I’m sit in the driver’s seat of my car, the sounds of the radio play in a broken, repetitive pattern in the background.
My head hangs forward and my entire body aches. Shards of glass are scattered all over the front seat and I have to shake my head to remove the pieces that have caught within my hair. The irony tint of my own blood overwhelms the car.
I’m, lucky I raised my arms instinctively, otherwise my entire face would have been sliced up by the sharp fragments. They would heal, but as a half blood, things take more time.
The remaining remnants of the shattered windshield now rest in my hands and the broken flesh that shows through my torn skirt.
I tried to focus on the feel of my body as I attempted to assess the damage I’ve taken in the crash. When I move to raise my right arm, a burning pressure pulsates deep within causing me to wince from the pain.
The sounds of car doors slamming in the distance clear my head. I grip my seat belt with my good arm and pull at the latch trying to free myself. It had tightened from the force of the crash and is now way too tight, appearing to be stuck on something. I hurriedly glanced upward to see the glowing lights of the SUV’s parked at the top of the embankment. Several large figures, hidden within the darkness, stepped out and begin making their way down the hillside.
I grab for the seatbelt again and begin to tug. It slips free and I fall forward out the door and onto the damp grass below. The fog that had engulfed the highway above seemed to be less thick down here, but my vision is still cloudy.
Two men descend down the hill and I jump to my feet, unsheathing two blades. “You can still walk away guys. No one has to get hurt here.”
They ignore me, both diving for me at the same time. I slice a blade at each of their stomachs, cutting into one of them and narrowly missing the other. I spin around and face them, deciding that I can do this without my knives and attack.
I slam my fist straight into one of their noses, blood gushing from it as soon as I make contact, before I twist and elbow the other one in the temple. Both moan, gripping their heads.
“Had enough?” I ask, wishing they’d just give in already. This isn’t even a fight. It’s an ass-whooping.
They lunge for me again, and I sigh, sweeping a leg out and toppling them both over. Their heads smack together with a clunk and they fall on top of each other in a tangle of limbs.
I stand there and watch as they struggle to right themselves. This is just pathetic, but they’d attacked me. I move forward, baring my fangs and rip out the first one’s throat. The second tries to run, but I catch him easily enough, drinking my fill as my fangs pierce his neck. What a waste. And whoever they are, or whoever they’re working for, clearly didn’t value their lives if they thought putting them up against me would be an easy win with their two against my one.
The rumble of a motorcycle engine greats me and I plant my hands on my hips, waiting for that gorgeous head of his to peer over the side of the gully.
Sure enough, he does, and I wave up at him.
“Took your sweet time, didn’t you?”
Chapter 6
The silver moon rises high over my head giving witness the twisted wreckage of my car and the tangled body that lay in the steep ditch below me. My foe had the nerve to force me off the road and this was reward.
Road rage is a bitch.
And I’m goddamn unholy avenging angel.
I stand in the moonlight with the copper taste of my attackers’ blood in my mouth, not because I drank, but because these kills were bloody and brutal.
Severed heads lay unblinking, shocked eyes clouded by death, bits of white brain sliding down their bloody skulls and spit by circumstance onto their gruesome bodies. The creatures’ murders came as an utter surprise to those that dared to pit their strength against my skills. It is not a boast to say that I have more years of and better training than most in every martial art known to man. My father would not let his only daughter live vulnerable and afraid of the predations of mortals and immortals alike.
The roar of a motorbike draws near as my chest still heaves from my exertions. Gore streaks my face, jacket, skirt, and boots, and my bun, half undone, waves tendrils in the breeze. I wait for the bike’s rider to appear over the edge of the ditch. My bodyguard will be pissed, and while part of me understands this, there are times when him watching me like a child who will hurt herself rankles.
Obviously, I am no child.
