Favor: The Kresova Vampire Harems: Lyra

by Graceley Knox

  "One of these days I'm going to get you both in fencing gear," I say, pointedly reversing my grip on the wakizashi rather than putting it away. "See how you like it."

  "Fencing is as pointless as its foils," Maeve says, not attacking but circling me slowly, katana at the ready. Her sister mirrors her, snickering at the pun. "The katana is a weapon of war. Fencing is a tool for spoiled aristocrats to settle petty insults."

  "What a coincidence," I say, holding my katana out like an epee even though it's far too wide and heavy for it. "I'm feeling pretty petty and insulted right now."

  Maeve's expression twists with disdain at my improper handling of her favored weapon. She darts in, taking advantage of my 'improper' stance, Moira right behind her. But I was expecting as much. I've been practicing with these two long enough to recognize Maeve's favorite move when she's pissed. An overhand to knock my sword aside reversing into an upward slice. But as her katana meets mine I twist my wrist in a flicker-quick fencing parry. The katana is hardly made for it, but what is vampire strength and speed for if not dumb bullshit like this? It works well enough to divert her blade and leave her confused for the second I need to stab hard into her stomach. Moira is already on top of me with her own follow up strike, but seeing her sister go down distracts her long enough for me to get my wakizashi under her guard and against her throat. This fight is finished.

  Moira retreats to help Maeve up out of the snow while a flurry of applause rises from the sidelines, where Damon and a few others have gathered to watch the fight. I glance up and catch Damon's eye. He smiles at me as he claps.

  "Monstrous, babe," he says. "What the hell was that you did at the end?"

  "Fencing trick," I summarized, grinning proudly.

  "You ripped my armor," Maeve complained, picking at a hole in her practice gear where I stabbed her. Moira just laughs.

  "You're the one who only wants to practice with sharps," I tease her.

  "When are we going to see you in the ring, Damon?" Moira calls out.

  "I practice with you guys all the time," Damon replies.

  "Not with us." Maeve rolls her eyes. "With Lyra!"

  "Never," Damon says immediately chuckling. "Not a chance."

  "Because I'd destroy him," I say, grinning at him.

  "Why do you think we want to see it?" Moira giggles and Damon fakes an exaggerated scowl, crossing his arms over his chest. I can't resist leaning over the wooden barrier of the practice ring to kiss the frown from his lips.

  A whistle catches all our attention and we look up to see Callahan and Brenna approaching. Damon nods respectfully to his Alpha as the man approaches, and I wave to Brenna, who smiles and me and waves back. I haven't had a mom in a long damn time, but Brenna's quiet strength and warm smile reminds me of one.

  "Looks like you're staying in good shape," Callahan says as I step out of the practice ring to greet him. I hand off my weapons to Maeve and Moira to be put away and begin shedding the clunky practice armor.

  "Now isn't the time to be letting those skills get rusty," I reply with a small laugh. "You looking for a sparring partner?"

  "I only spar with Brenna these days," Callahan says, winking at his mate, who grins at him.

  "So what's up?" Damon asks. "Or are you just visiting?"

  "Unfortunately, no," Brenna replies, her smile fading. "We've got bad news."

  Damon takes the Alpha and his mate inside while I finish cleaning up. I hurry to join them in the meeting room, gathered around a heavy wooden table, a fire burning in the stone hearth to keep off the chill of the snow outside. An elegant golden ring glitters on the table between them as I sit down next to Damon.

  "Is that-?"

  "Morana's ring of protection," Callahan answers my question before I can finish it.

  "Why hasn't it been destroyed?" I asked, concern growing. "The spell-"

  "It didn't work," Callahan says. "It did nothing at all."

  "Maybe it has to be done by me?" I ask, hopeful.

  "By all means," Callahan says graciously. "Please try."

  I took a moment to remember what Leander had told me and collect the materials, laying them out on the table around the ring. A heavy iron hammer, a lump of unworked metal, a piece of fine linen, and dried flax flowers. A spell of unmaking. I stand over the table and concentrate my power on the ring, whispering the words Leander taught me. I feel the magic build, cresting like a wave- and then dissipate, collapsing like a Jenga tower.

