Fury : The Kresova Vampire Harems: Lyra

by Graceley Knox

  "How am I supposed to get used to knowing that people are dying, and I could have done something to stop it?" I ask.

  "I don't know," he replies with a low chuckle. "I'm not a king. But you are a queen. You'll figure it out."

  "Sounds like bullshit," I say.

  "Yeah, probably," he agrees, and slowly moves off of me, but not completely. His hands stay on my hips, his legs tight around mine. One of his hands, still clawed, slides slowly up my back.

  "What are you thinking about?" I ask, as I raise myself up onto my arms slowly.

  "How you smelled when you had your legs wrapped around my head earlier," he says, a soft growl in his voice. He squeezes my hip and pulls me back against him and my breath catches as he rocks against me. I bite my lip, anger rapidly shifting to something entirely more pleasant but just as heated.

  "Really? In the middle of the sparring ring?" I tease him, grinding back into him, which makes him groan in a way that sends shivers down my spine.

  "Callahan and Brenna already went home," he says, hands sliding up the back of my shirt, dragging nails lightly across my skin. "Everyone else is in bed. We've got the place to ourselves."

  "Maybe I wasn't done sparring yet," I say playfully and roll onto my back, swinging a fist at his face. He catches it easily, pinning my hand next to my head. I twist, pulling my legs in for a kick, which only allows him to get between my thighs, grabbing me by the hips. He drags them up to shoulder height and I yelp as I'm thrown off balance, holding myself on my arms. Holding my thighs, he buries his face between them and I gasp his name, feeling his tongue through my thin workout shorts. He drags them off with an impatient gesture, leaving them dangling from my ankle, as he dives in.

  He's not a man of great restraint and I couldn't be happier as he goes to town on me, fast and sloppy and intense, his tongue rolling against my clit and dipping into my entrance with every swipe. I would happily let him keep at it all night, rocking my hips up into his mouth, stifling shouts as he sucks on me, but I can't hold this position for long. When I start to shake with the effort of holding myself up, he lets me down and reaches to free himself from his pants. He's as big as ever and eating me out had him hard as hell. The sight is enough to have me licking my lips.

  Before he can try to position me himself, I sit up and quickly reverse us, pinning him down on his back. There are no complaints. He grins and reaches up to push my sports bra out of the way so that he can admire the view of my tits as I line myself up over him. I take a minute to slide him against my lips, loving the heat of him and the way he moans and curses under his breath. Finally I sink onto him, one long slow slide, whispering curses of my own as he fills me up with all I can take and then some. I've been around a while, but his is without doubt the best dick I've experienced.

  I start slow, barely lifting my hips as I rock against him, grinding him inside me, but his hands on my hips urge me to move faster. Neither of us is really in the mood for slow, but I want to torture him a little. Still, I can't make myself hold back for long. Soon I'm riding him as fast as I can, my thighs burning as I try to find the balance between pulling out as far as I'm able and slamming back down as fast as possible, pleasure tightening like a coil inside me.

  Damon, losing patience, sits up and grabs me by the hips. I hold onto his shoulders as he tips me backward, just enough that he can get good leverage on my, using my hips to drag me back into his short, powerful thrusts. He hammers into me, leaving me seeing stars. I bite my lip and moan his name as I feel myself getting close and he brings a hand to my clit, rubbing in quick hard circles to help push me over the top.

  He swears loudly as he feels me cum, tightening hard around him, every muscle in my body tensing as electric pleasure rolls through me. He fucks me through it, a delicious overstimulated pleasure that leaves my head spinning, and a moment later I feel the hot rush of him finishing within me.

  He pulls me close to his chest as we recover, still inside me, and we lay that way for a long few minutes.

  "Well that's one way to burn nervous energy," I mutter into his shoulder. He laughs quietly, squeezing me.

  "Want to go inside and burn some more?" he growls into my ear, and I grin.

  "Prove you can pin me again first."

  Chapter 2

  I should have slept like a rock after the workout Damon put me through last night, but I spent the night tossing and turning, shaking a persistent nightmare of waking up to find Morana had butchered everyone in the castle while I was asleep.

