Turn: The Kresova Vampire Harems: Aurora

by Graceley Knox

  Turn

  The Kresova Vampire Harems: Aura Book Three

  Graceley Knox

  D.D. Miers

  Contents

  Untitled

  The Kresova

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Dear Reader,

  Also By Graceley Knox & D.D. Miers

  About the Author

  The history of liberty is a history of resistance.

  Woodrow Wilson

  The Kresova

  Blood.

  The source of life—and the emblem of death.

  For humans and vampires alike, blood determines the difference between survival or doom. For the ancient race of Kresova vampires, blood spilled in a centuries-old feud has forever changed the course of their future.

  Many may know their name, and books may tell their stories, but little truth is actually known about those who stalk the night—especially by the vampires themselves—and the vicious Kresova queen plans to keep it that way.

  She kills without prejudice. Eliminates anyone whose existence threatens her rule. Through fear and violence, and her unmatched ability to anticipate her enemies, she’s secured her reign. She’s thought of everything.

  Done everything.

  But her plan is flawed.

  She didn’t prepare for her. . . much less, for them.

  Chapter 1

  I’ve always wanted a good long visit to New York, though unfortunately, this time wasn’t it.

  But the Big Apple was my teenage fantasy. The culture, the art, the fashion, the clothes! It was the stuff of wet dreams and impossible longing because I never had the money to buy a pair of designer panties, let alone a full wardrobe.

  Not until I fell in with a bunch of richer than hell vampires who turned centuries of investments into incalculable wealth. My lover Lucian pressed a credit card in my hand and whispered into my ear to purchase ‘what I needed’. Despite my independent nature, I melted from his words. “You are my queen, and whatever's mine is yours.” How can a woman refuse? Especially when he spoke his sweet nothings in his deeply seductive tone promising a myriad of pleasures to come.

  True, sleeping with Lucian tangled with bittersweet thoughts of the first of my harem, Carver, kidnapped by the vampire bitch queen Morana. Each day being apart from Carver, his touch, his smile, his lovemaking, hammered another stake into my unbeating heart.

  I would be totally fine by Lucian if he thought a spending spree would make me happy. He’s so old-school and clings secretly to ancient stereotypes of women which he doesn’t voice. Lucian knows if he breathes one word of it to me, I’ll explain to him where and how he can stuff his moldy notions in the place where the sun don't shine.

  I get this shopping trip was his attempt to ease my complaints about how he and Row always watched me as if I'm unable to defend myself. They’ve been training me even harder than Carver did. I've got the street-fighting-vampire-ninja thing on lockdown.

  Navigating New York streets clutching my loot, I scan for Row circling with the town car, but nothing looks familiar. I turn to speak to my partner in crime, Reina, and find she’s gone. What the shit?

  “Reina?” I call her name several times, circling once, then twice, hoping she’ll pop up just as quickly as she disappeared.

  I swallow hard, an old habit, no longer necessary now that I am a vampire. But affectations die hard, especially since I’m new and haven’t forgotten human ways yet. I probably will in another few hundred years. Maybe.

  If I live that long...

  Night is falling, and the street lamps switch on bathing the roads with their ethereal glow. With a sweep of my eyes, I realize I am in a darker part of the city than I intended.

  Where the hell is Reina?

  Where the hell am I?

  I fear for my best friend because she is both human and a target for my enemies. And I worry for me, too, because even though I have the tools to do some real damage, that doesn’t mean I know how to use them. I’m a massive red bulls-eye announcing "Morana wants me dead." Without my protectors, I’m basically easy pickings.

  My vampiric hearing picks up a heel scuff on the strangely deserted street, and I stiffen. It looks as if I’m alone, but every straining sense tells me I am not and it's on me to defend myself. Why couldn’t my Kresova transformation have come with a book on ‘mastering you new vampire hood for dummies’.

  Lucian and Row have both worked on getting me into fighting shape after we hightailed it from Morana’s hellish party. The one where my world blew apart. Hell, what does a former graphic designer know about hand-to-hand combat? Or the use of blades? Or even firearms? But since destiny has selected me as a Dria, one of three prophesied vampire queens destined to take out Morana, I needed to know all of that—and more. Their training is relentless, and only today did they give me a break.

  Someone forgot to tell Fate that. Fickle bitch.

  A crash echoes behind me and I barely have a second to blink as my attacker falls from the roof and we tumble and roll on the concrete. I have no breath to lose, but I grunt anyway. I’m not hurt, but I’m more than a little annoyed.

  A hood masks his face, but I catch a scent I recognize, and it fuels my anger.

  I push him off. He's got at least fifty pounds of muscle on me and in my former human body tossing him would have been impossible. If my strength surprises him, he doesn’t let on. But I catch him off guard because I’ve been growing stronger at a rate no one expected. Fueled by fury and the espresso Reina and I drank courtesy of the last boutique we visited, I jam my knee right into his family jewels.

  A normal man would have howled, but he hissee and jumps back with supernatural grace. The jerk now knows I've scoped him as a vampire. He may try to give me the thrashing of my life, but I’ll return it—times ten.

