Fury : The Kresova Vampire Harems: Lyra

  Fury

  The Kresova Vampire Harems: Lyra Book Two

  Graceley Knox

  D.D. Miers

  Chaotic Press, LLC

  Fury Copyright © 2018 by Graceley Knox & D.D. Miers

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Edited by: Lorraine Fico-White - Magnifico Manuscripts

  Cover Design by: Rebecca Frank

  Praise for Graceley Knox & D.D. Miers

  “The dawn of a new age of vampire.” - Crafting Geeky Bibliophile

  "Thirst is the first in a new series from the writing team of Graceley Knox and D. D. Miers. Whatever they are doing, they are doing it right because Thirst had me riveted." - Tome Tender Book Blog

  "The premise for Thirst is so unique... And these aren't just vampires, they are Kresova." - IB Book Blogging

  "A CRAZY, WILD, INSANE RIDE THAT KEPT ME ON THE LEDGE" - Marie's Tempting Reads

  “If you haven’t read any books by Graceley Knox or D. D. Miers well get busy because you are missing out on two very gifted story weavers!" - Goodreads Reviewer

  Contents

  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 1

  Dear Reader,

  Also By Graceley Knox & D.D. Miers

  About the Authors

  "And they call us 'hard women,' as if survival could ever be delicate."

  - Clementine von Radics

  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 . . . for them.

  Chapter 1

  I stare into the molten flames, satisfaction thrumming through each and every fiber of my being.

  Morana is weakened.

  We did it.

  Finally, we have the upper hand over that evil, scheming, bitch.

  Car doors slam and the cry of a grieving woman tickle my ears and I turn to Damon. “Are you expecting anyone? A crying someone?”

  He cocks his head and then frowns. “It’s Callahan and Brenna. They’ve got a pack member with them. I just can’t make out who.” He holds his hand out to me and I take it, reaching with my other hand for Seamus.

  “Come on, let’s go see what’s going on now.”

  “Ah, love, I don’t do so well with crying women. You might say it’s my one weakness.” Seamus grimaces as I pull him along behind us.

  “Nice try. But I’ll keep that in mind.” I wink at him.

  “Callahan, Brenna, what is going on?” Damon’s gravelly voice rings out.

  “Come, Cara, let’s get you inside.” Brenna meets my eyes with her own watery ones. “Perhaps some tea, Lyra?”

  I drop both of my mates' hands and rush forward to help Brenna soothe the distraught woman. “Of course. This way.”

  We get everyone inside the kitchen, settled. Before I can get upset that I don’t have fresh cookies waiting like Brenna would because I’m not the nurturing type, Aurora and Reina swoop in, bringing drinks for everyone who doesn’t want tea and setting out some light snacks.

  I blow out a breath, leaning against the counter, shaken by the woman in front of me as she struggles to pull in air between her sobs.

  Seamus leans next to me, his body warming my own. “You all right, love?”

  “I don’t really know what to do in this situation. I know she’ll calm down in a minute . . . I think. But I’m a ‘throw a punch at my obstacles first, ask questions later’ type problem solver. Not a soother.”

  “Well, you seemed to do a good job getting her in here.” Seamus kisses the side of my head. “I’m sure you’ll be able to punch things in a moment, love. Just have some patience.”

  Yeah, so not my strong suit. Not in situations like these. But it’s not like I can clap my hands in front of the poor woman’s face and make her snap out of it.

  Damon clears his throat and I focus on him, standing next to Callahan across from me. “Want to shed some light as to why there’s a hysterical woman in our kitchen?” he asks, his voice low enough that only we can hear it.

  “Her pup was taken.”

  “Her dog?” Seamus asks, his tone befuddled.

  “No, her child,” I explain. “I’m assuming this has something to do with Morana, or you wouldn’t be here, Callahan.” I shake my head. God fucking damnit. Just when we get a step ahead of her, she kicks us in the teeth and we fly backward.

  “We believe so, yes.”

  “This is my fault.” I cross my arms, guilt slithering over me like a thousand slimy snakes, ready to lunge at the first sign of weakness. I glance over to the woman, drying her tears at my kitchen table. If I hadn’t had a hard-on for Morana, her child would be home, sleeping soundly. Instead they’re missing and she’s terrified.

  “Lyra, this isn’t your fault. As much as it isn’t my fault or anyone’s fault. Morana makes her own decisions,” Damon says.

  “Don’t do that. It’s not your fault. You didn’t go against her after being a part of her personal guard.” I tick each item off on my fingers. “Your father isn’t her mortal enemy. You didn’t destroy a ring that granted her vast power.”