  "Shit," I mutter, looking down at the completely untouched ring.

  "See?" Callahan shakes his head in frustration. "Nothing."

  "I think the spell itself might be flawed," Brenna explains. "Something misinterpreted or forgotten perhaps."

  "Or just wrong to begin with," Damon scoffs. "The guy was six sheets to the wind when he gave you that spell and working on seven. You can't trust a Fae, and you definitely can't trust a drunk Fae."

  "Then what do we do?" I ask, chewing my lip as I look down at the ring. "We can't risk Morana getting her hands on this again. It has to be destroyed. Fuck, anyone know the way to Mount Doom?"

  "Unfortunately, there aren't any primordial volcanoes available at the moment," Callahan says with a rueful smile. "Not that I'm sure even that would work. This was Fae forged. It needs Fae magic to unmake it."

  I take a deep breath, gripping the edge of the table.

  "Okay," I say. "So we go back to Dublin, we find Leander and we wring his stupid neck until he gives us the right spell."

  "Is that smart?" Damon asks, sitting up straighter, frowning in worry. "Fae are tricky. You were lucky to get what you did from him and get away safe. If you go in there telling him he fucked up and demanding he fix it..."

  "There's also the issue of Morana," Brenna points out. "She may expect you to seek out Leander now that she knows we have the ring. Going back might be walking directly into a trap."

  "Do we have any other options?" I ask, hoping one of them might have a suggestion. "Is there any other way we could destroy this ring? Anyone else who might be able to give us the spell we need?"

  "There are other banished Fae on earth," Callahan says. "But none as easy to find or to bribe as Leander. We could attempt to find one, but..."

  "But it will take time we don't have," Brenna finishes for him. "Which brings us to the other matter we must discuss."

  "Morana knows we're sheltering you," Callahan says. "And she's started targeting shifters."

  "Children." Brenna is still with quiet anger and grief, her fists clenched in her lap. "She's been taking children. The evidence suggests that she's been... feeding on them."

  Guilt hit me like a freight train. I sat down heavily, horrified. I knew Morana was evil, but children? And it was my fault. I covered my mouth with a shaking hand, unable to think of anything but the children who would never grow up, because of me.

  Callahan sighs, dragging a hand through his hair.

  "The other packs are furious," Callahan says. "Understandably so, but they blame you. We did our best to dissuade them, but they believe the best way to stop Morana and restore peace is to deliver you to her, which is presumably exactly what she wanted when she started this. So, in addition to our other troubles, you must now also be on the alert for other Wolves."

  "That's just what we needed," Damon says with a heavy sigh.

  "I'll fix this," I say, taking a deep breath to steady myself. "I swear. I don't know how but... Morana will pay. In the meantime, maybe we can at least convince the other packs to work together on some sort of defensive action. I can give them tips on defending from Morana's forces. It might not be much, but if we can at least stop her from getting any more children..."

  "I'll see what I can do," Callahan assures me. "They are angry and afraid, but I'm sure they'll listen to reason for the sake of protecting their children, if nothing else."

  "This isn't your fault," Damon says, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Morana did this, not you. That blood is on her hands, not yours."
<
br />   "You know that isn't true." I don't push away his comforting touch, but I can't believe him either. "If I hadn't shown up, if I weren't the Dria, if I hadn't decided to fight her, none of this would be happening. She would never have gone after the Wolves if it weren't for me."

  "I don't believe that for a minute," Callahan said with a snort. "She's a power hungry mad woman. She would have decided we were in her way eventually, one way or another. Damon is right. You can't blame yourself for this."

  Brenna puts a hand over mine, squeezing gently. She smells just faintly of lavender and I fight the childish urge to hug her.

  "You're doing all you can," she says. "We all know how hard you're working. When you're the leader, it can be easy to blame yourself for every terrible thing that happens under your watch. But even a queen can't do everything. You couldn't have predicted this or stopped it. All you can do is move forward, repair what you can, and try to stop more damage from being done. And the best way you can do that right now is to focus on finding your consorts, becoming a fully blooded queen, and defeating Morana."

  "Just remember that you aren't doing this alone," Callahan adds.

