“Lavinia?” Carver’s voice is a mix of surprise and recognition.

The shadows surrounding the woman fade as she comes into my line of sight. Without even seeing her, I immediately sense that she’s another vampire. She stops in front of me and glances down. Willowy, her long chestnut hair is pin straight and her eyes are as sharp as a hawk. She’s attractive, but there’s a hardness about her.

Who the hell is this chick?

“Don’t seem so shocked, love. You must have had your suspicions.”

“Non, Lavinia. I would never have imagined you were behind this. The followers of Abhartach claim to be better than Morana’s. You have always claimed to be better. Now you’re turning innocents into unsanctioned vampires knowing that their death is sealed with your bite?”

Carver takes a step forward, but she tsks him and he stills.

She says, “I find it hard to have my choices judged by Morana’s most loyal assassin.”

“Much has changed over these long years, Lavinia.” Carver glances at the blade pressed to my throat. “I have changed.”

“Are you not still one of Morana’s companions?”

“Yes,” he nods. “But sometimes the best way to put an end to your enemy, is to become their ally.”

“What are you saying?” She crosses her arms and watches him with predatory eyes.

“That our goals have always been the same, we each want to end Morana. But you chose the path of war, and I chose . . . the alternative.”

“Then stand back and let me do as I must.” She snatches the blade and I try to shit free, but I’m no match for a vampire her age. Everyone jerks and the tension filling the dank air is almost thick enough to choke one. Apparently getting your head sliced off is among the ways to kill a vampire.

Carver steps forward his arms wide, “There is no need to harm her. In fact, Aurora here is the answer we have been waiting for.”

“What do you mean?”

“You once told me about the prophecy of the Drias, yes?” Carver says.

“And it never came to fruition.”

“No, it has.” Carver shakes his head, “Aurora is the first.”

“I waited too many long years, Carver, to simply ‘take your word’. I’ve sat back, watching Morana murder, maim and destroy life after life. She is a poison to the Kresova—to everyone. Abhartach is the only one who can save us, and can only be returned to this world by the blood of the survivor. The one who doesn’t require the vein of the false Queen.”

Pain and desperation are heavy in her words.

“And Aurora will give her blood willingly, because she seeks the fall of Morana, perhaps more than any of us. You will only need a few drops of her blood. As the first Dria is holds all the power you need.”

She cackles wildly, tears in her eyes. “You expect me to believe this?”

“Both Harlow Shaw the prophetess, and Mama Lisette of the Aeos, have confirmed it.”

She falls silent and everyone on both sides of the bayou, await anxiously for her decision. I hope she listens, because even though she’s threatening to kill me, her anguish over what Morana has done can’t be ignored. I get it. We all do stupid things when were desperate—and this woman, whoever she is—is far beyond desperation.

If she makes the right choice, I’ll help her.

She nods at Carver and release me, practically thrusting me into his arms. He gathers me tightly against his chest, “Are you hurt anywhere, ma belle?”

I shake my head as Lucian comes u to stand protectively at my side. He doesn’t touch me, but the thoughtful relief in his eyes makes my chest tighten.

“That’s why you’ve been turning people?” I say, looking across the swap at Lavinia. “Why you turned me?”

“Yes. We’ve been turning thousands of humans all over the world in hopes of finding the one.

“Thousands?”

She nods, “Yes, our first attempts were much more secretive, but as time wears on, I’ve chosen more public methods.”

“Why?” Carver asks.

“To remind the Kresova that there are those who do not abide by Morana’s rule. Rebellion cannot begin with a whisper. It must be louder than a war cry to capture the attentions of those who would rather hide than face the truth.”

“You can’t kill innocent people.”

“You are a young Kresova, Aurora. And soon enough you will learn that though it is unfortunate, a few innocent deaths are always for the greater good.” She rests the long blade over her shoulder. “The traitor Morana has plans that go far beyond her current control. Sometimes this is what is necessary in a war.”

I want to hate her—hate all of them for the lives they’ve taken—for the life they stole from me, but I can’t.

Lavinia’s remaining men now stand beside her, “So, you will give your blood to return Abhartach?”

“Yes, I will.” Carver squeezes my hand and smiles down at me. I start to stretch out my arm, but Lavinia’s words stop me.

“No, girl. Not today. Today we bury our dead, heal our wounds, and rest. Very soon, I will come for you.” She speaks to her men French and they follow her out of the swamp, their footsteps sloshing in mud and water. She stops at the edge of the clearing and looks back. “I am trusting you tonight to keep your word Carvell Marceau. Do not make me regret it, because if I do—so will she.”

Her finger is pointed directly at my chest and I can’t hide the shiver her words evoke from me. She means it. If we don’t help them, they won’t let us forget it.

* * *

Hours later, Lucian and Row had gone home, Reina had passed out after a long bath, and I stood in my room, staring out into the night.

When we’d first returned home, I just wanted to disappear under the covers. Carver had given me privacy, choosing to sit in the living room while I processed everything I’d learned in the last twenty-four hours.

At some point, after I’d taken a shower, mindlessly washing my hair and body free of mud and sludge, Carver knocks on the door.

“Aurora?” He comes in and eyes me up and down. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.” I shrug.

“How can I help?”

“I don’t know. I need to feel something, Carver. Something other than numb.”

“Ma belle…”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.” I hush him.

