Thirst: The Kresova Vampire Harems: Aurora Read online

  “Come for me, ma belle.”

  My sex pulses around his thick cock, and I pant his name. “Carver. Mmm, yes, Carver.”

  His strokes are no longer even. He laps at my breast as more blood trickles from the puncture marks. His breath is hot against the sensitive skin as he pounds into my slick channel.

  Thrust. “Tell me what you need, ma belle.” Thrust. “Tell me.” Thrust.

  His final command throws me over the cliff, and I fly into ecstasy screaming his name. My walls tighten around him as I come. Waves of pleasure assault my nerve endings and he continues to thrust inside me.

  “Encore une fois. One more, ma belle. Encore une fois.”

  His thumb notches against my cleft, and he applies pressure to my clit. His touch on the bundle of nerves sends me over the edge again on the end of my first orgasm, and I scream until I can’t scream anymore.

  I clutch at him while I ride each crest of bliss. He jerks in my arms and stills, buried deep inside me. Mumbled French falls from his lips as he pumps into me once more. Our chests heave, and we pant from the exertion. Bodies slick with a mixture of sweat and the blood still trickling from the two punctures on my breast, I sigh and roll onto my back.

  Carver adjusts and then does the same, he opens his mouth to speak, but I place a finder over his lips.

  “No. No talking tonight, okay? The real conversations can happen tomorrow.”

  He nods “All right, ma belle. Just for tonight.”

  He takes my hand tugging me half onto him. Though I’d only woken just a while ago, the combination of our intense, mind-alerting sex, blood loss from Carver’s bit, and the newness of the transition have me thoroughly spent. I lay my head on his chest and moments later, I fall into the deepest sleep of my life.

  Chapter 11

  As the fog of last nights' desire passes, the weight of my actions hits me.

  I had sex with Carver last night.

  No, not just sex. Like spiritual, animalistic mating. The kind of sex that binds you to another person. Embeds you into their very being. I hadn’t meant for it to be deep—and yet somehow, it was. As if shit isn’t complicated enough, I decided to add to my problems by sleeping with Morana’s sex-toy. I must have a death wish.

  Daylight shines in through my white cotton curtains, and I narrow my eyes to dull the ache. I hold my breath and slowly turn over, hoping that Carver is either A, still asleep. If he sleeps at all. I forgot to ask. Or B, gone and I can avoid the “night after hot, sweaty sex” awkwardness.

  I’m almost all the way over when the bed squeaks. Shit. I freeze, waiting for any signs of life to stir behind me. As the seconds pass and nothing happens, I glance over my shoulder to see that the bed is empty. Twisted sheets and an imprinted pillow are the only evidence that someone had slept there—or at least laid there for some time.

  I’m relieved and yet oddly disappointed.

  I gather the sheet around my naked body and pause, remembering that the change is complete. My stomach churns with that familiar feeling you get just before the drop of a rollercoaster.

  I’m a vampire. A Kresova.

  I sit back and stare out the window, glimpses of the city visible through small cracks. Holy hell. I survived the transition without Morana. I’m still not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse, but part of me is itching to stick my tongue out like a child and say, “See! I didn’t need you!” Instead, I settle for silently smiling to myself.

  Curious, I lift my tongue to reach my canines for inspection. No dangerously sharp edges. In fact, they feel exactly the same as before, maybe better.

  I hear the small flash of a word in the air, and I swear its Caver talking. I focus my attention and listen intently. Seconds later, with an unprecedented clarity, I can her Carver and Reina chatting away in the kitchen. I stand up and head over to my dresser, taking the sheet with me. I pull open the dresser and grab some undies, a pair of my fave boyfriend jeans and an old Star Wars t-shirt with the slogan, ‘the force is strong with this one’ scrolled across the chest.

  I toss the sheet back onto the bed, noticing spots of blood scattered on the fitted sheet. Freaking hell. How did I forget about that? I tug down the neck of my blouse and look at the top of my breasts. A faded bruise is the only evidence remaining of Carver’s bite. I brush my fingers over the skin, and a rush of desire crashes into me. Flashes of Carver’s mouth sucking against my breast as he pounds into me flood my mind. I squeeze my legs together just to cease the ache circling my thighs.

