Broken Dreams (Broken Promises Book 1)

by Charlotte Brice

  Just getting Roken up the stairs was a nightmare. It wasn’t wide enough for Oscar and Seb to walk side by side, let alone with Roken between them. They had to take each step of the stairs slowly, and their combined weight made heavy groans on the creaky stairs. Every now and then Roken would let out slurred mumblings and pull an arm or leg free, threatening their balance on the stairs. “Relax, Ro. We’re taking you up to bed,” Seb muttered near the shifter’s ear, but it didn’t make any difference to Roken. He still twitched and kicked randomly in his sleep like a dreaming dog.

  The top of the stairs was not the end, but they both needed to stop for a breather after wrestling the sleeping shifter up the first flight. They still had another flight to climb to reach Roken’s bedroom on the top floor and all they had to do when they got there was dump the idiot on the bed and go. Seb would probably stay and make him comfortable but all Oscar wanted was to fall into his own bed.

  A few minutes pause and Oscar was ready to get this over with. Seb lifted Roken up and Oscar took his other arm. There were plenty of bedrooms on the middle floor, but none of them were Roken’s. His was up the next flight of stairs and then back along the corridor until they were virtually above where they were standing. They started up the second flight of stairs, Seb’s determination to get Roken to bed rather than leave him downstairs to sleep it off showed Seb really did have a softer side. Somewhere.

  They were halfway up the second flight when Arlo’s howl from the bathroom rang through the house. Both men stopped in their tracks at the sound. Oscar’s first instinct was to check on his friend, but leaving would leave Roken precariously balanced on the stairs.

  Seb nodded to Oscar that he’d manage Roken, and Oscar dropped Roken’s legs, abandoning him in Seb’s grip. He rushed back down the stairs and through the hallway, then burst into the bathroom. Arlo was standing against the wall and Heather was kneeling in front of him with Arlo’s shaft balls deep in her mouth. Her contented sucking noises showed that she was unaware of the danger posed by the man she pleasured. Arlo snarled, his mouth all fangs, his eyes dilated yellow saucers of raw canine desire.

  “You’re gonna need to stop there, lovely,” Oscar called to her, approaching cautiously. Arlo's inner wolf still unnerved him, and those fangs currently snarling at him put his vampire teeth to shame.

  Oscar gingerly edged towards Heather, hoping to get her attention and pull her to safety without upsetting Arlo too much, but he hesitated as he noticed something different about his friend’s snarl. Arlo’s growl was different. It wasn’t threatening, but more an expression of something. Pleasure? Pain? Both?

  Arlo looked right at Oscar, then looked down at Heather and something like a whine escaped his curled lips. He blinked his large, yellow eyes and did the most unexpected thing. He pulled up the towel that barely covered Heather’s otherwise naked body.

  Was Arlo inviting him to join them? Oscar stalled at the thought, but his cock pulsed in time with Heather’s movements. He did nothing. How could he? How could he not? She was a beauty. Hot and ready and more than willing, but she was vulnerable. And Oscar knew better than to take what belonged to Arlo’s wolf.

  Heather moved her hand to her exposed rear and gave it an inviting slap. His cock throbbed like it had never seen a naked woman before, and he couldn't contain it anymore. All conscious thought floated away, and the decision was no longer his. He needed her. Now. Whatever he was going to do, he had to do it now.

  He tore off his clothes, his cock already hardening ready to take her. His hands grabbed her ass cheeks, his tip brushed her cheeks, and she angled her hips up to meet him. She was hot and wet, and his cock slipped willingly into her folds as he pushed in deep. Oscar’s pelvis snapped forward, taking her hard and fast. His hands slid to her hips, and his throat filled with his moans. God, she felt so good!

  As he felt his climax build, his own canines extended in his mouth. He could feel the bloodlust building in his gut. He wanted her blood. No, he thought. He couldn’t. He had a feeling that she would never forgive him. As he pounded deep inside her, he knew he couldn’t risk scaring her away. He wanted to be around this woman, with this woman, inside her.