  Cocky prick. The strength buried deep inside me comes from the rage Morana created when the bitch took and imprisoned my beloved Carver.

  The undead monster tortures him physically each day. At least that’s what our sources inside her court tell us. And the knowledge nearly brings me to my knees every morning I wake up and he’s not with me. This combined with however she’s screwing with his head pisses me off so much I need an outlet—this’ll do.

  With a come-hither look and a saucy wink, because I’m not above teasing my opponent, I beckon him with my fingers to attack.

  Within a microsecond, he runs towards me, lifting his leg to kick me square in the chest. But I catch his ankle, and with a twist, send him flying into the glass of a display window. It doesn’t shatter.

  I giggle. “Sorry not sorry.”

  The pane makes a strange rumbling noise at the contact as it shimmies in its frame. My opponent bounces off it like a basketball and stumbles before he rights himself.

  “Had enough?” I call from a few feet away.

  My attacker tears off his hood and Lucian stands in front of me. If my heart could still do so, the sight of him would make it stutter. He stares at me, his mouth in a thin line. His dark hair and chiseled jaw stand in sharp contrast to the soft lighting of the street. It’s strange to think of my investment banker lover, the second of my fated harem, as some sort of ninj
a, but all these vampires are. You have to be when your entire race is a bunch of blood thirsty heathens.

  He gives me one of his rare smiles and I smile back dopily at him for a moment. Of my two men, Lucian is the most troubled by the violent currents that swirl around us. He finds danger in everything, and as he purses his lips, I know I’m seconds away from another lecture about my safety.

  “You should have been more aware of your surroundings. You got distracted, and you cannot afford that.”

  My first instinct is to retort with sarcasm, which he deserves for this stunt. But he’s trying to teach me, to show me I shouldn’t take my safety in public places for granted. Sigh. I hate it when he’s right.

  “Sorry, I wasn't careful. Is Reina okay?”

  “Yes. She’s in the car with Row.”

  I roll my eyes. Row and Reina are so drawn to each other they’re practically stuck together magnetically. I was lucky to get this two-hour shopping trip with her.

  Lucian whistles a keen note that hurts my delicate vampire ears and then gathers my scattered bags from the street, just as a black Lincoln rolls up. I slide into the back after Lucian opens the door and find Reina sitting in the front with Row driving.

  I smack her shoulder.

  “Ow!” she whines.

  “Bitch, don’t ever desert me.”

  She giggles. “Row came up from behind, put his hand over my mouth and dragged me away. With him a big, bad vampire, there's no way to resist him.” She sticks her tongue out over her shoulder at me.

  “Not that you do, slut.” I chuckle.

  “I’m not the one with a harem,” she sneers.

  “Don’t hate, bitch.” We both laugh, smiling at each other and Lucian scoffs. He’s big on manners and formality, and rarely understands our friendly insults.

  “Row,” says Lucian, “did you hear from any of your contacts?”

  “For Christ’s sake, Lucian. I told you when I did, I’d inform Aura and you.”

  “Now, boys, don’t start.” It looks like I have to break up another scuffle between my protectors. We may be joined in purpose, but not personalities and they rub the wrong way all too inconveniently. “Fussing at each other won’t get Carver back any sooner.”

  “It’s been two months,” complains Row echoing my own heartfelt lament. He was closer to Carver than Lucian, and it was obvious he missed him. He also harbors a strange anger toward Lucian as if my second lover should have stopped the insane bombing attack at Morana’s fête. Or as if he could have found Carver in the aftermath, when even I, with our bond, could not.

  “Tell me from it,” said Lucian.

  “About it, tell me about it,” I say emphasizing the word. It always gets me how these elder vamps screw up colloquialisms. “Row, I’d appreciate it if you leaned harder on your contacts. We need the info on where Morana hid Carver.”

  “Absolutely,” Lucian agrees. “We need Carver to take Morana down.”

  “Don’t you think I get that?” Row growls from behind the wheel.

  “Sure, you do,” I say trying to smooth this mess. “And it isn’t the only reason we need to find him.” I shoot a hard glance to Lucian, who looks away unfazed. “It’s because she’s hurting him, body and mind. And believe me, when we find him and get to the bitch, I’ll tear her head off myself and make her pay for the pain she caused him.”

  “Lovely plan,” Lucian drawls. “Now, to work on your fighting skills so you can pull it off.”

  We land at one of Lucian’s apartments in the city, but only for the night. We are on the run, and the more we move, the harder it is for Morana to find us. Lucian wanted to check up on his business though he assures me he has good lieutenants to manage the day-to-day. But what I think he left our cozy clique for, was to see if Morana has made inquiries on the investments she has with him. A phone call or an email could yield some actionable information in tracing her, but when Lucian returns, the hard set of his jaw tells me has nothing new for us.

  I want to soothe his distress. As much as I want Lucian, I still burn for Carver while he’s away from me, and I can’t shake my guilt that I failed him by leaving him behind. It’s not an easy thing to love two men equally in one way and to love each of them so differently in other ways. I can’t imagine our transition with adding a third will be any easier for us either.

