Favor: The Kresova Vampire Harems: Lyra

by Graceley Knox

  Brenna cleared her throat. “Of course we don’t want that. Nor do we want to see you harmed. We’ve welcomed you into our home, Lyra, as part of our pack. There is no need to talk harshly about this to us. We’ve been talking every night about this. We have no solutions, not yet, but that doesn’t mean that we will not find them. And in the meantime, we will do our best to protect you, and the other Dria.”

  Callahan nodded his head and then looked at Damon.

  “I expect you not to lose her again, Damon.”

  “Yes, Alpha,” he said with a nod of his head

  I wonder if this means that my little rendition of half-truths did put Damon down a peg with his Alpha. I hope not. But for as much time as I’ve lived with shifters, I still haven’t gotten to the politics right to understand what goes on in their sub-vocal communication. Damon stands as unruffled as before, providing no clue, and Callahan turned to his mate again who made a little noise to get his attention.

  My anger cools as fast as someone shoving a flaming brand in a tub of water. They have been nothing but good to me and here I was blustering like a spoiled child. I should be ashamed of myself, but I’m not.

  This was too damned important. And I wanted to do anything but to concentrate on the heat between my legs when I look at Damon.

  “Have we received any information from the packs that can help us?” says Brenna. “Our spies?”

  “I expect runners any day now,” said Callahan thoughtfully. “I’ll post extra sentries on the borders to keep an eye out for them.”

  “Then that is all we can do for now.”

  The tension in the room deflates like a popped balloon, and I realized the battle rage is totally gone now and I’m exhausted.

  “Lyra, dear,” said Brenna. “I think you could use a shower.”

  I looked down at my bloodied clothes and ran my hand through my hair and picked up little bits of brain which now that I’ve calmed does not seem as fashion forward as when I kicked those creatures asses.

  “You’re right. It has been a busy day.

  Damon shot me a glance that burned right to my core and I remembered his suggestion of a spanking and things did not get any easier at this point.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Alpha, Alpha-mate.”

  Damon walked ahead of me and opened the door.

  “After you, my lady,” he said snarkily.

  Geez, you would think that he appreciated that I didn’t make him look like an incompetent protector in front of his Alpha. I guess it is true that no good deed goes unpunished.

  I wondered about bad deeds, and punishment, and what it would be like, again, for my ass to stick up over his legs while his strong hands jiggled their flesh with strong thwacks.

  “Face it, Lyra. You’re hungry and you need to feed that hunger.”

  I double my steps to walk past Damon and get to my room to strip the disgusting garments from my limbs. Quickly wrapping a large towel around me I wander into the hall. Damon’s there but his attention is taken by one of the comely shifter woman who apparently was very into him. I smile tightly as I continue to the bathroom and had to keep from slamming the door when I entered the room. Of course, he had plenty of shifter females interested in him. That musk of his would draw anyone.

  There isn’t a single reason that I should be jealous.

  Not one little bit.

  Like hell.

  The thought of another woman touching him coursed another round of unreasonable anger through me.

  I sniff my hands and became aware that his scent is all over me, my hands, my neck, behind my ears, my chest where exposed skin pressed against him on the bike. Holy hell. No wonder I’m salivating over him.

  The shower is my only recourse, and as the warm water hits I hope it cools the fire in my lower regions, because this is intolerable. I cannot walk around like this, like a teenager with a crush on a boy. But it doesn’t. Each thought of Damon sparks another wave of desire, as if I’m in heat like a shifter woman, and I cannot take it. I want to crawl the walls and howl and this is not like me.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  My hand finds the tender flesh between my legs that beg for touch, and stroke and fondle and revel in a desire that is so bittersweet that it takes longer than I want or need to come to completion. The water is doing a poor job of washing away Damon’s’ scent, and all I think of is the heat of his body as I pressed mine against his back. Those eyes of his, that seem to pierce my soul, haunt me, and his mouth begs for kisses. I imagine we do kiss and our tongues twist and tangle, his taste so sweet it is the finest confection I’ve ever put in my mouth. And I want more, so much more, and I handle myself roughly because it seems I cannot get there on my own efforts.