  Both men exploded in unison. There was something about sharing her. They both throbbed inside her, satisfying her needs along with their own. As the pleasure of their orgasms slowly faded, Arlo’s pupils contracted, and his expression regained awareness.

  “Welcome back” Oscar smiled, showing his own fangs.

  Heather sat back and smiled at the men, but the sight of their fangs made her a bit apprehensive. “You’re a vampire?” she frowned at him.

  “That’s right,” Oscar responded, nodding. He was surprised not only did she know what a vampire was but that she wasn’t automatically afraid of him.

  “And you’re a shifter?” she asked, her gaze moving across to Arlo.

  “I told you we weren’t human,” Arlo said, his teeth returning to normal even as he spoke.

  “That was amazing,” Heather told them, still breathless from her unplanned spit roast. “We can do that again, anytime.”

  Oscar caught Arlo’s glance, and the shifter gave him a devious smile. Strangely, neither of them had an issue with that.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A fter being abandoned by Oscar, Seb continued dragging Roken to his room alone. It was a struggle holding Roken by his shoulder and pulling back his covers, then he could drop him down onto the mattress and be done. But Roken's top was wet with beer and dirty with mud, a pang of guilt made him hesitate. He couldn't leave Roken like that.

  “So, what do you think of our companion for the night?” Seb made conversation without hope of an answer, just to pass the time as he removed Roken's boots. “Heather was wearing boots like these, though yours are tied tighter,” he complained as he tugged futilely at Roken’s laces.

  If Heather had chosen her footwear for running, she couldn't have had a wide choice. The big, bulky boots were heavy on her feet, too big and tied so loosely her feet would have slipped around uncomfortably inside them. Her dress was odd too, frilly and puffy. It didn't go with the club or the boots. It was a nice colour but the rest of it was hideous.

  “How human is she, Ro?” Seb asked, finally winning his battle with the first boot and let it drop to the floor. Roken would be the best person to answer that question. As far as Seb could tell, she was mostly human, but there was something else to her as well. There was something more to her. Of course, that didn't make her bad, or dangerous. It made her exciting and mysterious, and his cock pulsed at the thought of having a woman that reminded him so much of Dharla sleeping under his roof. She had the same strength of character as his lost beloved. There were not many women who could stay so calm and level-headed with four strangers and no memory.

  The second boot dropped to the floor with a thud. Next, he started on Roken’s trousers. They unbuttoned easily enough but tugging them down was proving to be tricky. “Oy, dickhead!” Seb called as he shook Roken's feet, hoping for some help. Roken muttered at him and tried to roll onto his side, but Seb stopped him. He hadn't finished putting him to bed yet. Roken’s movements helped pull the trousers over his hips and it was easier to pull them down his legs.

  “It’s nice having someone different in the house,” Seb continued his one-sided conversation. “Nice to have a woman in the house.” He would get no answers from Roken until the six pints wore off in the morning. With just his wet top to go, Seb sat Roken up. He couldn’t stay upright on his own, but Seb managed to hold him with his knee and pull his top off as he fell back onto his pillow.

  Seb looked down at the shifter and sighed. Life had been hard over the last few years, harder than it had been before. They needed something new, something or someone to break the monotony of their daily lives.

  He stood up and left Roken snoring to himself. His own room, the largest bedroom in the house, was cold and dark. His large bed dominated the room like he dominated his women. Many women had pleased him
. Many more had fed him. Maybe now it was finally time for one to heal him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  H eather hadn't slept well. How could she after a day like that? Both Arlo and Oscar, at the same time? What was she thinking?

  At the time, it had been little more than instinct and desire. It had felt so natural, so good. Then she had slept in a strange bed, in a strange man's shirt, and there had been something familiar about it. It had sent her headlong into questions about her past, and thinking about the life she’d left behind gave her stomach-churning fears. Had she left a family? Were there children waiting for her to come home? That thought hadn't set her up for a good night’s sleep. But worrying about it wasn’t getting her anywhere. She could waste away worrying over what she left behind, or she could put it aside for now and pray for the return of her memory, or some clue as to how to find it.