  Lucian sits at the table and looks through the boxes of leftover Chinese takeout, but he pushes the cartons away. He’s old enough as a vampire not to desire food. There is only one nourishment he needs. Well, two, but I can’t be on the menu every night.

  “Has the delivery arrived?” he says in nearly a growl.

  “Relax. It’s on the way,” Row chimes in between chomps of coconut shrimp.

  “Baby, let’s go in the bedroom. You can snack there.”

  “No, you need to save your strength.” He brushes me off and I raise a brow at Reina.

  “Dude, you seriously need to chill out.” Reina jumps into the convo.

  “Says the hot-blooded human who can’t keep her hands off Aura’s protector.”

  “Hey!” protests Row.

  “Oy!” Reina yells, standing and squaring off with Lucian.

  “Everyone!” I clap my hands to get their attention. “Seriously, settle. We all have to live with each other, so retract your fangs, except you, Reina. Retract your kitten claws.”

  “Meow,” She snarks, a wicked grin curling her lips.

  The doorbell rings, and Row stands drawing his weapon from his holster.

  “I got it.” I say but Lucian rushes passed me. “Great! I can’t even answer a door now!” I yell out after him. I almost scramble to catch it before him, but that would only start another argument and despite being testy myself, I’m trying to keep the peace. “It’s probably the blood delivery.”

  “We can’t know,” says Lucian as he steps forward. Row follows and keeps hidden behind the wall closest to the alcove that houses the front door. He keeps his gun poised to take a shot just in case. It’s all very Law and Order-ish and causes shivers to run down my spine. We’re in so much danger all the time. No wonder frayed nerves keep bumping into each other.

  Lucian opens the door. “Yes?”

  “I have a message from Mama Lisette,” rumbles a deep, but feminine voice.

  “Let’s have it.”

  “It’s not a spoken message, and it’s only for the Dria.”

  “Let her in,” I nod at Lucian as he looks over his shoulder at me.

  Row holsters his gun, and Lucian steps away from the door, but the stony expression on his face reveals how he feels about it. A large woman waddles in, and she walks straight at me as if she knows who I am. She stares hard at me, and then makes a small noise, shrugs, and hands me a FedEx envelope.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  “People call me Lil’ Pattie. I’m a voodoo priestess, like Mama Lisette. I know her from New Orleans, but I came to this great city because the spirit told me this town needed a me.”

  “And this?” I hold up the envelope. “What is it?”

  “Do’ na ask me. Mama Lisette asked me to deliver it to you, here, today. And I’m glad to be rid of it.”

  “How is she?”

  “Oh, child, she took ill since you saw her last. Her youngan tells me she prays to Mama Brigit for healing but it dona come.”

  I hang my head. The vision she shared with me about Carver was powerful, so much so she fainted at the end of it. If anything of the creeping evil called Morana crosses in Mama Lisette’s mortal body or soul, I’ll feel terrible. I demanded the vision. She didn’t want to give it to me, but I was stubborn and she did it.

  If Mama Lisette wants me to have this message, then it can’t be bad. I tear open the envelope and pull out a note marked with my name along with a smaller envelope.

  Dria,

  What is in the envelope is something only a Dria like you can read. Ancient Fae magic created it, coming to me by friends in Ireland. My friends saw I would me
et a Dria and sent it to me. Now I send it to you. I pray it carries the secret of the destruction of the Great Evil.

  Good fortune,

  Mama Lisette

  I open the smaller envelope, and a card flutters out, falling to the floor. We all stare at the picture of the Tarot card. A skeleton riding a pale horse—the thirteenth key. Death.

  Lil’ Pattie makes the sign of the cross several times and mutters, but Reina steps forward, picking it up and huffs.

  “It doesn’t mean what you think it does,” she chuckles. “The 13th Tarot card is about transformation, not literal death. It may feel like the end when everything gets stripped away, but, it's things you don’t need.”

  She shoves the piece of painted cardboard at me. “Take it. It won’t bite.”

  “And when did you get so knowledgeable on arcane shit?”

  “Bitch, I had my moments of teenage curiosity. Don’t question me. I am all knowing.” She cracks a smile and winks at Lil’ Pattie.

  Lil’ Pattie mutters more and shakes her head.

  “Maybe you should escort her out. Pattie, we appreciate all you’ve done, but this is in our hands now.”

  “Don’t touch it,” says Pattie. “There is something there, something bad.”

  I look at Lucian whose face is perplexed, and to Row, whose expression reveals nothing. I level my gaze to Reina and take the card from her hand.

  With a flash of light blanking my vision, I'm shuttled to a cave lit by candles.

  Morana is there and I step back, but she doesn’t see me. She intent on the woman bent in supplication. Both Morana and the woman wear long costume-like dresses, though this hardly means anything to the bitch Queen. She wore whatever period dress she wanted. And the vampire next to her is someone I don’t recognize. But when Morana lifts her chin, he yanks the captive woman’s head up by her red, curly hair. Now I see the woman’s defiance and her unnaturally green eyes.