Favor: The Kresova Vampire Harems: Lyra

by Graceley Knox

  But he's still going, his teeth in my shoulder, his arms around me, his cock throbbing inside me as he continues to ride me as hard as he's able, even as his rhythm begins to fall apart, growling curses into my skin, and my name a thousand times until finally he thrusts in as deeply as he can and I feel the spreading heat of his cum within me.

  We stay as we are for a long, lingering moment, the room quiet but for the sound of our ragged breathing. Finally he pulls free and I reach out to drag him down beside me. He holds me close, peppering kisses over my face and throat and especially the bruise already developing where he bit me.

  "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry, Lyra."

  "It's okay," I tell him, stroking his hair. "It's alright. We're alright. Just don't let me go."

  He holds me a while longer, until the exhaustion of the day and multiple orgasms begins to make my eyelids too heavy to keep open. He releases me slowly, carefully, and presses one last delicate kiss to my cheek before he gets out of bed, fixes his clothes, and heads for the door.

  "Damon," I call out to him softly, and he looks back at me. His brow is still furrowed with worry, the conflict that was there when he came to my room unchanged. "Stay." I plead, asking for more than just his presence in my bed for the rest of the night.

  But he shakes his head, guilt clear on his face, and shuts the door behind him as he leaves.

  Even before the door shuts behind him I've already forgiven him. This is an impossible situation and causing him this pain already feels like carving out my own heart. What will happen has to happen. And it might tear us apart in the process.

  The next morning, there's no sign of Damon at breakfast and I poke weakly at my own, struggling to find interest in eggs and bacon with all that's happening.

  Moira and Maeve sit down on either side of me with their own breakfast, snapping me out of my funk with the slam of their trays hitting the table.

  "What are you moping about?" Moira asks, stealing a piece of my bacon even though she already has a pile of her own.

  "Take your pick," I sigh, pushing the rest of my plate towards her. "Morana, the drunk fairy god's shitty spell, the Wolves, the dead children, the two other consorts I still need to meet and the one I already have and might lose because of all this bullshit-"

  "Ooh, that's tough," Moira says sympathetically, patting my shoulder and accepting my bacon. Maeve pulls my plate away from her sister and back in front of me.

  "Eat your eggs," she says. "You need the protein. There's more bad news."

  "God, don't tell me," I groan, pushing my plate out of the way and putting my head on the table.

  "Two kids went missing from our neighboring pack to the south last night," Maeve says anyway. "One of them was the Alpha's daughter."

  I put my face in my hands, the grief sudden and sharp. Jesus, not another kid. I couldn't be responsible for another dead kid. And the Alpha was going to be out of his mind with pain. If they didn't declare war on this place by the end of the day I'd be fucking shocked.

  "That's enough," I say, sitting up, pushing the grief and all my other worries down somewhere to be dealt with later. "God, that's more than enough. It's time to do something about this."

  "What are you going to do?" Moira asks. "Turn yourself in to Morana?"

  "No, I'm going to stop her," I say sharply, standing up. "I'm going back to Dublin to get the unmaking spell from Lysandre."

  "What if it's a trap?" Maeve points out.

  "Well then Morana will have me and maybe she'll stop killing kids!" I say in a frustrated rush. "Win-win!"

  "That's stupid," Moira says.

  "I don't care!" I throw my hands up, anger boiling beneath my skin. "I'm going to stop her, one way or another!"

  "You're only halfblooded," Maeve says. "And you're not exactly the strongest to begin with."

  "I'm my father's daughter," I tell her, anger solidifying into resolve. "I'll find a way."

  "That's all you had to say," Moira replies with a grin, standing up alongside Maeve. "We're coming with you."

  Chapter 11

  “So what exactly is the plan again, Lyra?” Moira asks from the backseat of the SUV as we speed down the winding roads of the middle of nowhere Ireland.

  “We find the witch that gave Morana the ring in the first place so she can help us figure it out.” And pray that she knows something other than nothing.