  Heather was an early riser, or at least she was today. A billow of dust greeted her as she opened the curtains, giving her the feeling that they didn't get opened very often. It was better once she'd pushed open the shutters and let in some light and some much-needed fresh air, but dust coated every surface. These men were in need of a much smaller house, or a housekeeper's touch.

  There was a second door off to the left. A quick investigation showed a bathroom, but it was obvious why Arlo had taken her to the main bath. This one had been nice once, maybe back in the 70’s. And while nothing bad had happened to the room in that time, nothing good had happened either.

  It was 6AM, and she didn't expect her heroes to rise so early, but a good overall clean was in order. She carefully turned the handle to open her bedroom door, not wanting to disturb anyone. The main bathroom was untouched from her late-night dip, the water still in the tub and cold with a soapy film on the top. That was her first job.

  She couldn't recall another bathroom in her life, but this was a grand one. The roll top bath in the centre of the room, the shower in the corner, a double sink and of course the toilet. She drained the tub, then scrubbed everything until it gleamed. It hadn't been hard. The supplies had been in the cupboard. Abandoning this room was a more recent thing it seemed. Once the room was cleaned down to the flaky mint green paint, Heather snuck back to her room, the cleaning products held tight in her arms like ill-gotten gains.

  She cleaned her en-suite, ridding it of decades of dust, and it would have looked quite decent after she was done, if avocado fixtures were still in fashion. It scared her slightly to admit she had enjoyed it. As she continued cleaning, Heather pondered her actions. She knew about bathroom trends and enjoyed cleaning. She obviously enjoyed sex. Maybe she had escaped a life as a high-end hooker with a cleaning fetish? Or a domestic cleaner with a healthy sex life? No, inviting a second man to join us was more than a healthy sex life. Definitely a hooker. Damn it.

  Her room didn't take much cleaning. It was mostly just a case of wiping away the years of dust, but her arms ached for it. A naughty thought of making her men scrub the rest of the house filled her mind while the monotony of the job took over. She could picture herself sitting with a cup of tea, feet up on a stool, watching those four hunks of muscle give their pecs a good workout.

  Finally, dream over, cleaning done, Heather decided she would get that cup of tea if nothing else. So she opened the door and crept across the creaky old landing to the stairs. She could relax slightly on the ground floor, where her movements were less likely to wake her drunken heroes, though they were more likely to be just hungover by now.

  Heather knew where the kitchen was from her visit last night, and she knew where the living room was only from the fact Seb had dragged the other one in. Damn, what was his name? Heather wondered. A quite unusual one, really. Oh, like I can comment, she thought. At least he has a name! She at least knew her way around the large kitchen, which fortunately was clean. A cup of tea was easy to make. She found everything she needed easily, and enough munchies to count as breakfast, then she started cleaning again.

  It wasn't that she thought the room was dirty. It had certainly been cleaned in the past two months or so, but there were areas that had been missed, quite big areas. The large dining table filling the open space had been wiped clean, but the chairs around it had been neglected. The vast work surface of the large kitchen had been wiped, but no one had bothered lifting anything living on the smooth granite top. She rectified all of that, humming contentedly as she did so.

  It wasn’t long before she heard the creaking of the stairs as someone walked down them. It was Roken, woken early by her vigorous cleaning right below his bedroom. He fell into his chair at the dining table and dropped his head into his hand wondering why the morning sun was always so bright.

  “Suffering, are we?” Heather called cheerily, from over by the kitchen window.

  Roken lifted his head and poked his tongue out at her. Wait, who the fuck is standing in our kitchen wearing just Arlo’s shirt?

  “You don’t remember me?” she questioned. “You really were wasted!”

  Roken’s lips curled up into a sarcastic smile, but he was not amused. “Enlighten me. Who are you?” Roken sighed. God, my head hurts.

  “Funny question, but I don’t remember. I do, however, remember the perfect cure for a hangover.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “A blow job,” she laughed, ignoring his question. Roken didn’t see the funny side. She smelled of both Arlo and Oscar. Whatever was going on, he was wise to steer clear of it, no matter how tempting she looked.