  After stopping in the bathroom to rinse my face and brush my teeth, I head into the kitchen.

  I freeze in the hallway as the sight of Carver’s bare, muscled flesh has me hypnotized. The sun casts shadows across his bare back. A back that I’d undoubtedly left marks on last night. Apparently, I’ll add fast healing to my checklist of, “Cool things about being Kresova.

  “Bonjour, ma belle. Did you sleep well?” Carver turns in his stool to look at me, a devastatingly handsome smile splayed across his face. His jaw is covered in stubble, and it gives him a devil-may-care look. The sparkle and knowledge of what we did last night lights his eyes, and I want to duck my head before Reina notices. Not that she could manage not to. Carver’s comfortable nakedness was a strong enough hint.

  Reina clears her throat at the stove, a wooden spoon in her hand and a giddy smile on her face.

  I step around him and take a seat and the third stool, giving us some space. “Morning.”

  Carver chuckles, but doesn’t seem put off as he goes back to tapping away on his phone. Reina speaks before I can figure out just what exactly I can say about a sexy French vampire sitting in our kitchen on a Saturday morning half naked and looking delicious.

  “Coffee’s over here,” she says before adding, “So, how are you feeling? Are you okay? You seem okay. Did it hurt?”

  I reach for a mug, but she blocks me. “You can’t have any until you give me all the details.” She waggles her brows at me, and I laugh despite myself, knowing that she’s referring to my change and the obvious sex I’d had last night.

  “Holding my coffee hostage?”

  “You bet your ass I am.”

  I shuffle over her and pretend to have trouble reaching for it. When I’ve finally given her enough of a chance, I move insanely fast and snag the pot.

  “Holy shit!” She leans back onto the counter and just stares. “You really are a vampire. This is so nuts.”

  “Tell me about it.” I roll my eyes, and Carver groans from the kitchen bar. Reina and I both look over to see him frowning down at his phone.

  “Is everything okay?”

  I meet Carver’s eyes over the rim of my coffee cup and study him. His ice blue eyes with flecks of silver that swirl with emotions hold me hostage. “I—”

  “What?” I ask him.

  He only shakes his head. His phone buzzes again, and Reina and I look at each other. Carver rises from his perch at the breakfast bar and puts it to his ear.

  “Oui.”

  Trepidation churns my stomach that’s it’s Morana calling. Is she checking in on me? Asking to see me again? Or worse yet, asking Carver to dispatch of me. And if she did? Would he? Sure, we’d had sex, but there weren’t any declarations or promises made.

  He heaves a heavy sigh, his shoulders tense. He starts speaking in rapid fire French. Faster than Reina or I can follow or try to piece together with our limited knowledge. My head turns as I watch Carver pace from left to right. Left to right.

  “Merde.” Carver tosses his phone roughly onto the counter top. He stands with his back to us, his hands on his narrow hips. His shoulders move as he takes a deep breath before he hangs his head for a moment. Another deep breath, and he raises his head again and turns to face us, his attention on me. He opens his mouth to speak before shaking his head sluggishly.

  “What? What is it?” I ask.

  “Nothing good,” mutters Reina.

  Carver puts his hands on his hips again and rocks back on h
is heels. “That was un de mes amis. He has some news.” Carver pauses, and my stomach feels like it drops to my feet.

  “Well?” I shake my hand in front of me in agitation. “What’s the news?”

  “He is on his way over.” His lips twist in displeasure. “We can discuss it when he arrives.”

  “Well what does the news have to do with me anyways?” I frown.

  “I have a theory, ma belle. He is pursuing it for me.”

  “What kind of theory?”

  He smiles and touches my cheek. “The life altering kind, chérie.”

  Damn.

  This couldn’t be good.

  A few hours later, Reina had peppered Carver with a million and one questions about being Kresova and the life of an ancient vampire. I’d listened in for only maybe half of the conversation. For the most part, I lay on the sofa zoning out into the TV as we awaited the arrival of Carver’s friend. The one who brought, in my opinion, not-so-good news.

