advantage – had me playing defense – and she knew it. I needed to take that advantage back and put her on the defensive. But she was good. She was absolutely lethal and gaining the upper hand on her wasn't a simple matter.

  I advanced on her, slicing and cutting with an array of quick moves. Nothing complicated, nothing fancy – I just wanted to get her feet moving backward and seize some of the initiative. And it was working. She parried my slices and thrusts with ease – as I knew she would. Advancing on her was a ruse – just something to get her reacting instead of thinking.

  The sound of our blades ringing echoed around the concrete basement we were in. I was sweating and my breathing was a little labored – she, on the other hand, barely looked winded. I pressed forward and when I had her backed up against the wall of the basement, I made my play to take her out.

  I drove my foot forward, the plan being to drive the wind out of her. I saw the small smirk on her lips a second too late – she knew what was coming. She'd been toying with me the whole time. With a speed and grace that was almost unnatural, she spun to the side, my foot connecting with nothing more than the concrete.

  But a moment later, the edge of her blade was against my throat. I shifted my eyes over to her and saw that same arrogant smirk on her face – a smirk that I always seemed to see whenever we sparred. Onda was, hands down, the finest I'd ever seen with a blade. If I ever beat her in a spar, it was a victory I knew I'd earned.

  “You're telegraphing again,” she said, lowering her blade. “I saw what you were doing the moment you started.”

  I grinned at her. “You also have the benefit of knowing me,” I replied. “You know my tells.”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps. But you are going to want to make sure you don't become predictable, Glyn,” she said, a slight touch of concern in her voice. “There are things out there who are absolutely deadly.”

  “I know,” I said and grinned. “I like that you're concerned about me though.”

  “Yeah, well, if something were to ever happen to you,” she said, “I'd have to pick up your slack around here.”

  She walked past me and I reached out, smacking her butt as she went by. She turned around and blew me a kiss.

  “I'm heading for the shower,” she said.

  I was sweaty and pretty sure I smelled absolutely rank. There were no windows in our little basement gym, and the air circulation was pretty bad. But it was a big, wide open space. Which was just what we needed to practice. It was a little difficult practicing since people in LA tended to notice other people swinging swords at one another.

  So, the little basement below the gym was perfect for our needs. It was owned by somebody loyal to the Warden of the territory and it had everything we required – privacy, a private entrance, and showers.

  I watched Onda walking toward the showers, admiring her curves and the shape of her body. She was the most beautiful woman I knew – and the deadliest. But to look at her, you'd never think she could kill you a thousand different ways before you even realized you were dead. She had stark white hair that hung to the middle of her back – a trait common among the Ice Clan. She had eyes that were a crystalline shade of blue that was nearly mesmerizing. Onda was tall – five foot eleven in her bare feet. And she had an athlete's body – strong and powerful – and yet she still retained the soft curves of her femininity.

  If you saw her, you'd see a beautiful, but unassuming woman. Despite the fact that she was a hardened warrior, she looked like the girl next door. She had soft skin and a face that was kind. Gentle. Sweet.

  That sweet face though, hid her true face – that of the Dragonborn Ranger. The warrior. The most efficient and brutal killer to possibly ever come out of Chondelai. I was good, I wasn't going to deny that. But my skills paled in comparison to Onda's. She was flat out incredible. So incredible in fact, that they wanted to make her a Warden after she completed the trials but before she was assigned a post in the world of man. She declined. Said she could do more good on the ground as a Ranger. That her skills were needed in the fight every day.

  And I couldn't disagree with her.

  It's not that the Wardens weren't involved in the fight. They absolutely were. But they handled a lot of the more – administrative – aspects of a territory. Handing out assignments, making sure our forces were equipped and ready, keeping track of the threats – the Rangers were the boots on the ground all day, every day. We were there whenever a threat popped up, we were the first line of defense.

  The only drawback to Onda remaining among the ranks of the Rangers was that our paths didn't cross nearly as often as I would have liked. We usually had different assignments. Different beats, so to speak. But the absence made the time we did have together that much more special, in my mind.

  “You coming?”

  Onda's voice echoed around the basement, the flirtatious tone of her voice more than apparent. A slow grin spread across my face. We didn't always have a lot of time together, but we always made the most of it.

  “On my way,” I called back.

  I sheathed my sword and dagger, dropping both onto the bench beside me. I was already stripping down as I crossed the basement and stepped into the showers.