  I'm a shambling zombie when Callahan arrives and calls us together into the war room. Damon, on the other hand, seems refreshed and satisfied. Seamus gives me a knowing smirk and I resist the urge to kick him. Instead I wave blearily at Aura and Reina as they take a place at the other end of the table.

  "So," I say through a yawn, "Morana's no longer unkillable. We know where she's based. We have a rough idea of her numbers. Let's—oh, thank you."

  I cut myself off as Seamus hands me a large mug of plasma-spiked coffee and I drain half of it. I instantly feel more alert.

  "As I was saying," I continue, "let's fucking slay this bitch."

  "My scouts have given us a basic layout of her enclave in Paris," Callahan reports, rolling out a map, mostly just outlines, onto the heavy wooden table. "It's not as detailed as I would like it to be, but I'm not certain we can risk sending anyone in for a closer look."

  "This seems like more than enough to go off of to me," I say, studying the map. "We've got the main structure and it resembles most of the outbuildings, all the entrances and exits. Should be enough to be getting on with."

  "Our main concerns are here and here," Callahan replies, pointing at a very loose diagram of the second floor and a basement entrance. "We know practically nothing about the second floor past this point, and nothing at all about the basement. There may be passages under the house, secret exits or servant's tunnels, that could prove very dangerous to any attempt at an extended assault."

  "The basement is a problem," I agree. "But you can forget learning anything about the second floor. Those are Morana's private quarters. Only her closest consorts are ever allowed in there."

  "In that case," Aura speaks up, "Carver may be able to give us some details."

  "Oh, right," I say, hiding a grin. "I forgot he was her chew toy for a while. Yeah, he might able to give us directions to her bedroom."

  Aura frowns at me and I realize I have gone too far. I clear my throat, embarrassed, and take another sip of my coffee.

  "So how are we tackling this beast?" Damon asks, leaning over the map. "There are too many entrances. Too many external buildings where her forces could dig in and harry us from both sides."

  Callahan nods in agreement.

  "I don't think we have the numbers for an open assault," he says. "But the alternative is too risky."

  "A surgical strike could work," I push. "Especially if we can find a way in through the basement. We avoid her main forces and take her out while she's not expecting it."

  "Morana's always expecting it," Aura counters. "And how will we even know where she'll be in the house? If she'll be in the house? Do we just wander around blindly until we find her? And when we do find her, she's crazy powerful. That's not going to be a quiet fight. Her forces will notice and we'll end up trapped between her and them."

  "We need to keep her forces busy and away from her," Callahan agrees. "So that a smaller team can focus on taking her down without risk of being bum-rushed by an army. Which means open assault."

  Damon sighs, leaning back from the table, but I lean closer, squinting at the map.

  "So that just means we need more allies, right?" Reina speaks up. "You need more people to make it work, so you've got to get more allies."

  "Easier said than done, lass," Callahan says, nodding to her. "Just wrangling the werewolf packs to follow a vampire has been effort enough."

  "What are our other options?" I ask, crossing an arm over my chest, the other holdin
g my coffee. "There's got to be more people around that want to see Morana eat it. She is not a woman who makes friends."

  "Exactly," Aura agrees with a nod. "She rules by fear. Which means that if we can prove we're strong enough to take her on, there's a lot of people who will back us."

  "We could talk to the other ancient Kresova clans," I suggest, frowning into my coffee mug. "The old families that originally came together to form the Kresova. They've still got castles and significant numbers in Scotland, London, and Wales. They've supported her for a long time, but none of them has ever liked bowing down to Paris. It might be worth sending a discreet message or two."

  "I've got the Dakvahar behind me as well," Aura offers. "They don't have much in the way of numbers, but they hate Morana like nobody's business."

  "It's somewhere to start," Callahan says. "We'll send messages out immediately. Once we have an idea of the numbers each of them can provide, we can start talking strategy."

  "Well let's get them on the horn now," I say, not liking his dismissive tone. "They can meet us there, and we can be in her living room by tomorrow morning."