  The minute I heard the car engine shut off, my head snaps up, and I sit up. Three knocks hit the door, and my throat tightened. Carver flows up like water from the couch in one fluid motion. I blink, and he’s across the room, his hand twisting the brass door knob.

  “Rowland,” Carver says opening the door and greeting his friend with a lighthearted smile.

  Both vampires greet each other in a foreign language similar to that which I’d heard while in Morana’s presence. With a guffaw, Carver throws his head back in laughter, the sound purely masculine. They both grab for each other, and do the man hug. Half hug half back slap and a whole lot of squared shoulders.

  I clear my throat as they continue to talk in that strange language, and Carver spins to face me.

  “Ah, ma belle, oui. This is Rowland Braxton. Rowland, this is Aurora Hedvige and her friend Reina.”

  “Call me Row.” He nods his head with a crooked smile to both of us. “No last name for you then, love?” Rowland asks with a quirked brow in Reina’s direction.

  Reina plants her chin on her fist. “Wardell. Reina Wardell, but you can call me Reina, sexy.” She gives him a wink, and I shake my head at her incorrigible flirting.

  Just as Carver is about to close the door, Rowland stops him. Carver’s humor fades as Rowland says something and points back out the door. I want to hear their lowered conversation, but I’m still learning how to focus.

  “Why have your brought him?”

  “Because, he’s the only one whose had recent contact. He’s on good terms.”

  “Better than you?” Carver asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Fine.” Carver steps away from the door, leaving it cracked open for whoever else was coming. He takes up the seat beside me, leaving me nowhere to escape. I’m not sure if its intentional or not. Row grabs a bar stool and moves it to the opposite side of the coffee table. He plops down into the chair sitting backwards.

  “As we wait for Lucian, you should probably explain things to, Aurora.”

  “Lucian?” I ask.

  “Lucian DeFontaine,” Carver says. “He is another Kresova who has a connection we may need.”

  I grab a pillow and tuck it into my lap. “Need for what?”

  “Chérie.” Carver raises a hand and tucks back a loose tendril of my hair. I’m not big on PDA, so all this touchy stuff will take some getting used too. “It is important that I explain some background first. It will make much of what is to come easier to understand.”

  “Okay.”

  Reina slides onto the floor by my legs just as Carver begins. “I believe that your turning came for a reason, and I’m almost certain that a tale I’d learned of years ago, may in fact be true.” He pauses and looks me directly in the eyes, “And that it may involve you.”

  “Me and like what? A prophecy?”

  “Yes.”

  I can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of me. “I was kidding, Carver. Aren’t you?”

  “Non, ma belle. I’m afraid not.”

  “And this Lucian guy?”

  “He is our way in with these people,” Row interrupts, “the ones who will have answers.”

  “From the moment I first found you,” Carver says, “I’d known something was different, Aurora. Something special pulsed from within you, but your meeting with the queen confirmed it all to me.”

  “What—”

  The door creaks open, and the first thing I notice are the black boots that cross the threshold and wipe down onto the mat. My eyes trail up along long, firm legs wrapped in deep denim, blue jeans. A black, short sleeve shirt is fitted over a man’s wide sculpted chest. Sun-kissed skin covers his exposed flesh, and his strong, angular jaw is set tight. His eye are hidden beneath black Ray-ban sunglasses that match his obsidian hair. There’s something rough and aggressive and powerful about him.

  It radiates toward me, drawing me in.

  He’s dark and sexy and everything I don’t expect.

  The heat of someone watching me crawls down my neck and causes me to turn. I find Carver studying my face. He glances to Lucian and back to me, raising a brow.

  Wow, I’m a shithole. I still want Carver, that hasn’t changed, but this man walks in, and I’m suddenly ready to screw him too, maybe both at the same time. Did becoming a vampire go hand in hand with wanting to fuck every vampire I see?

  No, it doesn’t. Because Row is hot as fuck, and outside of appreciating his good looks, I’m not inclined to sleep with him. And Charles . . . aside from the fact that he was technically a permanent teenager, I didn’t want to bang him either.