I need to him inside of me again. Need to feel his cock buried deep inside me as he drinks from me. To know that being a Kresova won’t end my life. It won’t make me a murdering psycho bent on bleeding everyone I know dry. I want to feel him against me as he takes what he needs to survive. To flourish.

I shift my arms and let the top of my robe drop open, baring my heavy breasts to him. It’s a taunt. I want him to want me. To desire me so deeply he can’t think straight.

“Ta peau scintille au clair de lune, ma belle. I want to trace every curve of your body.” I whimper at his words and a rush of moisture dampens my pussy further. “With my tongue.”

Unable to stand it, I reach up and cup my own breasts. I knead at the hardened points and apply the right amount of pressure to them. Each tug of my swollen nipples weakens my knees until I can barely stand.

Carver watches me from beneath hooded eyes. He licks his lips as I pinch harder and moan in need for him. “I want your hands on me, Carver.”

“Non. Not yet, ma belle. First, I want you bared to me. Lose the robe.” I obey his command, caught in this spell of desire he’s weaved around us.

I pry my hands away from teasing myself and push the rest of the silky cotton down my arms until the fabric pools at my feet.

Carver’s stark stare makes me self-conscious. I’m in shape, but I could stand to slim down. Like any woman, baring it all to a man is an act of vulnerability. And after today, I’m more vulnerable than I want to be. I walk towards him instead of letting him look his fill. Instead of covering my body with my hands and arms, I brush past him and sashay to my unmade bed.

He stalks me with his gaze and his body. His body turns as I pass him, and his eyes devour not just my body, but my soul.

I don’t turn to look back at him. I throw my shoulders back and try to throw caution to the wind. I wait for that switch to flip in my head. I wait until my inner sex whore comes out to play and then I climb up on my bed on all fours. I crawl to the middle of the bed and shake my hips.

I blink, and Carver is behind me, his smooth hand cupping the cheeks of my ass. His hand follows each and every curve while he hums his approval.

“Ma belle. I said I wanted to look my fill of you.” He tsks me. “You are trying to rush me.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I wiggle my ass in his hand and let out a little mewl when his hand slips lower to the soaked folds of my pussy. He drags his fingers through my soft flesh, and I wiggle for a different reason.

“More.” I beg.

He circles a finger around my opening and pushes the tip of his thick digit inside me. I buck back forcing myself on his finger, and he tsks again. “Ma belle. You will get your way. The feel of your silken fleur against my fingers has sent the last of my control out the door.” With his words, he swirls his finger inside of my depths. He circles until he hits a secret spot that makes me clench my thighs around his hand.

He meant out the window, but I don’t correct him. Not when I hear the sound of his jeans unzipping.

“Hurry.” I pant in need for him to fill me with more than just a finger.

“We have all night. Just because I will give you what you need does not mean I will not take my time giving it to you.”

At the word you, he sinks into me. With two more thrusts, he’s seated deep inside of me. He doesn’t pull out immediately after. He let my swollen pussy adjust to every ridge of his thick cock. After a few moments, I wiggle my ass back against him.

He chuckles, and starts moving. Slowly he withdraws. Just as slowly, he returns. With more patience than a saint he set up a slow but steady pace. Each stroke lights up my nerve endings like a shooting star. It isn’t fast enough, but it’s enough to build a ball of fiery need inside my core. With each thrust, he fans the flames higher and higher. We move as one while we climb the peak together.

His strokes become more jagged, less even.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant. I’m so close to exploding all around him.

“The way your petite fleur flutters around me, ma belle. C'est magnifique.”

Carver leans over my back and cages me in his arms. His hand brushes the hair sticking to my neck out of his way, and he peppers the back of my neck with little kisses as he praises me in French.

“Carver.” I breathe his name. I push back against him with each thrust as he angles his hips and hits that spot inside of me that sends me flying. I clamp down on his cock and let out a wail of incoherent pleasure.

“Oui, ma belle, oui. Give it to moi.” Carver’s voice is strained as he continues to move against me. His pace falters with each clench of my pussy around his hard length.

I give him all of my pleasure. I arch back against him and let each burst of nirvana light up my body. I follow each spark to the next until I see stars.

Carver swears and bites down on the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. Harder than the last time, this isn’t a gentle bite. He bites into me hard, and drinks deep. With a powerful thrust, he pushes me flat onto my stomach and spends himself inside of me. His front plastered to my back, he quenches his thirst and takes his pleasure from my body. He doesn’t apologize for his needs. He revels in them.

His cock pulses inside me once more, and he lets out a low moan.

Slowly, he retracts his teeth from where they’re buried in my shoulder. I wince as he crouches over me. He hadn’t been gentle when he bit me. I’ll probably be sore in the morning.

I roll over, and watch him, admiring every single feature as he adjusts our bodies before he grabs a pillow off the floor and fluffs it behind his head. Finally settled into a comfortable position, he pulls me into his arms.

“Fais de beaux rêves, ma belle.”

After tonight I wasn’t sure how well I’d sleep, but now I’m sated. The future is speeding toward me like a bullet train, fast and terrifying. I barely know what to expect, and the unknown frightens me more than any of it. But for tonight, I have simplicity and peace—and I’ll take it.

His words swim through my head as I close eyes and let my mind drift. Sweet dreams indeed.