  Damon grabs my hands in his, dipping his head so our faces are level. “Stop. This isn’t your fault. Don’t waste time on blaming yourself. Instead, let’s speak with Cara and get as much information as we can so we can help her.”

  He’s right. Of course he’s right. I’m reacting emotionally, which up until a few months ago, wasn’t something I did. But now, it’s personal. I’m so wrapped up in this tangled web of hers, I’m not sure I’ll ever shake off every last thread she’s weaved around me.

  I cross the short distance between myself and the grieving mother, and sit in the chair Seamus pulls out for me, offering him a
smile of thanks.

  “Cara? I know that you’re upset, and reasonably so, but if you can, I need you to tell me everything you can remember.” I watch as she slowly registers my words, drawing her shoulders back, wiping the tears from her wet cheeks, and sniffling. “Can you do that?”

  “Aye, I can do that.” She grips Brenna’s hand in a tight grip on the scarred wooden tabletop.

  “I need to know if the men or women that took your pup said anything.”

  Cara purses her lips as I force her to relive watching her child being taken from her. The feeling of causing her that pain again makes me feel like a thousand spiders are crawling all over me and no matter how many I flick off, they keep coming back.

  “I remember hearing them speak, but I can’t remember what exactly it was that they were saying.” She shakes her head. “I was too busy screaming for help and for my son.”

  I wince. Duh, Lyra. Obviously, she wasn’t asking them to repeat what they’d just said. Priorities.

  "Can you close your eyes for me? Take a deep breath. Focus on just their voices. Just what they were saying. I know it was a chaotic situation, but I need you to try. It could help us find him and bring him back to you."

  Cara smooths a hand down her disheveled hair, collecting herself, and takes a few deep breaths.

  "Take your time. We want to get this right." I keep my voice calm and low, helping to keep her at ease.

  Despite my lack of usual patience, if there is ever a time to learn to calm my tits, it would be now. Cara concentrates, her face screwing up as she struggles to remember. Finally she sobs, face dropping into her hands.

  "I can't!" she cries, shoulders shaking as I back away, giving up. "I'm sorry! All I can hear is him screaming!"

  Brenna and Aura swoop in to comfort her as she dissolves into full hysterics again. Feeling uncomfortable, useless, and guilty I break for the door. Seamus, probably as uncomfortable as I am, follows me out.

  By the time I reach the courtyard, my skittering pulse has calmed a bit, the cool night air settling a little of my anxiety. I lean against a pillar supporting the upper walkway.

  After a minute, Seamus leans against the next pillar, a few feet away. We share the silence for a few moments.

  "Sorry I wasn't much help in there," Seamus says, breaking the silence. "I did warn you. I'm useless around crying women. I just freeze up."

  "Yeah, well, I didn't do much better," I say, frustrated with myself. "We've got to go after Morana, now. Before she hurts anyone else."

  "Like, right now?" Seamus asks.

  "Yeah."

  "Tonight?"

  "Yeah!"

  "Well then," Seamus says with a shrug. "Sounds good to me! But I have a feeling Callahan and his people may want to plan things a bit more thoroughly."

  "We destroyed the ring!" I say impatiently. "We shouldn't waste any time!"

  "Sure, she isn't literally unkillable anymore," Seamus points out. "But she's still one of the most powerful vampires in the world. A little caution isn't unwarranted."

  "Why does it feel like I'm the only one in a hurry to put a knife in this bitch's face?" I ask, frustrated, slamming a fist into the pillar and shaking a layer of fine dust from the architecture above us. Seamus gives the upper walk a wary look and steps out from underneath it. Then he takes me by the shoulders and stares into my eyes.

  "You're not the only one," he says. "And you know it. You've got me and Damon behind you for one. Aura and her little entourage for another. Not to mention Callahan and his people. All of whom are putting their faith in you. If you rush them into a confrontation they aren't prepared for, you're going to cost more lives than you save."

  I nod in understanding, not meeting his eye. I know he's right, but the thought that she might be out there stealing more children makes me feel like every moment I'm not actively going for her throat, I am complicit. It makes me want to tear my hair out.

  He tips my chin up to make me meet his gaze and he smiles.

  "You may actually have more allies than you think," he says. "Don't be considering me ambassador to the Fae or any such thing, but I've heard word from several folks around the courts. Morana may be preying on our kind as well. There's more than a few of us ready to back you against her. And trust me, when it comes to the Fae, you only need a few."

  "That is useful," I admit, wishing it cheered me up more.