  “Got it. And how exactly are we going to find her?” Maeve asks.

  “We’re going to beat the shit out of that Fae, Leander until he’s sober enough to either give us the right spell to destroy this hunk of metal, or he’s going to tell us where she is.” Gods willing he’ll be lucid enough to speak to us.

  “And if he doesn’t?” Damon asks, sliding his hand over my leg. I shiver at his touch, and he squeezes my thigh.

  “Then I guess we get creative.” I shrug. I wish I had all the answers for them, but honestly, I’m flying by the seat of my pants here. It’s not like this prophecy that brought us all here came with a neat little instruction manual and maps.

  Hours later, we pull up to the ramshackle church that Leander has decided to take over as his own. Damon whistles at the sight and I shake my head. Aurora wasn’t kidding. This place looks like it will collapse with the next strong wind.

  “Leander!” I shout. “Leander, I’m a friend of the Dria queen, Aurora, and I come bearing whiskey!”

  A metal clang sounds from inside and I let one hand hang down near my knife at my thigh. For all I know, the drunkard Fae is going to come out swinging at us.

  The white door of the church flies open, and the man I’m assuming is Leander props himself against the jam. “It is I, Leander, who goes there?”

  His words are slurred at best, but his gaze is sharp as he appraises us.

  “I’m Lyra, a friend of Aurora’s. We’ve come for more information about the ring that Morana once wore.”

  Leander rushes forward, shoving his palm over my mouth. “Shh, don’t say her name out loud. You will summon the bitch!”

  Damon growls at the Fae. “Remove your hand, or I’ll chop it off.”

  “Oh, testy, testy.” Leander giggles. “You said you brought whiskey?”

  I wave the bottle covered in a brown paper bag. “Yes, but only after you tell us what we need to know.”

  Leander sways, hiccupping. “I already told the Dria what she needed to know. I gave her the spell to break the binding on the ring.”

  “Yeah, it didn’t work. We tried it multiple times, in multiple ways. Nothing works.”

  “Well that’s a shame…” He looks off into the distance, his lips pursed.

  “Yes, it is. Because we need to weaken she who shall not be named so we can remove her from power. We’ve wasted a lot of time trying your shitty spell, so give us the correct one. Or better yet, tell us where the witch who’s family was supposed to protect it lives and we’ll go ask her.”

  Leander straightens up at the mention of the witch. “Very few people know where that traitor lives.” He sneers at the word traitor. “Even if I wanted to tell you where to find her, I do not know where she is.”

  I stifle the urge to kick at the ground in frustration. “You said very few people know where she is. Do you know any of the people that know that location?”

  Leander hiccups again, looking intently at the twins. “You two are magical. I can see the sparks of energy around you.” He smiles dreamily at them.

  I snap my fingers in front of his face. “Hey, focus, Leander. Give me a name of someone who can tell us where she is.”

  He frowns at me, before tapping the tip of my nose. Damon growls again, taking a step forward, but Leander waves him off with a raspberry. “Relax, wolf. I won’t harm the Dria.” He places his hands on his hips and rocks forward, a bit unsteady. “Seamus is the one you’ll need. If anyone knows where that traitor is, he will.”

  “Seamus? And where can we find this Seamus?” I ask, running out of patience with the intoxicated
Fae.

  “I expect payment first, little queen, and then I’ll tell you.”

  I shove the bottle of whiskey at him, almost bowling him over. “Now, Leander. Tell me or I’ll make sure Aurora’s weekly shipment of your favorite booze stops.”

  “That’s just rude.” He huffs.

  “Leander…”

  “Alright, alright. Hold your horses.” He opens the whiskey, drinking a fourth of it in one gulp before his now bleary eyes meet mine. “There’s only one place to find, Seamus.”

  “Spit it out before I rip out your tongue!” I snap, my patience completely obliterated.

  “At worlds end, of course.”