  “Just strong black coffee,” Roken declined, his tone assuming she would make him the coffee.

  As a stranger in his house, it wasn't really her place to wait on him, but she'd made so much banging from her room below him upstairs, he didn't feel so bad asking, and she seemed happy to provide. Without him, she would still be cold and lost in the gutter… “Heather!” He recalled.

  “It’s all coming back to you now,” she said, smiling and placing a black coffee in front of him in Seb’s mug.

  “Some,” he shrugged. “I don’t remember getting in the house or going to bed.”

  “So, what are you? Shifter? Vampire? No, not a vampire, you look more like a shifter, right? Is it safe to get that wasted?”

  His eyes met hers as she slipped into Arlo’s chair opposite. They were almost as bloodshot as his were, but for very different reasons. Who—or what—ever she might be, she knew what a shifter was and understood the potential dangers of him exposing himself. Heather was not just a normal human with memory loss.

  “What do you know about shifters?” Roken inquired, testing her memory.

  “They’re people that can change into animals and back again, whenever they want.” She smiled at him, guessing his motives to test her. “You wonder how I know that but don’t know anything about me.”

  “I wonder how much you know about the darkling world. It could help us work out what species you are, and if we know what you are, we can find out who you are.”

  “I know you and Arlo are shifters, and Oscar and Seb are vampires. And I knew that without anyone telling or showing me. I just don't know how.” That hunger was back, the one food couldn’t satisfy. It was warming her belly, blazing like a fire deep inside her.

  Roken nodded. While that was certainly how they had started, it was not how they were now. And she didn’t need to know everything about their long lives just yet.

  “Are you interested in my hangover cure?” Heather grinned a toothy grin, aiming for a seductive smile, his startled expression showed her epic fail. “Unless you’re gay?” For a horrified moment she thought she’d made a huge faux pas, offended him, and made a huge fool of herself.

  “Me?” he asked, brows raised in surprise at her comment.

  “You keep your eyes on my face, and you haven’t checked out my breasts, or my legs.”

  “You’re wearing a baggy shirt which reeks of Arlo, who, incidentally, has already claimed you.” Roken shrugged. “Wolves aren’t well known for th
eir sharing.” Heather was already walking around the table towards him as he spoke. “And I’m just a tad hungover.”

  Roken inhaled her scent. She was sexy, and her pheromones were very enticing. She smelt of Arlo, and Oscar, coffee, heather and jasmine. She had bathed recently in their bath. She had slept in their spare bed. Roken liked scents, a mixed multitude of scents made him feel hazy. When he added alcohol, it became ecstasy but drained him quickly. Somehow, he was feeling drunk again. The scents were overwhelming him, and his eyes lost their focus on the alluring woman before him.

  “Say no if you don’t want it,” Heather’s voice cut through his haze like a black line in a technicolour of smells. He felt her hand slip in the front of his pyjama trousers, her fingers trailing down the shaft of his hardening cock. She was so close, her pheromones seemed to engulf him, tormenting him with longing. He wanted her more than anything else. Her hand clenched, gripping him tightly as she travelled up and down the length of his stiffening cock.

  Roken closed his eyes, surrendering himself to her touch, to her scent. Her mouth was warm as honey as her lips kissed his body, working her way slowly down his abdomen to his erection. She kissed him all the way to the tip, spurred on by his moans. Then her lips surrounded the tip and she slid her way down his shaft, taking his generous cock into her warm moist mouth. Roken groaned, teetering on the brink of ecstasy.

  She held him there, her mouth sliding up and down his shaft, sucking and licking, then her hand slid beneath to cup his balls. She found nothing. Her fingers searched for his missing testicles, tickling the small scar that replaced them. His leg jolted automatically to her fingers’ touch, and his body tipped over the edge. The release of endorphins into his body was draining as he panted and cursed. As her head withdrew from his body, his eyes rolled, and he collapsed off the chair.