  In my mind he enters me and sends me up a ladder of ecstasy reaching higher beyond thought and reason and we are together, one, in the endless dance of life and finally my mind explodes.

  The water spilled over me and washed away my sins of the day, my murders, the blood and the gore, and my treacherous desire. But I’m left with the aftershocks of desire, and frustratingly, I know I’m incomplete. I can pleasure myself any number of times during the day but it will not be the same as being with him and I collapse against the walls of the showers, my tears hidden by the water flowing from the spout.

  I have to pull myself together. I do not know what is wrong with me, but this, these thoughts cannot go on. Damon is my protector, a gift from my host, and I cannot abuse that.

  Slowly I calm as I sit on a bench in the bath and rub in one of the fragrant oils the shifter women prepare into my skin. The repetitive motion of my hand moving on my skin relaxes me and I gain my emotional center again. I just got hyped by the battle. There were so many of them even I feared that I would not survive. My lust was a reaction to that. It’s happened before, why we would have orgies after a particularly tough battle. We worked out through connections of the flesh, the taking of lives. It was a primal reaction and did not mean that I wanted Damon. Not at all.

  With a deep breath, I stood. The shower and the oil relaxed me and I can forget these thoughts that tortured me. I can return to my room now because I was myself again.

  Damon and the shifter woman were still in the hall, with the shifter woman flirting like crazy. His eyes met mine and I gave him a jaunty wave of my hand as if to say, “have fun, guy.”

  Boy, I am a good liar. Seeing that woman flirt with him started to rouse the green-eyed monster again, and I clamped that down hard. Nope. Not going there again. I will not torture myself with thoughts of a sexier-than-sin shifter that I cannot have.

  I enter my room with quick, careful steps, which I had to do because the oil I spread on the soles of my feet threatened to upend me. I hope I can get some sleep tonight, because my overwrought soul needs it. I walked into the wardrobe, appreciating the update work done on this old castle. The walk-in closet is cozy and appeals to my vampire sense of appreciation of tight protective spaces. Maybe I’ll sleep here tonight, on the floor. It’s not like I haven’t slept on hard ground before, and there is nice and soft looking oriental carpet on the floor. I consider this as I look through the drawers for something to sleep in, a disparaging the sleep pants and camisoles for soft and silky gown. A little luxury would be welcome. No one would see me.

  The diaphanous material settled around my body in a soft cloud and it is a balm to my overwrought senses. Between the shower, oil and French lingerie I’m as human as a half-vamp chick can be.

  But I hear the door to my room creaking and I’m wondering what the hell is going on. No one enters without knocking. Cautiously I open the door to the wardrobe, and then caught a familiar scent.

  Oh, hell. What is he doing here?

  I stepped out of the closet to see Damon looking out the window with his back to me.

  Chapter 8

  Nope. Not happening. I’m not letting him see me in this lingerie. Just the thought of that jacks up the overworked libido that I’ve worked so hard
to control. I dart back into the closet.

  “Lyra,” I hear.

  “Just a minute,” I call.

  Like a demon I pull open drawers and find jeans, a t-shirt and underwear and I throw all of this on in record time. I slip on a pair of mules, without socks, but hell, I can barely feel the cold anyway. And because my traitorous tits are poking my nipples through the fabric of the tee, I pulled on a jacket as if I were going out.

  Maybe I should.

  I strolled from the closet casually, trying not to look like a bitch in heat, and held onto the wardrobe door for my sanity.

  “Is there something I can do for you?” I said hoping to god that I sound like a normal person.

  He whipped around and stared at me.

  “You’re dressed to go out.”

  “It’s been a couple months since I fed. And that battle today, well I’m hungry.”