  After we’d figured out that Leander didn’t literally mean the end of the world, but the name of a pub, we’d piled in the car and headed straight for the airport and the teeming streets of London.

  Instead of flying commercial this time and having to jump around all over the place to avoid detection by Morana’s eyes and ears everywhere, we’d borrowed the packs private jet, landing within a few hours, tired, travel worn, and hungry.

  We’d booked two adjoining suites, one for Damon and me, and another for the twins. After a promise to meet back in an hour to head down to the Worlds End Pub, we all go our separate ways.

  I sit down on the edge of the bed, bouncing a little from just dropping on to it.

  Damon comes to stand in front of me, tipping my chin up with a knuckle. “What is it, precious?”

  I sigh. “I’m just tired, that’s all. I think everyone forgets that I’m only half vampire, so I can actually get tired if I don’t recharge. I don’t need a ton of time to do it, but it’s still required.”

  He moves his hand to the back of my neck, his thumb rubbing at the base of my skull, the pressure on the knots there making me moan.

  “Mmm, that feels good.”

  “We need you at the top of your game, Lyra. Talk it out with me. What’s on your mind?”

  He drops his hand, and I pout, but before I can ask why he stopped, he picks me up, and sits leans against the headboard of the bed, placing me between his thighs in front of him. I rest against him, letting him massage my shoulders.

  “What if this Seamus is another dead end? No one knew anything about him when we quickly asked around, and that’s either a good thing, or a bad thing. I just don’t know which.”

  “You are one of the Dria queens. You’re a deadly assassin, you’ve got a team at your back, ready to help you fight for the freedom of your people, and you’ve got me, too.”

  I kiss his jaw, before closing my eyes and thinking over his words.

  “I know I do. Doesn’t mean I can’t be a little scared. It’s not like Morana is some tame house cat.”

  “That she is not. But we will weaken her, and then we will strike.”

  “Okay, so that part is figured out. That’s great. But what about us?” I rub my hand down his thigh, enjoying the flex of his muscles under my fingers.

  “I’m not going anywhere, precious.” He kisses the back of my head.

  “Even if I have two other consorts or mates or whatever you want to call them? That’s not going to bother you?” I hate to even bring it up, but I know that wolves are very possessive and protective of their mates. He’d just about taken Leander’s hand off for touching me. What would he do if I was sleeping with another man? Feeding from him?

  “I’m not sure if it will bother me. The thought of another man putting his hands on you doesn’t sit right with my wolf. But I spoke with Carver and Lucian and Marius about it and they told me how it works with them.”

  “Oh yeah? Do share.”

  “Carver could care less, so long as Aurora is happy, he’s happy. Lucian is a bit more old-school and had some issues with sharing her. Marius has a possessive streak, like I do…” he chuckles, “so they all spoke about it with each other, learned to trust each other, and decided that they wouldn’t share her bed at the same time. They each get time with her, one on one, and in a group. Their first priority is her.”

  I nod. Sounds like heaven to have three men whose sole desire is to ensure you’re happy. Also sounds like a lot of work juggling all those personalities. “So you’d be okay with something like that?”

  “I don’t think I have a choice. I’m unwilling to let you go, mate.” He wraps his arms around me, holding me against his chest. “I just want to know that when we’re together, you’re with me. Body, mind, and soul. Not thinking about others. I want you so wrapped up in me, you can’t think straight.”

  “I don’t think I’ll have any problems with that, Damon. When I’m around you, when you’re touching me, I can barely focus on my surroundings for safety’s sake.”

  “Well, that is both a good and bad thing right now.” He tickles my side. “I’m pleased to know that I have the same effect on you that you have on me.”

  “What a pair we make. So focused on each other, we wouldn’t even notice if a vampire snuck up on us and chopped us to bits.” I slap at his thigh. “Our hour is almost up.” I scoot forward, standing up and stretching.

  “When we get back, I’m going to lay you out on the bed and feast on every dip and curve of that luscious little body of yours, Lyra.”

