Twenty-Eight
Avalon
She sat on Lysander’s lap, watching him scroll through a list of their properties. They’d spent two days trying to get her to decide where to go, but she was far too scared to leave the house, much less flying to another country.
“Maybe the list is too long,” Varos suggested, rounding the desk to stand behind them. “We should narrow it down.”
“Less populated areas might ease her mind,” Marcus offered.
Lysander filtered the list, hiding properties in the midst of larger cities. “The least populated one is the one in Alaska.”
“You own a property in Alaska? Why?”
“The weather,” Marcus retorted sarcastically.
Lysander rolled his eyes, flipping through the photos for her. “Lycans don’t like the cold, remember? Plus, it’s pretty isolated up there.”
“It’s breathtaking, actually. The wildlife is gorgeous,” Varos explained. “We renovated the house a few years ago to bring it up to modern standards.”
“All I can think about is how cold it is.”
Marcus laughed and shook his head. “We don’t have to worry about the cold, Avalon, but the house is well-heated.”
“Not as large as this one though.” Varos leaned over her, explaining how each room had been brought into the twenty-first century. “You’re not picking a home to live in forever. We can move around as often as you like once you feel comfortable being around humans.”
She loved their little bubble. The one that she’d spent the past few weeks making herself comfortable in. “How would we even get there?”
“Once you feel confident leaving the house, we will take a private plane that I will fly,” Lysander explained.
“You’re a pilot?”
He grinned at her and nodded. “Yes. And we can make sure the hanger is not occupied by anyone else. I can have it ready to fly off so you don’t run the risk of stumbling into an unwanted situation.”
“You could also test your abilities while we’re there.”
She shivered, looking at Marcus who stood there with a broad grin. He’d been open about wanting her to test herself, to explore everything she could now do—especially her speed—but she felt too vulnerable, even scared of herself.
Varos leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Don’t pressure yourself; just think about it.” He moved to leave, but she captured his wrist. Varos crooked a brow, tilting his head curiously.
“Would you all be comfortable there? I mean, it seems like a big transition from Houston.”
“All of these properties have been fitted to our needs,” Varos assured her. “This is the only new one we’ve added recently, but every other home is ours and we feel comfortable living in all of them.”
She nodded slowly, staring at the pictures on the screen. “I would like to see Troy before we go. I mean, I know we can’t take him with us, but I want to see him.”
“I’m sure he’ll be delighted,” Marcus cheered, clapping like a kid on Christmas morning .
“When would you like to see him?” Varos asked. “I believe it is best if we bring him here. We can keep him in the dungeon.”
Since learning about Troy’s fate, she’d been contemplating what to do, but that always seemed to depend on her mood. Some days she wanted to hurt him, others she just wanted to see the look on his stupid face when he realised she could survive—no, thrive without him. “Maybe in the next few days?”
“We’ll make the arrangements.” Varos sounded so casual, as if he were planning nothing more than a business meeting. He held up the arm that she still clung to, sliding his hand back until his fingers tangled with hers. “We will make sure you won’t do anything that you will regret.”
“I know and that’s the only reason I’m agreeing to see him.” She wanted to get up, but Lysander’s arm held her firmly in his lap. “I’m thirsty,” she protested, but relaxed in his grip nonetheless.
“Allow me,” Varos offered, vanishing from the room.
“While we wait for him, you need to make some important choices.” Lysander opened the browser and navigated to a bookstore’s website. “It’ll be hard to order anything while we are there, so you should stock up your library now.”
She spent the next hour choosing books—and another ordering winter clothes. They insisted, and she was growing adjusted to being spoiled. Though Lysander made his displeasure very clear, Ava navigated the clearance sections. She tried not looking at the prices as she added things in the cart and Lysander made sure not to let her see the screen when he checked out. Though it was less for privacy, and more to do with hiding the price.
“We’ve ordered a card for you too,” Varos explained. “So, you don’t have to wait for us to buy you anything. We also set up a wire transfer once a month to your bank account. But please don’t feel like that is your limit.”
She stared at him, struggling not to let her jaw hit the floor. Then she remembered that fighting him—or any of them—on that matter wouldn’t change any of it. “Thank you.”
That evening, she retreated into her room. She wanted some time to herself, and the unfinished canvas she had sitting in the corner was the perfect excuse. The vampire stuff alone was completely overwhelming—now she had Troy added to the mix, and she needed a way to cope. Not only would she have to see him, but refrain from turning into a blood-sucking beast as well. Being with her men had helped her push aside a lot of those awful memories. They’d offered to listen if she wanted to talk, but she’d declined.