Damon’s hulking frame stands backlit from the moon and though I cannot see the disapproval on his face, I smell it from his wolf musk that grows heavier when he is angry. He peers at the scene of destruction and looks away. Now the moon glints his profile, and his jaw is drawn tight. He walks a find line of tolerance because he is my protector, by I am his mistress. For a wolf-shifter this allegiance is a dicey thing, especially to a half-vampire bitch, whose father is the king of all vampires.
It is said that of all the paranormal creatures werewolves and vampires are deadly to each other. While it is nigh impossible to kill a vampire except by beheading them, and shifters are nearly as immortal as vamps, apparently, we can kill each other swiftly. Our relationship is akin to a cobra and a mongoose, dancing around each other to avoid the killing strike.
“I told you,” he said with a voice thicker than gravel, “that it was a bad idea to go alone.”
“You’re right,” I say with venom in my voice. “It was. But I survived. You should learn that about me, Damon. I’m a tough bitch to kill.”
“If,” he said, “you were that tough, you wouldn’t need me.”
“Who said I needed you?” My boots slipped in muddy earth ripped by my auto’s slide down the grade. I tried again and met with zero result. Bloody hell, I cannot climb the hill.
“As you were saying,” Damon growled as he extended an arm.
Thank god that he had the good sense not to smirk, because I would be tempted to smack it off his face. I’m still in battle frame of mind, where bashing anyone that annoys me seems like a sensible idea. Biting my lip, I took his offered hand and with the strength in his arm he pulled me up over the ledge’s lip.
He held onto my hand for seconds longer than he needed as he stared at me. His back still turned toward the moon and his eyes were shadowed by night and unreadable. But with the blood and gore smeared on me, I must appear a tasty appetizer.
Wolf shifters are not known for their pristine eating habits.
“You’ll have to ride behind me,” he all but snarled. The chrome of his BMW R 1200 GWS shined a snaking cage of metal over the powerful 125 horsepower engine. By comparison the biggest Harley pushed 95 horses. Either of these were faster than most humans needed and only a paranormal creature with super strength could ride to maximum performance.
“Still in a state of pique?” I said lightly, taunting him.
“You don’t want to know the state I’m in,” he growled. Damon swung a leg over the seat and I catch a good eyeful of his taut ass in his jeans. I swallowed because my mouth watered at the sight, and I want to scream at my horny bitch vamp self to settle down. Getting down and dirty with Damon is not in the playbook.
Imagine me taking him home to daddy.
Hey, dad. I’d like you to meet my werewolf lover. I know our kind has been enemies for centuries, but it’s a bit of Romeo and Juliet thing. It would be super cool if you didn’t kill him for fucking your daughter, because I really like him.
Not that Abe had a father’s heart beating within his breast. In fact, he’s so damned old, nothing flushes through that body of his but his latest meal. But he has memories of bloody wars that none of even know about. I mean I topped the thousand-year mark before I stopped counting, and dear old dad is five times as old, at least, though the exact age is difficult because time was not marked in the same way when he was born.
It makes it difficult to get a horoscope chart done on him.
Dad’s failings aside, Damon is not exactly the forgiving type either, so introduci
ng him to the vamp fam was not on my to-do list even if I was doing him, which I most decidedly am not.
But that doesn’t stop me from thinking about it. I am a red-blooded girl restored with the red blood of hale and hearty human offerings, and my motor revs as hotly as Damon’s motorbike under its leather seat.
“Watch your legs,” he said as he straightened the bike under his muscled legs.
“Like I haven’t ridden a motorcycle before. I know not to let the engine burn my legs.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, because Damon takes every road like it’s a racetrack.
“I wonder,” he rumbled as he push started the engine.
Surely, he can suppose I’ve ridden bikes since the time that you kickstarted the engine with one or more several hard jabs of your booted foot, and oil dripped from the chain. Yet, he continues to act as if I’m totally ignorant of the basics.