  "No one is going to agree that fast," Callahan says, shaking his head. "I don't know much about the ancient Kresova, but I know the Scottish. It'll take some time. And if we rush, Morana will hear of it and know we're coming. More importantly, even if we had all our allies gathered already, we still need time to acquire arms and armor and supplies. Even if we move as quickly as we can, it may take a week to manage by itself."

  "We can't wait that long," I argue, putting my coffee aside. "She's going to know we destroyed the ring! She'll be looking to re-secure her power. The longer we wait, the better the chance that she finds some new way to protect herself that we don't even know about yet."

  "Well, then, perhaps you shouldn't have rushed to destroy the ring," Callahan says. "If you'd waited until we were ready to strike, it could have been immediate."

  "And in the meantime she would still be killing people!" I snap. "We need to go after her now! Before she hurts anyone else!"

  "If you run into this unprepared you'll lose twice as many lives to gain nothing!" Callahan shouts back, growing angry. "And it will be my people that pay the price! I love you like a daughter, Lyra, but if you want the support of the wolves in this, we will not move unprepared!"

  I fall silent, my jaw clenched tight, knowing he's right and unable to accept it. The rest of the table is quiet as well, and I can't tell which of them side with me and my desperation to see this done, and which, like Callahan, urge endless bureaucratic caution. I dare not ask and be disappointed.

  "You may have just a few other allies." Seamus speaks up from behind everyone else, leaning and smiling against the hearth.

  "I've been doing a little digging of my own. I mentioned to Lyra last night that there were Fae on her side. But late in the evening, I received word from a high member of the court, working just beneath the Summer Queen herself. Morana has been making herself enemies among the most powerful Fae there are."

  "She really is mad," Callahan says, stunned. "What fool would offend the Summer Queen?"

  "She may have thought it wouldn't be noticed," Seamus continues, expression more serious. "She's been taking changelings, Fae living among humans. They may go years without contact with the court, so we were slow to notice a pattern. And slower to be certain it was her. But now the queens are furious. They want bloody vengeance. They'll support our cause. They even sent this, as a token of their favor."

  He pulls something from inside his shirt, stepping closer to lay it on the table. It's a necklace, a heavy oval hanging on a long, delicate, silver chain. The metal of the amulet is dull, like lead or pewter, but intricately shaped. The longer I study it, the less certain I become of what the carving is. At first glance I see snowflakes, at another bare branches twined, at another holly leaves and curved antlers. Most curiously, the whole thing appears slightly insubstantial, as though made of mist that will disappear at a touch.

  "What is it?" I ask.

  "Mab's pendant," Seamus explains. "A bit of mythic treasure from the queen's own collection."

  "Is it magic?" Aura asks.

  "Indeed," Seamus confirms. "Legend has it the Summer King, Oberon, commissioned a gift for his bride, Queen Titania, from the dark elves, whose forges are known to produce wonders seen nowhere else. But the elves do not serve the courts. Their loyalty is to the Wild Hunt and the Erlking. Fearing reprisals if they showed favor to one court over the other, they crafted a gift of equal beauty and power for Winter Queen Mab. They presented Titania's crown to the Summer Court, and Mab's pendant to the Winter Court on the same day."

  "How did Oberon take that?" Damon asks, amused.

  "Oh not well at all," Seamus says with a laugh. "He threw quite the tantrum and cast Titania's crown into a well, where it was lost and hasn't been seen for centuries. But Mab's pendant has remained. They say it can steal power from enemies and grant it to whoever wears it."

  "So I could use this to steal some of Morana's power?" I summarize.

  "Well, theoretically," Seamus confirms. "It should only take a drop or two of her blood. But in practice—"

  He cuts himself off as I reach out for the pendant and pick it up. It grows more solid at my touch, losing some of its misty translucence. I hold it up to examine it more thoroughly, when I realize Seamus is staring at me with his mouth slightly open.

  "What?" I ask, suddenly certain I've fucked up. "Is it cursed? Did I just curse myself?"