She dipped her brush into the paint, sweeping a dark stripe across the canvas. The ominous, brooding colours mirrored the storm brewing inside her. Seeing Troy sent a bubble of panic rolling through her chest. All that man did was take from her—over and over. She feared that he would ruin her own little dream world, because that was the only explanation for being a vampire and having three men worship the ground she walked on. But would seeing Troy again change any of that? Deep down, she’d accepted her fate—dream or not.
When she finally stepped back from the canvas, it was much darker than she’d anticipated. And it made her feel even worse. She fell onto the bed and simply stared at it, trying to imagine what she could do with it.
Then she heard a heartbeat approaching her room. “Come in,” she said, Lysander’s hand still raised to knock.
“I was sent to offer a distraction. Marcus will be back with our guest very soon and thought it might be best if I keep you occupied. They thought it was best to transport him while it’s dark.”
“Just like when the delivery guy came.”
“Yes.” He stepped into the room and sat next to her, taking in the picture she’d just painted. “Is that how you feel?”
“Somewhat.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She paused to make sense of her thoughts, long enough for Lysander to offer her a hand. Their fingers weaved together, and the moment she laid their hands in her lap the words flowed right out of her. “I’m scared to see him again. I’m not afraid of him—I’m afraid of myself. I might go full-on killer and rip him apart. He’d deserve that. Or I’ll fall apart, at the reminder of everything he’s done to me. The only thing I know for sure is that he’ll bring up all those memories I’ve worked so hard to banish.”
“We won’t let you do anything that you don’t want. And if you do fall apart, we are here to catch you.”
She rested against his shoulder and clasped his hand in both of hers. “Knowing that comforts me, but it doesn’t make it any less scary. I don’t want to remember what he has done, don’t want to feel every injury he’s ever given me, yet I know I will.”
Lysander hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her gaze to his. With a lazy grin, he brushed his thumb over her lips before slipping it into her mouth. “I could offer you something to take your mind off it for now…” Her fangs were already interested, which was what Lysander wanted. He pierced his thumb, rubbing his blood onto her tongue. “I could satisfy your thirst, so it won’t be the driving force once he gets here.”
Her brain had no say in the matter. She threw her leg over his lap, sucking on his thumb and wrenching his head to the side. Lysander fell onto the mattress with a grunt. She could see the blood pulsing beneath his skin. Mind clouding with the rush of his blood, she spat his thumb out and dipped her head into the crook of his neck. She moaned, blood flowing into her mouth effortlessly.
“You’re doing so well, Avalon. So, patient with me.” Lysander’s throat vibrated beneath her palm, his hands roaming across her back and hair.
She basked in his caresses, and let his blood naturally flow into her mouth. Feeding on him was the only time her throat didn’t hurt. Even the donated blood wasn’t as good as his. She didn’t want to rush it, needing the feeling of satisfaction to last as long as humanly—or un- humanly possible.
Lysander groaned again. “ Fuck —don’t stop, little dove. I’m yours. Forever.”
Her hands snaked around his neck, fingers twisting into his hair. He was high. She knew the antidote made him say those things, but that didn’t make them any less meaningful. She let her body mould to his. She gave him all her weight, wanting to feel him everywhere. His hold on her tightened, keeping her close. Slowly, he rotated them, laying her against the mattress and blanketing her with this body. The movement made blood shoot into her mouth, and she eagerly swallowed it all.
His head dipped next to hers as he shifted them into a more comfortable position. “Holding you feels so good. Calling you ours is priceless .”
She shuddered at how easily the word ours rolled off his lips. Not once had the three of them fought over her. She’d always belonged to them— all of them. Even as human, she’d captured a few of Lysander’s hidden smiles. He just hadn’t been ready to share himself yet.
“We will never let anything happen to you. Never will you find yourself in a position where you hate yourself for your own actions.”
She rewarded him with gentle tugs to his hair. Her heels dug into the small of his back, needing him as close to her as possible .
“You have us wrapped around your pretty little finger,” he slurred with a dreamy chuckle.
She eased up, taking three more swallows before licking his skin and closing the bite.
“You didn’t have to stop.” Lysander tried to move, but she held him down, still surprised that she had the strength to do so. “Ah, cuddles it is,” he murmured, nuzzling into her neck.
“You know what I enjoy most being with you?”
“What might that be?”
“How easy it feels. I don’t have to watch what I say or do. Don’t have to guard my feelings or hide who I am.”
“We do enjoy seeing all of you and hope that if you feel the need, you can talk to us.”
“You never make me feel bad about wanting alone time with any of you—even if you do get jealous.”
“I have to say, it surprises me that it comes so naturally. I never saw it coming, was never prepared to fall for you, yet here I am. I just love seeing you happy, even if it’s not with me in the moment. I think it helps to know that you will return to me.”