The wheels sprayed gravel as we gained the paved road, with a takeoff too fast for mortal safety. But we are not mortals, and I leaned my head against his broad back and take in his scent, a heady mix of sandalwood, citrus and his personal musk that leaves my panties damp and my knees shaking. The rumble of the engine shimmies through my groin and my spine, and I nearly gasp with the wave of desire that washes over me. Damn. It’s been too long I’ve had a man between my legs, and it does not help me to keep my resolve that Damon is sexier than a porn star.
Fuck me.
But he is my guard, not my lover and right now he’s bearing me to into the night to back home.
Fucking Morana. She should’ve killed me when she had the chance, but she never was very good at cleaning up her messes.
We seem to be taking a less direct route home. Why? Ahead of us loom a carbon gray line of ubiquitous Irish hills. They never fail to fill any vista.
Quite suddenly we pull out off the road into a brake of a trees and he slowed the bike.
“What are you doing, Damon?”
“Get off,” he snarled.
“What?”
“I said, get off. Can I be any clearer?”
Hesitantly, I slid off the bike and he struck the bike stand and dismounted. The shifter paced, rubbing his jaw with his chin.
“What’s going on?” I said. I can’t see where this little encounter was going as neither Callahan or Brenna would appreciate Damon leaving me in the middle of nowhere.
“I don’t appreciate games,” he growled. His eyes glowed with anger. “I’m supposed to protect you, and I can’t do that if you act like a spoiled little girl and run off when it suits you.”
“I’m not playing games,” I protested.
“Aren’t you?” he said. “Do you have any care what it looks like when you slip from my protection?”
“I don’t know what you mean?”
“You show everyone in my pack that my protection means nothing to you.”
“I—” And I stop because I had not considered that I might embarrass him with my self-sufficiency.
He ran his hand through his hair, thoroughly bedeviled by my lack of understanding of what I put him through.
“My alpha will wonder if I can be trusted with any assignment. My pack mates will think that my protectee does not respect me. I know you are a bass ass vampire chic and you certainly don’t need my help to keep you safe, but by the love of all that’s holy can you just make it look I’m doing my job?”
My mouth gaped open. Here I was railing about the assault on my dignity having a bodyguard and I just about torn his to shreds in front of his pack.
“I’m sorry, Damon.”
“You are?”
“Yes. Where I was, with Morana, I couldn’t count on anyone there. I constantly walked on eggshells making sure that I didn’t upset her, or didn’t stir up resentments, all the while functioning as one of her assassins. I walked in danger each day I lived there and had to think only of myself. This is the first time in a long time that I’ve had to consider how my actions affected others. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
He crossed his arm and looked down on me with his hair hanging in his eyes. It was so sexy that I wanted to reach up and touch those stray curls. Damon’s mouth stretches in a grim line and I dare not get closer.
“Fine,” he said ungraciously. “Get on the bike.”
Damn. What did it take to get through to a thick-headed shifter? My ire rose mixed with the remnants of my battle rage, and once again Damon became an antagonist to take on. This would not be the last word on the matter.
“And as long as you know I am a bad ass vampire capable of destroying multiple enemies without your sanctimonious help, I will thank you for not treat me as a small child. Have a little respect here, shifter. Because you do not want to test my battle skills against yours.
There. Gauntlet thrown. Then why did amusement play in those dark eyes of his? Why did he look like he would burst out laughing?
“Get on the bike,” he says roughly.
“Please,” I say stubbornly.
He bowed a courtly bow as smooth and practiced as if he spent time in one of Europe’s ancient royal courts. Which, he probably did. Strong soldiers like him, with many battles under his belt, would be welcomed in some courts, feted, and even bedded to keep him in their service.
“My lady,” he said sourly. “Be so kind as to mount the motor bike so that I might deliver you unharmed to my master. Please.”
Smart ass.
Not to be outdone, I dipped a curtsy.
“Thank you, unkind sir.”