  “Lucian,” Row calls out in greeting and waves him in. He pauses in the doorway, his gaze focused on the living room. I can’t see his eyes under the tint, but I swear he’s looking at me. He clears his throat and slips off his sunglasses revealing full black brows and deep-set chestnut eyes.

  “Row.” Holy fuck. His voice is rough and gravely, and I’m imagining him rolling his tongue all over my body while he whispers my name.

  I clear my throat and focus on the ground. Carver leans down and gently brushes a knuckle to my cheek. “Ma belle, are you alright?”

  “What? Yeah, I’m fine.” My words are so unconvincing, I may as well have a red neon ‘No, I’m not alright’ sign flashing over my head. Carver doesn’t say anything else as he taps a finger to his lips.

  The only spot left for Lucian is on the other side of Carver.

  “It’s been a long time, Marceau.” He chuckles as he drops onto the sofa. Giddy butterflies speed around my stomach, and I nervously tuck my loose hair behind my ear. I honestly don’t understand what’s happening to me. I’m drawn to Carver and now Lucian.

  “Yes, it has, Lucian.” Carver scoots closer to me. “I see you are still the dramatic vampire as always. You know we are allowed to wear colors, yes? Black is not a requirement.”

  “But I look damn good in it, don’t it?”

  Row and Reina both laugh, and Carver tries to hold back a grin. Clearly there’s some tension between them, but if it wasn’t there, I bet they could be great friends.

  “Lucian, this is Aurora Hedvige.” Carver takes my hand in his, and I automatically turn toward them.

  “Pleasure,” Lucian says, quickly looking away from me. What the fuck? Why won’t this dude ever look me in the eye?

  “Aurora is the reason we need to see Harlow.”

  “You only go to Harlow for one reason,” Lucian replies.

  “Yes, you do.” Abruptly, Carver takes my hand and places it atop Lucian’s. The second our three hands connect, Lucian’s eyes darken, Carver groans, and I feel as though a jolt of electricity has raked through me, half expecting my hair to be standing on end.

  Lucian tugs his hand back and practically jumps off the couch. “What the hell was that?”

  “Taisez-vous!” Carver exclaims, bolting upright as well. “I knew it.”

  His speed almost knocks me off the couch, “Jeez, Carver! Knew what?”

  “The prophecy, it is true. I did
n’t imagine it would happen so soon—but it has.”

  Lucian’s now standing near the kitchen, hands on his hips. “What the fuck are you talking about, Marceau?” He still won’t look at me for longer than a couple of seconds, and even that seems to be too long for him.

  Carver turns to me. “Long years ago, I met a woman who spoke to me of a prophecy. A tale of three queens, known as the Drias.”

  “You’re talking about Harlow?” Lucian says. “The Alpha’s daughter?”

  Carver shakes his head, no someone else.

  “Alpha? As in shifters?” Reina asks.

  Row smiles down at her., “Yup.”

  “This connection between you two”—Carver glances between Lucian and I— “between the three of us, only confirms it.”

  Lucian’s massive arms cross his chest. “Confirms what?”

  I can sense something hidden under his words, as though his question to Carver is rhetorical.

  “The rise of the Drias. Aurora is the first.”

  “The first Daya?” I ask butchering the word.

  “Dria, chèrie.”

  “Whatever.”

  Carver takes my hand. “Ma belle, the Drias are three queens destined to rise to power when joined with their consorts. The only three queens who can eliminate the darkness within our monarchy and bring about a balance for the Kresova.”

  “Are you on crack? I’ve just become a vampire and now you’re telling me I am some kind of warrior queen who is supposed fight—and defeat, Morana? No way.” I tug myself free of him. “She’s terrifying and old and crazy as shit.”

  “This is not the sort of thing you can walk away from.”

  “You know, you’ve been saying that to me an awful lot, Carver. I really don’t like it.”

  “I’m sorry chérie, but it is as it is.”

  “Is what it is,” I correct him.

  He gives me a tight smile and tugs his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Lucian, you felt it. You know it’s true, as do you Aurora.”

  “I’m sorry.” I throw my hand up. “Only a day ago, you were telling me no one disobeys the queen. That no one could go against her and win.”