She could only agree with a hum as she soaked up his words and his body’s heat, her mind still fuzzy from the feed. She loved how warm he felt. One hand was still buried in his hair, the other stroking along his lower back.
Varos’s voice filtered in from the kitchen. “You can’t feed him a raw onion!”
“Why not? I’m sure he’ll eat whatever we throw at him.”
“Imagine him not being able to fully grasp what is happening because his brain is deprived of nutrition. You want him aware of what’s about to happen, don’t you?”
“Fine.”
Cabinets opened and shut, then everything fell silent again.
He was here. She hadn’t even noticed Marcus’s return. Now that she was aware, fear crept under her skin again, and she clung to Lysander even tighter. He ran his nose over her jawline, comforting her with his fingers massaging her scalp.
“You don’t have to see him right away. I would encourage you not to go down in the dungeon alone. But even that is up to you.”
“Thank you.”
With her still safe in his arms, he rose to his knees on the bed. “I need food and sleep. I would love for you to join me.”
“Always.”
He kissed her, then swept her up until her legs wrapped around him. “I’m sure once they’ve made sure our guest is settled, Marcus and Varos would love to join too.”
An hour later, she sat on Lysander’s bed, stroking his hair with one hand and Varos’s nape with the other. She leaned against the headboard with Marcus’s head resting in her lap. She loved this, all four of them together, one to each side of her while Marcus always found a way to curl up in her lap.
She tried to focus on them: the texture of Lysander’s frizzy hair, Varos’s cool skin and Marcus’s lips against her inner thigh. She didn’t want to drown in the ocean of her thoughts, didn’t want to be swept away by the waves of uncertainty. She just wanted to get away. More than ever, she wished she could simply fall asleep.
“You’re so tense, little dove.” Marcus’s lips brushed against her skin, his fingers drawing light shapes on her leg. “I can take some of that away.” His tongue darted out for a taste, while his fangs tickled her skin. “Would you like that?”
She could barely nod before Marcus’s fangs pierced her skin. His antidote washed away the pain, spreading through her veins and taking her worries away with it. She didn’t care about Troy in that moment. Her mind only swirled around the touch she shared with her men and the sparks it made her feel. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered to her heart, giving it the illusion of beating again.
She only opened her eyes again when the high faded. She was surprised to find that the room was bathed in the golden light of early morning. Her men were still frozen in place, Lysander smiling up at her. Marcus was kissing his bitemark closed while Varos slipped off the bed and disappeared from the room.
“That felt like sleeping. Thank you.”
“I could do that every night.” Marcus pushed himself up and knelt between her thighs. “How are you feeling?”
“Drowsy.”
He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Good.”
Feeling as if her mind was set, she took the glass Varos was handing her and drank it down. “I’m ready.”
It wasn’t long before they led her to the dungeon, Lysander following behind and stuffing a sandwich in his mouth. Before they reached the bottom step, Varos turned to her and pulled something from his back pocket. He held the small object out to her: a smooth silver necklace. He winced, the metal burning his hand.
“If you hold this, you can focus on the pain.”
“You should refrain from breathing, which also means no talking,” Marcus added, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Not until you feel ready to inhale his scent.”
She took the necklace and wrapped it around her fist, the burn sinking deep into her flesh. Her first instinct was to drop it, but she clenched her fist tighter, leaning into the pain.
“We would like to set some rules. Do you want us to stop you if we see you losing control?” Varos asked.
She nodded .
“Would you like us to shut him up if he says anything that makes you uncomfortable?”
Marcus’s question wasn’t as easily answered but she nodded yet again.
“Don’t make him bleed,” Lysander warned. “You don’t want to provoke her.”
When she took the next step down, Varos guided her to the same dungeon where she’d seen Lysander shift. “The silver in here will make you feel distracted and hopefully lessen your focus on him.”
Human instinct made her want to take a deep, centring breath but as Varos unlocked the door, she stopped herself. It crept open, and she was hit with the most delicious scent. Even without actively breathing, it crept up her nose like a snake trying to coerce her into eating the forbidden apple.
“Focus on the silver,” a deep, urgent voice reminded her, peering through the veil from that dangerous scent. “It’s burning into your skin, remember?”
She wrapped the necklace tighter in her fist, and took another step. Her eyes landed on him and she halted, everything she’d become washed away in an instant. He was tied to the hooks in the wall with ropes, his pathetic human hands not fitting into the contraptions designed for Lysander’s lycan.
“W-what the fuck?” Troy stammered, thrashing against the ropes as she approached.
His heart raced, his veins protruding gorgeously as fear pumped through his veins. Fear she could sense, fear she wanted to taste.