Ignoring my words, he sat on the bike and started the engine while I climbed behind him. His musk curled in my nose this time stronger, and my world literally tilted. Damn. Is this how shifter lured their mates? My throat grows thick and my breathing speeds up. And then the damned wolf looked over his shoulder with those seductive eyes of his.
“I think I know what you need,” he said.
“You do?”
“Yes. What all naughty girls do. A spanking.”
The motorbike jolted forward, and the engine thrummed between my legs, and his naughty suggestion spun in my head. I can imagine me over his knees while he painted red stripes on my butt with his hand, the pain morphing to pleasure as he rubbed the sting away.
Oh hell. It was too much and the rumbling of the engine was edged my desire higher but not enough to bring me release. I groaned and I hoped Damon did not hear it. Even if he did, he ignored it, and we rolled into the courtyard of Ardgillan Castle with me definitely worse for wear. I’m so horny now that I could screw the first guy I see, and that unfortunately is Damon. I hopped off the machine and slammed my way into the front entrance, screaming that we need to get together now to talk about the creatures that attacked me.
Chapter 7
“I’ve had enough of this shit,” I declared glaring at Callahan and Brenna. “We need to destroy that ring and as fast as possible. I’m tired of being target d’jour for whatever supernatural creature decides that I’m the menu.”
“Lyra,” sad Brenna soothingly. “We understand the depths of the problem but destroying such a ring of power has its problems.”
“I get that we can’t throw it in Mount Doom and have it go melty.”
Blank looks around the room. You would think that Tolkien wasn’t classic material for anyone to read. And considering we were sitting in the library of a castle that archived at least a couple hundred years’ worth of books this seemed strange to me. But the reading habits of werewolves were not my problem. Getting rid of that ring was. Along with getting rid of my protector in this whole ring destroying quest.
Damon stood with his back against the wall next to one long shelf of books. His arms were crossed and he looked down at his boots, and again I cannot fathom what he is thinking.
“Tell us, dear, again, what happened.”
“I told you. A car ran me off the road and creatures I hadn’t seen before jumped me.”
“You? Alone?”
Damon’s eyes flicked up and caught
mine.
“I mean, Damon followed on his motorbike and I assumed that they got between me and him. By the time he found me, I had dispatched the attackers.”
“Dispatched,” said Callahan dryly.
“Darling,” said Brenna. “Remember that Lyra was one of Morana’s elite assassins.”
“Yes. It’s just hard to believe that our little Lyra—but I suppose you are right.”
Little Lyra? Is that what Callahan though of me. I may be diminutive by modern standards but when I was born and grew to full height. It’s hard to think of myself as little.
And I wonder if Callahan respects me at all. Is that why he assigned Damon as my protector? Because he didn’t believe my training and skills served me well? As I told Damon, I had to fight to survive. Being a vampire was tough enough in Morana’s treacherous court, but being half-vamp? You might as well declare me Nephilim with an automatic death sentence on my head.
Wolves don’t give respect. You have to earn it. That’s why I mortified Damon with my little stunt. I risked him losing the respect of his Alpha.
But I’ve fought my share of Alpha bitches and came out on top—each and every time. I should have Callahan’s respect by now. I shouldn’t have to fight for that anymore.
I rose slammed my hands on the table where they all sat. If I have to do a wolf display to get their attention, then I will. So I barred my teeth and growled, which most definitely got their attention.
“I will not be put off by, ‘oh, it’s too hard to do.’ The fate of our people’s vampire and werewolf depend on destroying Morana’s power and to that we have to dust that bauble.”
I glared at Brenna and her daughters, shifters and powerful witches. “If the three of you, the most powerful witches in the world cannot do this, then who can? You may not care about vampires, but do you want to see more wolves die at Morana’s sadistic hands?”
Brenna, Moira and Maeve pass glances between each other and either I swayed them or I overplayed my hand.
Favor: The Kresova Vampire Harems: Lyra Page 5