  Chapter Two

  By the time I got there, steam
was already billowing out of the locker room. I stepped inside and closed the doors behind me, trapping in all of the heat with us. If Onda liked one thing, it was making sure her shower was piping hot.

  I kicked off my boots and dropped my pants, walking across tile that was starting to get a little slick with condensation. The amount of steam filling the room made it a little difficult to see, but I eventually found the wide, carpeted runner that ran through the middle of the room. Although the training area in the basement itself had been left largely alone, we'd made sure to make our locker room a nice, comfortable place.

  We didn't need the bells and whistles to train, but having a nice place to retreat to and freshen ourselves up after a workout was always nice.

  I stepped into the large, open shower area and looked around. Steam filled the area and visibility was almost nil. Even so, I could tell that it was empty. Stepping forward, I felt along the wall until I found the handles and started to turn the hot water down. That's when I felt the arm snake around my neck and clamp down.

  “Touch the temperature and I'll kill you,” she said.

  I turned around and pulled her to me, pulling her body, slick with water, firmly against me. I felt the heat deep inside of me begin to bubble up. I looked down into her eyes, that wicked smile on her lips, and felt myself growing firm and hard.

  “Somebody missed me,” she purred.

  “More than you know.”

  I leaned forward and kissed her. Softly and gently at first. But as she ran her fingers through my hair, I felt the fires within me being stoked even higher and our kissing grew more intense. More passionate. I trailed my hands down her back, cupping her ass and pulling her to me even harder. She moaned as I pressed myself against her and looked at me with a salacious little grin on her face.

  “Looks like somebody missed me too,” I said.

  “Yeah, I suppose so,” she said. “It's not like there was a better option available.”

  I smacked her firm butt and laughed. For being so serious most of the time, Onda always knew how to get a laugh out of me. She had a quick wit and a sharp tongue – two things I very much appreciated about her.

  She planted a line of soft kisses down my neck and then lightly bit my collarbone, drawing a gasp from me. Giving me a small smile, she took me in her hand, squeezing me tight. As she began to stroke me, I threw my head back, my moans echoing around the tiled shower room.

  “I see you haven't lost your touch,” I said.

  “Lucky thing for you.”

  I kissed her and grabbed her by the waist, spinning her around and pushing her back up against the wall. The steam billowed around us as the water poured over us like a waterfall. I kissed her with an urgency born of need and desire. It had only been about a month since I'd last been with her, but it suddenly felt like years.

  My hands roamed her body, and hers explored mine as we kissed. I pressed my body against hers, my hand sliding down between her thighs. She gasped as my finger entered her, and she looked deeply into my eyes, biting her bottom lip as I started to move it in and out. Her moans were soft but persistent as I slipped a second finger in and continued to work them inside of her.

  “I need you, Glyn,” she whispered. “I've missed you.”

  “I've missed you too.”

  I slid my hands under her ass and picked her up. Onda wrapped her legs around my waist and locked her hands behind my neck. Her eyes grew wide and a moan escaped her lips as I slipped myself inside of her, plunging deep. I moved my hips back and forth – slowly at first, gradually increasing my pace.

  Being inside of her felt so good. It felt so right. I pumped myself harder and deeper inside of her, the blended sound of our cries echoing around the shower. I kissed her as I plunged myself deeper and harder inside of her. I could already feel the pressure building up low within me and knew I wasn't going to last very long.

  Her breathing labored, Onda had me set her down. She gave me a sultry smile as she turned around and put her hands on the wall of the shower, jutting her perfect ass at me. Stepping forward, almost dizzy with my desire, I grabbed hold of her hips and sheathed myself deep inside of her again. She cried out as I started to pump my hips with a frantic, almost desperate energy. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh rivaled the volume of our cries.

  She pressed herself back against me, taking me deeper inside of her. I clamped on tighter to her hips, my fingers digging deep into her skin as my desire drove me into a frenzy. Onda looked back at me over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed and a look of pure need in her eyes I was sure reflected the need in mine.

  Onda's body tensed up suddenly and she cried out, calling my name as her orgasm seized her. She trembled and shook, her gasps ragged and hoarse. As she climaxed, she tightened up, gripping me even more firmly. And as I thrust inside of her one last time, it was enough to send me over the edge.

  I felt myself stiffen for a moment as I exploded deep inside of her. I moaned loudly and pressed myself deeper inside of her, filling her with my seed.

