Page 36 of Property of Mako (Kings of Anarchy MC: Louisiana #1)
An Inferno of Rebirth
Lyra
Fire.
That was the first thing I was aware of. Fire in my chest, my veins, my bones. Every nerve lit up, screaming. I tried to cry out, but the sound that came from me was not human—it was a guttural snarl that ripped from my throat like an animal in pain.
Air—I needed air. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs burned as if they were filling with acid. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would explode, only to seize, then slam again with double the force.
And underneath it—blood. Thick, rich, pulsing. It called to me, demanded I tear it out of someone, anyone, to stop the agony.
I curled in on myself, thrashing. My body didn’t feel like my own—it was too strong, too fast, too violent. The air itself seemed sharp, cutting my skin and shredding inside me when I got a gasp of it. Every sound too loud, every scent too thick—everything simply too much .
The tang of iron filled my mouth, and I realized with horror it was blood—his blood—slicking my tongue and teeth.
Hands tried to hold me down. Strong hands. Familiar hands.
“Lyra—fuck—hold her, Crypt!”
Calix’s voice. My mind grasped for it, but my body wasn’t listening. I lashed out. I shoved, and something cracked. Someone grunted in pain.
“Jesus Christ, she doesn’t know her strength yet!” Crypt’s voice snapped, strained.
Who was he talking about?
Oh God. At the back of my mind, a sliver of lucidity flickered—he was talking about me.
Yet I couldn’t stop myself—I slammed against restraints—chains?
Rope?—I couldn’t tell. They bit into my wrists as I fought them, my body desperate to break free, desperate to feed, desperate to escape the raging fire clawing through every cell.
“No!” I screamed—or thought I did. The sound that tore out was guttural, broken, monstrous. My throat was raw, my teeth aching with need.
The hunger was unbearable. It wasn’t just thirst. It was starvation, bone-deep and endless. Every heartbeat I heard in the room was a drum calling me, every pulse a temptation I couldn’t resist.
“Please,” I begged, sobbing and writhing. “Make it stop—I can’t—I can’t?—”
Calix’s face came into focus above me, his eyes bright, jaw tight with anguish. He held me down with every ounce of his strength, even as my body bucked against him.
“I’ve got you,” he ground out, voice breaking. “You’re mine. You hear me? You’re mine, Lyra. Fight it. Stay with me.”
But the inferno raged on, unrelenting, consuming. My own screams echoed in my skull until they weren’t even mine anymore.
And still—I craved .
Blood.
More.
Always more.
The pain wouldn’t stop. Every nerve was raw, my skin felt flayed from the inside out, my blood boiling until I swore it was tearing me apart.
Then I felt it—hands pressed lightly over my heart, a soothing warmth sliding into me like cool water against the flames. A soft hum, like words I couldn’t understand, flowed through the haze. The agony eased, just a fraction.
My head lolled, eyes finding the source. Dexter. His lips were moving, whispering things in a language that wasn’t English, his face calm, almost serene, as his hands glowed faintly against my skin.
For one blissful moment, the agony dulled. My body trembled, and I thought—I thought maybe I could breathe again.
But then?—
Hunger.
Vicious and unrelenting.
The heat spiked, and my teeth ached so hard I thought they’d shatter. His pulse thundered in my ears. Not just a sound—it was the richest, sweetest lure I had ever known. His blood wasn’t like the others. It was alive in a way that called to the marrow of me.
I snapped.
With a feral snarl, I ripped free of Calix’s grip and launched at Dexter. He didn’t even flinch—his eyes widened in shock as my fangs sank deep into his throat. His blood exploded across my tongue, molten lightning, filling me with a rush so powerful it stole the air from my lungs.
He shouted, a guttural sound of pain, his body convulsing as my nails dug into his shoulders.
“Lyra!” Calix’s roar was thunder in my ears. Hands yanked at me, but I was gone, lost to the ecstasy of the blood. This wasn’t feeding—this was devouring.
Power surged through me, hot, electric, endless. My body arched as if the force of it might split me open. I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop?—
Then something blasted outward from Dexter. A shockwave of heat and light slammed into me, hurling me back across the room. My body hit the wall, chains rattling as I collapsed, twitching, blood still smeared across my lips.
The fire inside me… shifted. It didn’t stop, but it bent, seared into something that listened. The hunger screamed, but I could hear myself again. My chest heaved, my fangs slick with his blood, my eyes locked on Dexter.
He was on his knees, panting, his hand pressed to the wound in his neck—already healing. His blood shimmered faintly on the floor, glowing gold for a fleeting heartbeat before sinking into the ground.
Everyone froze.
“What… the fuck was that?” Crypt whispered, staring at him like he’d never seen him before.
Dexter blinked, dazed, his face pale but steady. “I—I don’t know,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “I was just… trying to help.”
But even through the chaos, the storm still raging inside me, I knew—deep down—I hadn’t tasted just blood.
I’d tasted divinity.
The silence afterward was deafening.
Confused, I sat trembling on the floor, blood still dripping from my lips, chest heaving as the hunger clawed at me. But I wasn’t lost anymore. I was me again. Somehow, impossibly. Kind of.
Dexter’s hand pressed against his throat, but the wound was already gone, the skin unbroken, smooth. No vampire healed that fast. Not even Calix.
And then there was the glow. The faint shimmer where his blood had spilled, like sunlight trapped in water, seeping into the floorboards until it vanished.
“What the hell just happened?” Crypt’s voice cracked sharp through the room.
Nobody answered.
Calix was still crouched near me, his eyes wild, flicking from me to Dexter and back again. His hand gripped my arm like he wasn’t sure if I was going to launch again or fall apart.
Dexter looked just as shaken. “I—I was trying to help her,” he explained hoarsely.
“She was in pain. I thought—if I could just… ease it somehow.” His eyes darted to mine.
“You needed it. You were dying, Lyra. The transition was killing you—I think it might be because of your legacy blood. Amplifiers aren’t meant to… change.”
“Dexter, you shouldn’t have done that.” Calix’s voice was low, lethal. His jaw flexed, but there was more than anger in his tone. There was something like fear. “Vampires in transition are unpredictable—deadly.”
Dexter’s brows pinched. “I didn’t know she’d—” His throat bobbed as if he couldn’t even say it. “I’ve never… no one’s ever reacted like that before. I’ve aided in several transitions over the years.”
Crypt stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “That wasn’t normal healing, Dex. I’ve seen you patch up gunshot wounds and broken ribs like it was nothing, but that…” He pointed to the faint shimmer on the floor. “That wasn’t human. And it sure as fuck wasn’t vampire.”
Everyone’s gaze went back to Dexter.
He lifted his hands slowly, as if surrendering. “I don’t know what to tell you—I always thought I just had a gift.”
But I knew he was lying. Or maybe he just didn’t know what he was. Whatever ran through his veins wasn’t just blood. It was something else. Something ancient and dangerous.
And I had tasted it.
My body still thrummed with the echo of it, a lingering hum beneath my skin that made me both want to curl into a ball and tear the world apart with my bare hands.
Calix’s grip on me tightened, dragging my attention back to him. His eyes searched mine, like he was trying to decide whether to hold me closer or chain me to the floor again.
“Don’t touch her again,” he told Dexter flatly. “Whatever the fuck that was, we’re not testing it again. Her will isn’t strong—she’s too new.”
Dexter looked wounded, but he only nodded. My heart ached for him because he’d only been trying to help me.
No one else spoke.
Because none of them had answers.
And deep down, I had the sickening feeling that when the truth finally came out, none of us were going to like it.