  Seamus leans in and kisses me, and that does cheer me up. His lips are warm and sweet, his kisses tender and playful and never shy. I pull him closer, demanding more, which he eagerly provides. But as he presses me back into the pillar I still can't get Cara's sobbing face out of my mind. I break the kiss with a frustrated sigh. Understanding, he presses a last small peck to the corner of my mouth.

  "Get some rest," he suggests. "We'll get everyone together tomorrow to plan an attack.

  "Right," I agree, knowing I'm not going to be able to sleep. I'm too wound up and too pissed-off.

  I head to the training area instead, passing up the empty sparring ring for the wooden dummies near the back, hoping to burn off some energy. I lay into one of the dummies with a vengeance, mixing styles without much concern for technique, just for whatever feels like the best way to slam my fists into something right now.

  Rather than burning off energy, I only get angrier as I go, my frustration growing. These dummies are built to withstand vampire strength, even pissed off werewolves. And before long it's starting to splinter and groan under the onslaught.

  "That thing owe you money?"

  I deliver one last punishing kick to the dummy before I look up at Damon, and my expression says it all. He throws me a towel.

  "Just imagining it with Morana's face," I say, catching the towel and drying my face.

  "Something tells me she's going to put up more of a fight," Damon says and hitches a thumb toward the sparring ring. "How about you take on someone your own size?"

  "My own size?" I say, following him to the ring. "Am I only fighting half of you?"

  He rolls his eyes.

  "I'm closer to your size than that defenseless dummy you were working over," he says, climbing into the ring and taking his place across from me. "Now tell me what's on your mind."

  I come at him with a flying kick to the head. His eyes widen, but his reflexes are good. He catches the foot coming at him and I swing the other leg around his neck, clock him across the jaw, drop backward to throw all my weight onto his head and then twist, flinging him to the ground in the space of about a second. I glare down at him as he lies panting in the dirt.

  "So I'm guessing you're a little upset," he wheezes.

  I help him to his feet and we return to starting positions.

  "I'm more than upset," I tell him. "I'm pissed. This was supposed to be a big moment of victory. We destroyed the ring! She's vulnerable! But she still found a way to ruin it."

  I come at him again, but he's ready this time, although I've still got him on the defensive for sheer ferocity. He ducks a kick that could have taken his head off and delivers a sharp jab to my side to make me back off a little. I don't.

  "You realize she probably took the kid before you destroyed the ring, right?" he pointed out.

  "That just makes it worse!" I snarl, loosing a flurry of blows at his midsection to which he frantically backpedals, struggling to block, until I kick his legs out from under him and tip him over the fence around the practice ring. He lands hard in the grass. I grip the fence and the wood creaks as I wait for him to get back up. "It's just another reminder that I'm not moving fast enough! I'm not doing enough! She's hurting people and I'm letting her do it!"

  "You realize that's completely unreasonable, right?" he says as he sits up. He dusts himself off and returns to the ring while I pace.

  "This is my fault," I snap, not even paying attention to him at this point. "I'm the one that riled her up, and I'm the only reason she's hurting these people. Protecting them is my responsibility! And every minute we delay going after
her, every life she takes while I'm sitting on my ass waiting for an opportunity, is my fault!"

  He tries to take advantage of my distraction to come in for a grapple, getting his arms around me from behind. The length of his body presses hot against my back. I bend my knees and launch myself upward, slamming the top of my head into his jaw. He reels back with a shout and I hesitate, waiting to make sure he's all right as he rubs his jaw and shakes the stars from his eyes.

  "OK," he says, his eyes flashing golden and his canines lengthening. "That's just about enough."

  Half shifted, he comes at me again with claws, magically boosted muscle straining the buttons of his shirt. I come back at him just as hard, throwing ruthless jabs at his eyes. He's stronger in this shape but I'm still faster and better trained. He only gets lucky because I'm distracted by my anger, catching me by the hip in a brutal takedown that knocks the wind out of me and leaves all two hundred and something pounds of him pressing down on me. He's breathing hard against the back of my neck, my arm twisted back between me and his chest, my legs trapped between his. I struggle for a minute, forgetting everything I know about breaking grapples in my blind, frustrated fury, shoving my hips back against his. He slowly rests more weight on me, until I'm exhausted and can't move at all.

  "You done?" he growls into my ear.

  "Yeah," I mutter, but he doesn't move.

  "Someone once told me a king is the only man who can kill without intention," he says. "When you're responsible for everyone, everything you do, by action or inaction, without even being aware, can get people killed. Being royalty is about carrying that weight. It's just something you have to get used to."