  Damon gets out of the way, his own expression fraught with concern, as Seamus strides toward me, snatching the necklace out of my hand. He squints at it suspiciously, then at my hand, turning it over as though searching for some sort of trick.

  "What's wrong?" Damon asks. "Is she in danger?"

  "Hold out your hand," Seamus demands instead. Frowning, Damon obeys, and Seamus holds the necklace over Damon's open palm and drops it.

  It falls directly through the werewolf's hand and bounces on the floor with a musical clatter.

  "What the fuck?" Damon sputters, yanking his hand away, expecting to find a hole in the middle of it.

  Seamus stares at the necklace on the floor, and then at me, perplexed. I can only shrug back at him, at a loss.

  "Miss Aurora!" Seamus calls.

  "Yeah?"

  "Would you do me a favor and try to pick this up?"

  Aura, confused, circles around the table and bends to pick up the fallen necklace. She frowns as her fingers seem to . . . miss. She grabs slightly to the left of it, and then an inch above it. She puts her hand on the floor and tries to slide it directly into the necklace. It somehow still ends up off the left.

  "Lyra," Seamus says at last. "Would you try to pick it up now, please?"

  I raise an eyebrow, but do as he says. I half expect it to evade me the same way it did Aura, but my fingers close around the pendant easily. I stand up again with it in my hand.

  "Well," I say, holding it a bit nervously, like it might bite me. "What does this mean?"

  "Mab's pendant can't be touched by mortal hands," Seamus explains, staring at me with a dawning awe. "No one not born of Faery can hold it."

  "But I'm holding it," I point out.

  "Well then I should think what that means is obvious," Seamus laughs. "You, Lyra, are part Fae."

  Chapter 3

  "No, I'm not," I say reflexively.

  "The fact that you're holding the bauble right now says otherwise," Seamus says, and I drop it on the table abruptly.

  "I'm not," I say again. "I'm a vampire. Christ, I'm the daughter of one of the most famous vampires to ever live! I can't be both."

  "I've certainly never heard of it before," Seamus says with a shrug. "But you would appear to be living proof that it's possible. It would actually explain a great deal."

  "Bullshit it would!" I yell. "It doesn't make sense! Do you see any fucking pixie wings on my back? I know who my dad was, and he wasn't the fucking Keebler elf!
"

  "Those incredibly disrespectful comments about my people aside . . ." Seamus says, clearing his throat. "What do you know about your mother?"

  I start to reply, realize I don't have a good answer, and close my mouth as I reconsider, uncertainty washing over me.

  "Nothing, really," I finally admit. "I was told . . . son of a bitch."

  "Son of a bitch what?" Aura asks, curious, as I put a hand over my face, annoyed at myself and my mother and Seamus all at once.

  "I was told she just appeared one day," I say, irritation evident. "Just walked out of the trees, with flowers in her hair, and my father fell in love with her at first sight. She spent a year with him, then disappeared again shortly after I was born."

  "Ha!" Seamus laughs, pointing at me. "That's textbook! How did you never guess?"

  "I thought it was romantic!" I shout, frustrated. "I figured it was probably a cover for her dying in childbirth or him knocking up some rando at a bar or something! How the hell was I supposed to guess she was Fae?"

  While Seamus laughs at me, I lean over the table, scrubbing at my face.

  "So what does this mean?" Damon asks, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Does it change anything?"

  "If the Fae weren't already inclined to help you, they will be now," Seamus says. "They won't be able to resist the opportunity of having a half Fae in power here."

  "Won't it prevent you from being fully blooded?" Aura suggests, frowning.

  "Why would it do that?" Callahan asks.

  I'm still attempting to compose myself and resist the urge to strangle Seamus.

  "Fae blood is dangerous to vampires," I answer, taking a deep breath. "It can boost our power significantly when taken in very small doses. But take too much at once and its poison. It also makes you vulnerable to sunlight and cold iron. Take it long enough, and it drives you batshit. If I ever want to be blooded, whoever drinks from me will have to risk whatever degree of Fae blood I have fucking them up."