Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Copyright and Disclaimer
Copyright © 2017 by Lauren Lively
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Facebook: Lauren Lively
Baby for the Dragon
No Such Thing as Dragons | Book 5
Lauren Lively
Contents
Copyright and Disclaimer
Baby for the Dragon
Personal Note
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Uoria (Series Preview)
Saved by a Dragon (Sample)
Loved by a Bear (Sample)
Exclusive – The Bear’s Princess
Exclusive – The Dragon’s Slave
Exclusive – The Dragon’s Treasure
Special Invitation
More from the Author
Personal Note
WOW, I’m blown away by the success of the first book in this series. I had low expectations but thanks to readers like you it was a bestseller topping Amazon charts.
This is the fifth and final standalone book in the series. I truly appreciate your love and support, thank you from the bottom of my heart!
I have also included some extras to show you my love and keep you reading. Let’s go on this great adventure together!
Lauren Lively
Books in this series so far:
Book 1 – Saved by a Dragon
Book 2 – Healed by a Dragon
Book 3 – Loved by a Dragon
Book 4 – Married to a Dragon
Book 5 – This Book!
Prologue
Jerusalem 1187 A.D.
The catapult releases its load and it soars overhead, screaming toward the target. It crashes against the wall with a crack that sounds like thunder, sending a spray of stone shrapnel outward and upward. The men gathered on the ground, their armor and swords glinting in the late afternoon sun raise their hands and cheer as another crack in the formidable wall before them appears.
It is only a matter of time.
I stand on the rise overlooking Jerusalem as the mighty siege engines continue to pound the high, thick walls of the city. The light of the day is slipping away, casting the sky in a deep, vibrant red hue. Much like the blood that will flow in the streets of the city when the walls finally fall. And they will fall. It's inevitable. I've seen humans warring with one another more times than I can count and it always ends up the same way – walls crumble and many people die.
But what humans choose to do with and to one another is not my concern. It is not my place to dictate how they exist together – or choose not to. My only concern is defeating the creatures of the night. The evil that lurks in the shadows. Although they are unseen, reduced to little more than whispers and folklore, it is those dark beings who are the real threat to humanity.
“Master Mytel,” came the voice behind me.
Saladin, the esteemed Sultan of Egypt and Syria – and leader of the Muslim forces arrayed before the city of Jerusalem -- strides up to me, a warm smile upon his face.
“Simply, Mytel, if you please,” I reply.
“As you wish,” he says and turns to watch his siege engines battering the walls of the city, a light of pride in his eyes – but also blended with a hint of despair.
“For many days this has gone on,” he says softly. “Many lives have already been lost.”
“And many more will be lost once the walls come down.”
He nods, his expression turning grim. “This is not what I wanted,” he says. “This is never what I wanted.”
“I know,” I reply.
“Balian has proven to be a formidable adversary,” he says. “Cunning. Intelligent. Devoted. And very stubborn.”
“I've only had the occasion to meet with him once, and my impression of the man is much the same,” I say. “But he also strikes me as a pragmatic man. Surely he can see the inevitable and will take measures to prevent it.”
Saladin's grin is rueful. “He has threatened to destroy all holy sites – Christian and Muslim alike. He says he will raze every building in the city and kill every soul within its walls,” he says softly. “Those do not seem like the words of a man who wishes to take measures to stop the madness before it begins.”
There is a thunderous crack followed by a wave of cheering as a load from a catapult takes a large chunk out of the wall, high up, near the ramparts. Saladin nods to himself. He is an intelligent man and knows how this is going to end – in blood. Lots and lots of blood.
But I also know this is not what he wants. He wants to reclaim the Holy City without bloodshed, if at all possible. But as I've learned, human nature, being what it is, made that an impossible task from the start. Pride and ego – mixed with a healthy dose of religion and greed – makes for more conflict and war than anything. Perhaps, it's the only reason for conflict and war.
“My hope is that Balian chooses to do the right thing for his people,” he says. “And surrenders the city. My wish is to stop the bloodshed before it begins.”
I shrug. “If there is one thing I've learned about humans,” I say. “It is that they posture. They attempt to give themselves leverage when it appears they have none. Balian is in an impossible situation. He has no army. Very few knights. He has been left in charge of the defenses of a city facing an army as grand as yours. In his mind, the threats he has made are his only bit of leverage. He is not a stupid man, great Sultan. He doesn't want to destroy Jerusalem and kill every being within it any more than you want that.”