  We stayed like that for a few moments as we tried to stop trembling and catch our breath. Slowly, I felt myself deflating and slip out of her. Onda stood and turned around, pulling me into a tight embrace, and kissed me.

  With the water sluicing down over us and the feel of her warm, slick body pressed to mine, the world seemed perfect. Better than perfect. She pulled back and looked me in the eye, a soft, warm smile on her lips.

  “I'm glad to be home,” she said.

  “Not nearly as glad as I am to have you home.”

  She kissed me again and I was overwhelmed by the emotion I felt for her. Onda was everything to me. My partner. My soul mate. And I hoped that one day, she would become my bonded lifemate.

  One day. We had much work to do yet and given our near immortality, we had a very long life to spend with one another.

  Chapter Three

  Vanessa

  I was up before the sun. It wasn't unusual, really – although, I'd decided to forgo my usual five-mile run. I'd always been something of a morning person – much to the chagrin of many. But, it's not like I could help it. That was just my nature. Plus, having a job I loved made it a hell of a lot easier to get out of bed in the morning. I felt like I was one of the rare lucky few who loved what I did for a living. It wasn't always easy – in fact, there were a lot of bad days filled with tears and heartache – but for the most part, my job was fulfilling and made me happy.

  After showering, I poured myself a cup of coffee and got dressed. I sang and danced along to the music that filled my apartment as I drank my coffee. Looking at the clock, I saw that I still had a little bit of time, so I decided to stop by my favorite donut shop on my way into work. Maybe a few sprinkle donuts and maple bars would give everybody a little pick me up.

  And being that it was a Monday, who couldn't use a little pick me up?

  I checked myself in the mirror again as I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and checked the little makeup I wore. Giving my scrubs a quick once-over, I nodded and grabbed a sweater before picking up my bag, my car keys, and headed out the door.

  The drive to the donut shop was a quick one as it was about five minutes from my house – both a good thing and a bad thing. Good when I wanted a quick little treat, bad because I often wanted a quick little treat. For the most part, I behaved myself. Having been an athlete all through high school and college, I'd learned to love exercise and took pretty good care of my body – and watched what I took in. But, every now and then, I'd have a serious craving for one of Miggy's donuts and couldn't do anything productive until I'd satisfied it.

  I stepped into the shop and the man behind the counter – Miggy – gave me a wide, warm smile. Almost the sort of smile a father would give to a cherished daughter – something that never failed to fill my heart with joy.

  “Vanessa,” he called. “Good to see you!”

  “Mornin' Miggy,” I said. “You're looking as handsome as ever.”

 
; He waved me off and laughed. Miggy – aka Miguel Contreras – was a portly, middle-aged Mexican man. In a former life, he'd been a biker – and looked the part. He had a long scar running down the side of his face, from the corner of his eye to his jaw. He had a thick, bushy mustache and beard, and a head that was always freshly shaven. He was a big, imposing looking man, but he had a sweet disposition and personality – something I never would have associated with a rugged outlaw biker type.

  But he'd done some serious time in prison for a triple murder. He'd been defending himself against some rival bikers and things had gotten out of hand. He'd been pretty seriously hurt, but he'd managed to kill all three of the men who'd attacked him.

  He often said it almost sounded like a cliché or some cheesy movie plot, but while he was inside, he changed. His cellmate apparently helped him turn his life around. He got his GED, managed to get an online degree in business through one of the prison's programs. He'd learned a trade – baking – and had apparently fallen in love with it. Something he often said surprised him more than anybody.

  After he'd been paroled, Miggy had gotten an uncle who owned a donut shop to give him a job and help teach him the business. And he'd thrown himself into it. It took some years and a lot of hard work, but eventually, Miggy had been able to open his own shop. And as far as I – and many others around the city were concerned – it was the best donut shop in all of LA.

  Miggy's story was inspiring and I admired the hell out of the man. To come from where he did and build himself into what he was now – how could you not admire somebody like that?

  “How are you doin' today, kiddo?” Miggy asked me when I stepped to the counter.

  There was a rare break in his usual line of customers, so I had a couple of minutes to chat with him, which was nice. Over the few years I'd been coming into his shop, I'd gotten to know Miggy pretty well. Since my own father had died when I was a kid and not a day went by that I didn't still miss him, Miggy sort of filled that void, in a way. Now, he was never going to replace my father, but he was sort of a nice surrogate. Underneath that rugged, tough exterior, Miggy was a good man with a good heart.