  "You have all of us behind you," Damon confirms. "I'm with you to the ends of the earth, Lyra. Always."

  Chapter 10

  Callahan and Brenna talk strategy a little longer before leaving, carrying a plan to try and help the Wolf packs defend against Morana.

  I spend the rest of the day distracted, trying to focus on researching Fae magic that might fill in the gaps in Leander's spell, or give us another lead. I try sparring with Moira and Maeve again and get my ass kicked. My thoughts just keep returning to how all of this is my fault, wondering if there was anything I could have done to prevent this.

  Finally, I give up and head to my room for the night, exhausted by the circles my mind is running in. I hadn't been there long, barely enough time to change clothes, when there's a knock at the door.

  "Can I come in?" Damon asks through the door.

  "Since when do you ask?" I laugh a little, surprised by the uncharacteristic consideration. He takes that as permission, shutting the door behind him. He seems troubled, frowning as he looks at the bed instead of me. I focus on finishing getting ready to sleep, brushing out my hair as I wait for him to say whatever he's working up the nerve to say.

  "Still worrying about what we heard earlier?" I guess when he stays silent. "It's a setback. I'm stressed about it too. But we'll figure it out."

  "That's not what I'm worrying about," he says, cutting me off.

  "Then what is it?" I ask, putting down my hairbrush and turning to face him. When he remains silent I touch his face, turning his chin to look at me. "Damon, tell me."

  "It's too many things," he admits. "With the Le Tireur after you, the target on your back is about to get a lot bigger. And Brenna's right, the only way to finish this it to become a fully blooded Dria."

  "Is that what's bothering you?" I ask as gently as I can. "The other consorts?"

  I see the way his jaw tightens, the flash of pain in his eyes, and I know I'm right.

  "You won't be safe until you're at full strength," he says. "And to reach full strength you need a harem."

  "It's not a harem," I say quickly, taking his face in both hands, but he pulls away from me. "Damon. You know how important you are to me. I… I have to do this, but it's not going to change anything between us."

  "How can it not?" Damon says, a little too loud. I can see the frustration in the tense set of his shoulders. He looks at me, eyes dark with conflicted feelings. "You're my mate. MINE. And I'm going to have to watch you fall in love with two other people."

  My heart skips a beat at his declaration, then sinks just as quickly as I realize he's right. I search for the words to reassure him

  My heart skips a beat at his declaration, then sinks just as quickly as I realize he's right. I search for the words to reassure him and can't find them. There's no way to make this better, no right answer. I have to find my other consorts if we want to have any chance against Morana, and it's too late to go back and pretend I never challenged her.

  "I'm sorry, Damon," I say, my heart aching. Was I going to lose the man I loved for the sake of two people I hadn't even met yet? Could I still be queen without him? And if he stuck around out of a sense of duty, could I bear to see him suffer that way, our relationship damaged beyond repair and put aside for the sake of vampire politics and prophecies? It wasn't fair.

  "I'm sorry too," Damon says, and turns away from me, opening the door. I watch him leave, wondering if this is the point of no return for us and at a loss for how to make him stop.

  But he hesitates, his hand on the doorframe. I gather myself to try and say something, and before I can he turns and grabs me. He drags me into a fierce kiss, teeth hitting teeth, lips bruising, his grip on my waist almost painful. But I throw myself into it anyway, welcoming the pain, half feeling I deserve it. His tongue is hot in my mouth and I can taste his blood, sweet and coppery, from where my fangs caught on his lip. His hand slides into my hair, gripping it just tight enough to sting, and he leans over me, leaving me off balance, feeling like he might devour me just to keep me to himself. He doesn't break the kiss until both of our heads are spinning from lack of oxygen. His forehead against mine, he looks into my eyes, his own molten with desire and still touched with pain.

  "I want you," he whispers. "Just once, while you still belong only to me."

  His words light a fire in me, my heart racing. I pull him back into the kiss without a second thought and he fumbles to shut the bedroom door behind us as he pulls me up into his arms, his burning kiss leaving me breathless and lightheaded. Let him devour me, if that's what he needs. Right now, I'm happy to be consumed.