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p; He is silent for a long moment before finally giving me a small nod. “Perhaps,” he says. “I hope that you are right, my friend.”
He casts a look to the eastern sky and as he stares at the swirling mass of dark clouds in the distance, I see the unease upon his face.
“Is that –”
I nod. “It is a true sign,” I say. “The Rites of Ascension heralding the coming of the Ba’Chul are being performed.”
He nods and forces his eyes away from the storm in the east. We stand together for a long moment, watching the scene unfolding before us, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts. While I'm endlessly fascinated by humanity and the things they do, I am standing on that rise outside the gates of Jerusalem for a reason. And as I look into the eastern sky and see a mass of dark clouds swirling high above the earth, that reason is only reaffirmed in my mind. It is a true sign of what is to come.
The time is coming close. Too close.
“How go the preparations?” I ask.
Saladin nods. “If Allah is willing, you will have your entry into the city tonight.”
I nod. “Excellent,” I say. “Your aid is appreciated and you will be well compensated for it.”
I bite back the words that pop into my head – the words I would really like to say. It's not God or Allah or whatever other deity the humans believe in who is going to save this world. The only thing that will save this world from the very real evil threatening to destroy humanity is me and my kind. I know that on some level, Saladin understands this – which is why he agreed to help us in the first place. But I also know that humans, being who and what they are, must also cling to the notion of powers greater than themselves.
And I chastise myself internally for my thoughts. It is not my place to judge them. Not my place to disabuse them of their ideas and beliefs. My place – my only place – is standing between them and the genuine evil that seeks to eradicate or enslave them.
The evil that lurks beneath the Holy City.
“There are some among my advisors who question your motives,” he says. “Who question your words.”
I nod. Of course, there are. There always are.
“But I have shown myself – my true self – to you, great Sultan,” I say. “You know what I really am.”
He nods. “I do,” he says. “Though, I must admit to having my own skepticism – in the beginning. These men have not seen your true essence. And they have difficulty believing that Allah would create such a –”
He bit off his words, but I know what he was going to say.
“Monster,” I finish for him.
He looks away, his face tight and his expression one of remorse for thinking such a word – something he undoubtedly believes is a high insult.
“Do not trouble yourself, great Sultan,” I say. “Words have no power unless you give them that power. The word monster does not trouble me. Believe me, I have been called worse.”
He turns his eyes to me, his expression conveying both his sorrow for thinking it and his gratitude for my understanding.
“Would it set their minds at ease to see me in my true form?”
Saladin looks at me with an expression that says he isn't sure. Personally, I do not know if it will either. It very well might drive them the other way and lead them to acting out of fear and irrationality. It was one reason we very seldomly revealed our true nature to humans – most did not have the capacity to grasp what we were in our true forms.
Which never failed to amuse me, given their complete lack of hesitance to believe in and embrace their religious symbols – entities they could neither see nor touch. But again, it's not my place to cast aspersions.
“Bring your skeptical friends,” I say. “I will meet you down in the flats beyond the hill.”
Saladin gives me a nod and a thankful smile before turning away and walking back down the rise to gather his men. I take another look at the dark clouds in the eastern sky and as I see bolts of lightning lancing down from the middle of the maelstrom, I feel that familiar sense of foreboding pressing down on me.
Time is running short. Very, very short.
There really is not time for this – or the foreseeable discussions that will follow in its aftermath – but I have no choice. Although Saladin knows and understands the threat facing the world, his men do not. And he is smart enough to know that he will need their support – not just in this campaign, but long after my work here is done.
I stand at the bottom of the gully, waiting. A few moments later, Saladin and his men appear on the lip of the gully, staring down at me. This is a display for them only – the ones who need to understand the peril they are facing. To show my true self to the rank and file fighters of Saladin's army would only confuse and frighten them all. It would likely lead to chaos in the ranks. Defections. Warring with one another.
And that is the last thing I – or Saladin – need right now. While my interest in Jerusalem is not the same as his, we have at least agreed that saving the world is a worthy enough goal that we can work together.