  Oh, I’m hungry alright, but not exactly for blood. It is a struggle not to devour Damon with my eyes.

  “And gee, since you looked busy, I thought I could slip out without anyone knowing.”

  He advanced on me in quick, choppy steps and put his hands on my shoulders. Oh dear holy lord, can he not touch me? Please, don’t touch me.

  “We’ve already talked about that.”

  “Yes, we have. And I promise not to make you look bad to your Alpha. But a girl’s gotta eat.”

  It’s a miracle that my voice is even and not trembling like my knees right now. Damn it! My control is blown and in the next few minutes I’m going to throw him down on the bed. If my knees would let me. I’m in desperate need of support.

  “Lyra? Are you okay? You’re as pale as the moon.”

  “Told you. Need to eat.”

  I’m so lying, but it’s the only lie I have and he needs to get out of this room before I blow things completely with him.

  “Here, let me help you sit.”

  With his arm around me, Damon steered me to the bed, and sank with me into the mattress.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “What the hell for,” I say as nastily as I can. Maybe I can bitch him out of the room. I’ve done it before with other men, but not intentionally.

  “You’ve had a difficult day, and you’re hungry, and I’ve made it worse by acting like an ass.”

  “Think nothing of it,” I said breezily. “I deserved it.”

  “No, I mean it, Lyra.”

  “It’s okay. You got something to do and shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

  “What? Who?” He seemed genuinely confused.

  “The woman you were talking with earlier. She seems very into you, and really I couldn’t be happier for you.”

  “Is that what you think?” He scoffed. “I’ve known Melinda since we were cubs. I have zero interest in her.”

  “But a hands- I mean a good loo- oh hell, you must have someone special.”

  He stands and paces the room. Damon glancing over his shoulder at me. “As a matter of fact, I do. But there are problems.”

  “Oh, I see,” My heart dropped to my stomach. Of course he had someone. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He stopped his pacing and hung his head, then sighed.

  “No. Not really.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said impotently. What the hell am I supposed to do now? The silence between us hung in the air ratcheting the tension so I so the first stupid thing that comes into my head.

  “Is there any hope for you two?”

  He whirled this time, and there is a feral gleam in his eyes.

  “By the goddess, I hope not. It’s impossible.”

  “But you like her anyway, or is it a him?” I throw up my hands. “Hey, one never knows these days.”

  “You have such a smart mouth. I’m surprised no one has smacked the sass out of it.”

  I scooted back on the bed and lay my head on the head board.

  “People have tried. They get their heads handed to them, before they fall over.”

  The gruesome joke sparked mirth in his handsome eyes.

  “I suppose that’s true. That was some impressive fighting today.”

  I blew on my finger nails and rubbed my curled hand on my chest. “Thanks. I am to decrease the vermin population.”

  He moved to the edge of the bed again and sat down.

  “I have an idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Feed off me.”

  “You want me to take your blood?”

  “Why not? I’ll keep an eye on your and you get a meal. You know shifter regenerate quickly. Whatever you take will be back by morning.”

  I made a small, disparaging noise.

  “It’s really not that easy.”

  “No?”

  I shook my head. “When I feed, it’s like I’m getting in the head of well, who it is. It can be an uncomfortable intimacy.”

  “You have something to hide from me?”

  Yes.

  “No. But for the person I feed from it can be an intensely sexual experience.”

  He smiled. “Sounds like a win, win to me. Bring it on. You know shifters walk on the wild side.”

  Oh, how can I refuse that smile? In all my long years on the earth, no one’s smile lights up my undead heart like this shifter. This is bad. I shouldn’t do it. Will not.

  He held out his arm and the flex of his wrist and the pulse of blood through thick veins that cross his tendon fixates me on taking what he offers. My vampire sensibilities snaps into place and my resolve melts away.

  But if I take his wrist then the rest of the pack will know I fed on him. Werewolves do not let vampires feed on them. This could be worse than if the Alpha found out I ditched Damon. And it would undermine his position in the pack.