  I lean forward, resting my palms on the bed, my face inches from his. I bite his lower lip, teasing him.

  “You’d better.”

  Two Uber’s, a long walk in the wrong direction, and another hour later, we finally arrive at World’s End Pub. Clearly it was aptly named. Because finding it is like finding hidden treasure. You need a detailed map, a compass, some local directions, and sheer luck.

  Punk rock pumps through the speakers, the bass beating hard enough to rattle your teeth the minute you step through the doors. Stickers with anarchy symbols, fuck this government or that one, fight for your freedom and a slew of other propaganda cover every surface of the pub that isn’t the actual bar top.

  We push through the crowd until we’re belly up to the counter, waiting on the busy bartender to notice us.

  “You really think we’re going to find this guy here?” Moira shouts in my ear.

  “If anything, maybe someone here knows where he is.” I shrug. Not much else we can do other than try. The other option is to go on a wild goose chase and knock on every door across the world, looking for the witch who’d given the ring to Morana.

  “Oy, what can I get ya?” The bartender shouts across the wooden surface. I turn, giving him my full attention and tense.

  He’s got short light brown hair, kinda spiked up in the front, but not with any products. Like he runs his hands through it a lot. His eyes are a dark green, like a fir tree. His nose is a little crooked, but it fits perfectly with the rest of his face. He’s lean but muscled. One ear is pierced, and he’s got leather cuffs on each wrist, a black t-shirt with some rock band I’ve never heard of splashed across it and ripped black jeans.

  “What is it?” Damon asks in my ear.

  I shake my head, still staring at the stranger in front of me who feels familiar in a way that I’ve never experienced before.

  “Are you ordering anything, or are you just going to stare at me all night, love?” The man shouts the words over the music and I clench my fists at my sides.

  Focus, Lyra. Now’s not the time for silly distractions.

  “We’re looking for a man named, Seamus. Know him?” I raise a brow.

  “Aye, I know him.”

  “Can you point him out to us?”

  “Depends.” The bartender wipes down a glass in his hand.

  I grit my teeth. Everyone just has to give me a tough time lately. “Depends on what, exactly?”

  “Who’s askin’ for him?” What is this, an old mob movie?

  “Lyra Roux. Leander sent me.”

  Chapter 12

  The bartender goes still, the white dish rag still half in the glass beer mug. He gives us another appraisal, this time really looking at us and then he yells over his shoulder, “I’m on br
eak, be back later!” Before turning to us, “Follow me.”

  He jumps over the bar, landing just behind Damon, tapping him on the shoulder. Damon shrugs him off, his lip curled up over his teeth. Whoops. Best not to come up behind a wolf if he doesn’t know you. Throats have been teared out for less.

  We trail behind him, single file, up a staircase in the back of the pub, to a door with more locks than your average prison on it. He moves them quicker than I expected, and within three minutes were standing in the middle of a living room, the four of us on one side, the bartender on the other, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Leander sent you?”

  I mimic his pose. “Yes, he did. Do you know who or where Seamus is?”

  He laughs. “You’re speaking with him, love.”

  Of course I am.

  “Explains the whole, lead us up a dark staircase thing, I guess.” Moira whispers to Maeve.

  “Can never be too careful. For all I know, you were sent to kill me.”

  “Piss a lot of people off, do you?” Damon snips.

  “When you’re as old as I am, wolf, you can’t help but make a few enemies. Unfortunately most of them are the immortal sort.”

  “Moving on. Leander said if anyone knows the location of the witch that gave Morana the ring to strengthen her power, you would. Is that true?”

  Seamus drops his arms, blowing out a breath. “And what exactly do you want with her?”

  “We want to speak with her so we can break the spell binding the ring to Morana so we can weaken the bitch and take her out.” My words are rushed and my tone impatient, but honestly, I’ve been traveling all day, and I just want someone to give me a straight fucking answer.

  “Oh, is that all.” He smiles. “Then yes, I know her location. But I won’t just give it to you.”