With the thunder of the catapults battering the walls in the background, I looked at the men staring down at me. I see the open skepticism in the eyes of some. Open hostility in the eyes of a few others. I know they don't trust me. Don't like the fact that Saladin and I seem as close as we are – or that he apparently trusts me more than some of them. But then, they don't understand the enormity of the situation we're all facing.
“You – we – all face an evil far greater than you can ever imagine,” I say. “It has nothing to do with Christianity, Islam, or Judaism. It has everything to do with the end of humanity as we know it.”
“And what is this evil you speak of?” calls one man.
“It is the coming of a being who will destroy this world,” I reply. “Those who are not consumed in flame will be enslaved – doomed to forever serve this new, dark master.”
“I do not believe there is an evil we cannot conquer,” another man calls out. “Our war machines can lay waste to any enemy.”
“Not this one,” I say.
“And you believe you can defeat it?”
I nod. “Yes, I can,” I reply. “Me and my kind are not like you. Your vast armies and war machines will be powerless against it. This evil I speak of is one of my kind. And only we can defeat it.”
“Perhaps,” Saladin calls out, his voice echoing around the gully. “You can show these men your true form. Perhaps then, the questions will cease and understanding will take hold.”
I nod and quickly remove my clothing, dropping my breeches and tunic atop my boots on the ground next to me. The men at the top of the gully exchange looks with one another, some of them looking – embarrassed – by my nudity.
But the feeling of embarrassment that seems to permeate the small gathering quickly changes to one of astonishment and then fear as I begin to shift. As I begin to assume my true form. I feel the bones sliding beneath my skin. My limbs elongate and my skin begins to turn to armor.
In a matter of moments, Mytel, the man that had been standing before them is gone. And in his place is me in my true form. Eight feet tall, black wings with a span twice that, four thick legs tipped with razor sharp claws six inches long, a long, sinuous tail, red armored scaling, and at the end of a long, serpentine neck is a snout filled with teeth like daggers – I feel my energy coursing through me. My body hums with power.
I raise my head and stare at the men who look back at me with stark terror on their faces. Several of them have fallen to their knees and are uttering loud prayers to Allah. A low, guttural growl escapes my throat and I open my jaws wide, giving them all a view of the fire that dwells within me – fire that I can use to consume them if I so chose.
But I did not. I wanted – needed – them to understand. To believe. To finally grasp the fact that their world was in peril.
With most of the men still standing rooted to their spots staring at me – puddles of urine beneath the feet of some – I shifte
d back into my human form and got dressed. As I stride up the wall of the gully and take my place beside Saladin, the rest of the men, seeming to be moving as one, take several steps back from me, their eyes wide, their faces contorted in terror.
“Now, you understand,” Saladin says. “That the threat to our world is greater than this fight we have with the Christians. Now, you understand why we are aiding Master Mytel and his companions.”
I look at the group before me, taking a long look into the terrified eyes of each man there. “Are there any questions?”
~ooo000ooo~
The tunnel beneath the wall is complete. We have our way into Jerusalem. The night is dark, the torches upon the ramparts of the city and those burning in the encampment of Saladin's army providing the only illumination. But I don't need a torch. I can see just fine in the dark.
My two men and I, armed and armored, stand behind a large stand of boulders with Saladin. He almost looks disappointed that I'm leaving – like he's losing an old friend. He and I have grown close over the last year or so, and I have to admit to being fond of the man. He's intelligent and sensitive. I believe that he is a good man with a good heart – a rare trait among some of the leaders I've dealt with in my time.
I send my two men down the ladder and instruct them to be sure the tunnel ahead is clear, telling them that I will catch up with them soon. I don't know if I'm going to see Saladin again. I honestly don't know if I'm going to survive this fight. As I look to the eastern sky, the darkened shape of that swirling mass is drawing ever closer, red, blue, and green lights illuminating the clouds from within.
The time is almost upon us. The Rites of Ascension are nearly complete and the Ba’Chul will come into its full power – soon. Very soon.
“You have made quite an impression upon my advisors,” he says, a rueful smile upon his face. “They have asked you to remain and aid us in reclaiming Jerusalem.”
“It is not my place to interfere in the affairs of man,” I say. “Your wars – and your peace – are your own.”
He nods. “This, I understand, my friend,” he says. “Just as I understand your own battle is far greater than our conflict at the walls of this city.”
Baby for the Dragon (No Such Thing as Dragons Book 5) Page 1