  “Come here,” I said. And I held out my arms to him. Hesitantly, he scooted to the head of the bed.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “We can’t know what scarring this would cause,” I say. “Regardless of how fast you heal, there would be some mark. Do you trust me?”

  “Hell no,” he said with mischief in his eyes.

  “Good answer.” I pulled up his t-shirt and rubbed a patch of his chest just over his heart. And true to his werewolf nature, his chest was hairy. But the hair also trailed invitingly down to his waist, and I imagine, below, and I have to steel my thought to keep from going “there” again.

  With my fingers I pinched the area I rubbed to bring more blood to the top.

  “Hmmm,” he said.

  “You like that?”

  “No one’s ever done that before, but yeah, I like it.”

  “I don’t imagine you let a vampire feed from you before.”

  “I haven’t.”

  I can’t help it that I’m bad because I pinched his nipple too. He jumped.

  “Ouch,” he complained. “You going to suck there?”

  “Only if you want me too.”

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  “Oh,” I say with mock disappointment. “Well, another time then.”

  “There remains to be seen that there would be another time.”

  “Good point. I should take what I can get now.”

  “Is there anything I should do?”

  I continue to rub his skin. On another I would stroke his neck or some other sensitive part. But in an unexpected way I’m protective of Damon. I don’t want to use him like I would some other man.

  “No,” I murmur calmly, hypnotically. I’ll do this gentle and take him in a feeding trance easy. He won’t feel pain, only pleasure. “Just relax into me, that’s it, put your head on my arm, and relax.” I continue to stroke his chest and he relaxes, almost as if he’s falling asleep.

  “How do you feel?” I ask.

  “Great,” he said sleepily.

  “And you’ll continue to feel great. There’ll be a sharp pinch, but only that, and no pain. And I be right there with you.”

  “Sounds good,” he replies as his eyelashes flutter. He
’s ready. I shouldn’t delay this any longer. My fangs descend and I pierce his skin.

  Chapter 9

  After 1000 years of life, a certain level of wisdom is expected.

  You should be, if not a sage, at least like one of those self-help gurus, always with a bit of glimmering enlightenment or formative experience to share. After more than 1000 years in the court of the vampire queen, this was my wisdom.

  Swords are fucking scary.

  There's just something about sharpened metal flying past your fast that guns can't really touch, intimidation wise. Any asshole can pick up a gun. Mastering a sword takes time and dedication to training, the kind of single minded focus that won't hesitate to cut you into little bitty pieces.

  Another blade flashes less than an inch away from my face, probably taking a few strands of my hair as I dodge, and I decide there is one thing scarier than a sword.

  Werewolf twins with katanas.

  The bright sound of metal on metal rings through the cold, snowy morning air, and for a moment everyone in the compound raises their heads from the mundane chores of keeping a werewolf enclave running to look in the direction of the practice ring.

  The impact of Moira's overhand swing is nearly enough to knock the short blade out of my hand, leaving my fingers numb and tingling and my feet sliding on the icy ground. But it also leaves her guard open. I jab forward with the katana in my other hand, but Moira leaps out of the way with a graceful flip, leaving nothing but a whirl of snowflakes where she was. I'm prevented by following as Maeve comes at my flank with her own sword.

  "The katana is not a rapier!" Maeve scolds, her jiujutsu strikes fast as lightning, but not fast enough to get past my guard. If I have one advantage here, it's that I'm definitely faster than both of them. "Stop trying to stab with it!"

  "And put your wakizashi away," Moira adds, darting back in from my other side, said wakizashi barely stopping her from taking my head off. "Having two swords out at the same time makes you weaker with both!"

  "Lecture me after you beat me," I snap, throwing Moira off with the wakizashi again and making a quick, low sweep with my katana that nearly guts them both, sending them darting backwards in a flurry of snow and buying me a little breathing space.