  He throws me onto the bed, the impact a surprising shock, and grabs my hip, flipping me over on to my stomach. He drags my hips up into the air, shoving my silk night gown up. His roughness is thrilling and a little frightening at the same time. I can feel his frustration, his strength, the grip of his strong hands on my thighs, the sting of his kiss still on my lips. Maybe I should stop him, try to calm him down.

  But then I feel his tongue, wet and hot as a brand, sliding over the gusset of my lace underwear. Yeah, I'm definitely not going to stop him from doing that. I press my face into the sheets to muffle my groans as he pulls my underwear aside and buries his face in my folds. He's wasting no time on teasing. His tongue is relentless and irresistible, rolling against my clit ceaselessly. His fingers slide inside me, pressing against my inner walls even as his tongue continues to take me apart. I bite my tongue, stifling curses as pleasure rolls through me like an earth quake.

  He stops, and I almost whine at the loss, but he only leaves long enough to grab my hair, pulling my face out of the blankets.

  "Let me hear you," he demands. "Let everyone hear that you're mine."

  I swallow hard, almost dizzy from the rush of arousal the order causes me. But it's got nothing on the wild, breathless pleasure I feel as he puts his mouth on me again, even more intense than before, his hands squeezing my ass, my thighs, nails dragging over my skin, or sliding within me, pressing against my inner walls in time with the relentless swipe and suction against my clit.

  I don't have any choice but to obey his order, losing control of my voice entirely as he pushes me over the edge, my hips shaking and my vision whiting out, and then keeps going, holding me in place to keep me from getting away as he continues to devour me, my oversensitive nerves burning. I cry his name until I lose coherency entirely, reduced to wordless begging. Only then does he finally relent, releasing me. I sink onto the bed, my thoughts a blank, completely overloaded by the intensity of the orgasm only now fading into a dull, wanting ache inside me.

  I hear the click of Damon's belt, the shuffle of fabric, and then his hands on my hips again, raising them to where he wants them. I look back as he kneels on the bed behind me, and I finally feel the heat of his cock against me. I brace myself
as he slides slowly inside, groaning at the sweet sensation of him spreading me open. He's big, almost more than I can handle, though his thorough preparation certainly helped. I feel him settle deep within me as his hips meet the back of my thighs and I shiver in anticipation of what's coming.

  He leans over me, his chest warm against my back, his weight pushing me down into the mattress. He kisses the back of my shoulder, my neck, then grips my hair tightly again as his lips find my ear.

  "Let me hear you," he says again, rolling his hips just to grind within me at the same time he pulls on my hair, wringing a needy groan from me. "Let me know that no one else can give you this. I'm the only one who can make you feel this good. Let me have one part of you that they can never touch."

  "Yes," I gasp, not even caring what I'm promising right now, barely even coherent. "Yes, please, Damon!"

  He straightens up just to pull out, almost all the way, leaving me feeling empty and needy without him.

  "Mine," he whispers, a growl that rises to a snarl as he slams in as hard and deep as he can. "MINE."

  He fucks me with a speed and ferocity I've never experienced. I've heard a lot of guys claim they would plow me into the mattress, but Damon is the first one I think might actually manage it. Every strike is so intense it's almost painful, driving the breath out of me and the strength out of my legs. I wouldn't be able to keep my hips in the air if it weren't for the sheer momentum of his furious thrusts. I can't even speak, feeling like my brain has short circuited. He slides a hand under me to rub circles over my already over sensitive clit and I find my voice again, if not my words. I feel like an animal, being bred like an animal, making an animal's senseless, needy noises.

  "Lyra," he gasps above me, his nails digging into my hips. "God, Lyra!"

  He bends over me again, a hand gripping the sheets by my head to support him as his thrusts become shorter, hard and fast. I throw my hips back into them with all the strength left in my thighs as he smothers my back and shoulders in kisses. My breath catches as I feel his teeth graze my skin, then sink in, biting down hard on my trapezius. Not enough to break the skin but enough to feel it, the sudden spark of pain sharpening the pleasure to razor's edge. I cum again, squeezing down hard on him as pleasure washes over me, almost enough to drown in.