She thought about them fighting about who got time with her as she stepped into the shower and filled her hand with shampoo.
God, she loved them.
All her thoughts came to a screeching halt. There was that word again. It came easier, and more often, in her thoughts now, but she kept it quiet. She wasn’t sure how the guys would react.
They hadn’t had much time together, in the grand scheme of immortality, and maybe what they felt for her was a combination of curiosity and guilt.
Stop it. It wasn’t that. Briar shut the voice up quickly. Maybe the guys had started out feeling curious about her, but she knew it was deeper now. Even if all they felt for her was friendship with a smattering of attraction, she wouldn’t minimize it. These guys could have anyone, anyone, and they liked her.
They laughed at her jokes, cared about her safety and happiness, and kindled something inside her she’d never felt before—a tingling warmth that started in her belly until her entire body was overheated.
Briar adjusted the temperature of the water and stuck her head beneath the spray. She already felt a little off, and the temperature wasn’t helping. Argh! She scrubbed her hair a little too hard and sucked in a sharp breath when she zinged her neck again.
Maybe she needed to make a move. She’d been affectionate, but perhaps she hadn’t been obvious enough… Should she lay all her cards on the table?
And say what? I like you…and you…and you…and you. Not just a little—I like you a lot.
Briar groaned and adjusted the heat again, cooling the water before giving up and scrubbing quickly. Her towel was just outside the tub, and she reached for it, but someone draped it over her grasping hand.
“There you go,” Sylvain said.
She yelped and pulled the towel back inside to wrap around her body. “What are you doing in here? I thought you were plotting.”
“We were. Then you snuck off. Point of fact. You are not stealthy.” His voice echoed off the tiled walls.
Briar snorted and tucked the towel around her before stepping out. “I didn’t sneak.” As her foot hit the shaggy rug, she pushed the wet strands of hair out of her face to meet Sylvain’s gaze.
But he wasn’t looking at her eyes.
His gaze was hungry. It started at her feet and dragged up her body like a physical thing. Everywhere he paused, goosebumps erupted on her skin until she gave a full body shiver. Finally, he met her gaze. It was almost too much for her to hold. The pupils in his eyes were wide, turning the golden brown color to black. He sucked in a breath, and then, as if he was a fish and she held the line, he rushed to her.
One hand threaded through the hair at the back of her head, holding her still, while his arm wrapped around her back, tugging her against his body and holding her there.
“Don’t move,” he said, shutting his eyes tight.
She knew why he asked her to do that; he didn’t trust himself—didn’t trust the monster inside him not to bite.
But she trusted him.
She released her hold on the towel and pulled her arms between them, resting her palms lightly on his chest. In no way did she want to push him away. He needed to feel her—she was steady, confident.
Briar stood on her tiptoes, grateful for the rug beneath her feet that kept her from slipping. The tip of her nose grazed his chin, and then his lips, before they were mouth to mouth.
Beneath her hand, his heart thudded steadily, rapidly for him. Its pace nearly matched hers, a sign he was as affected as her.
Remaining still, she gave him time, broadcasting her intentions, before she leaned into him. He wanted her, like she wanted him, and it gave her the courage to do what she’d been hoping.
She kissed him.
He startled, even though he must have known it was coming, and then moaned. The sound went through Briar’s body, and without another thought, she leaned into him.
Instinct took over from there.
Sylvain’s hand tightened in her hair, almost to the point of pain as he angled her face the way he wanted. He ravaged her mouth, pushing past her lips to taste her. All of the power he’d been holding back was released, and she loved it. Dragging her hands to his shoulders, she dug her fingers in. His muscle was hard, and he didn’t flinch as she held him tighter.
The air left her body, and he sucked it into his, taking everything. She was happy to give it. Her head felt heavy, as if it was too much for her neck, and she relaxed into his hold. Only he held her up.
His lips left hers and nipped her neck. Angling her head to give him better access, she gave him her throat. Take it. In that moment, she wanted to give Sylvain everything. Her body, her blood, everything.
His teeth grazed her skin, sharp and smooth, before he ripped himself away from her. Cool air rushed between them, and she nearly fell to her knees without his strength to hold her up.
“Don’t do that,” Sylvain said, voice distorted by his fangs. “Ever again. I nearly bit you, Briar.” He was quiet, but his eyes… It broke Briar’s heart. Disappointment etched every line on his face. Not in her. He was disappointed in himself. As if he’d been tested and failed.
“I wanted you to,” she whispered. How could she erase the pain in his eyes? “Sylvain. I don’t understand it, but I wanted you to.”
Slowly, he shook his head, shutting his eyes to keep her from seeing him. No. She strode to him and cupped his face between her hands. He grasped her quickly, strong hands wrapped around her wrists. He kept his eyes closed so she repeated herself. “Sylvain, I wanted you to.”
“You don’t understand,” he replied. It sounded as if he’d swallowed glass. Each word was effortful. “I might not stop, Briar. It’s been years since I’ve tasted a human, and if I tasted you…”
Tasted. It echoed in Briar’s mind, and her cheeks heated with the rush of blood to her face. The word conjured images of Sylvain at her throat, his huge body covering hers.
“Would you not be able to stop?” she asked huskily.
Sylvain stepped back once before he crowded her. Unintentionally, she retreated until her back touched the wall. He loomed over her, but rather than scare her, she felt as if his body stood between her and the rest of the world. He was a guardian, her protector. Tilting her head back to look at him, she became entranced by his throat. She studied him closely, wondering if the scars of his transition from human to vampire would still be evident on his body. Lifting two fingers, she touched him. His eyes shut, and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
“I wondered,” she began, “if you had scars, too.”
He caught her hand in his, curling his fingers around hers before dragging them to the other side of his neck and pressing her fingers against a spot. Then, slowly, he released her hand, his own dropping to his side.
There, so light they were nearly invisible, were two long scars below his ear.
“Asher liked to tear when he fed,” Sylvain explained, and Briar followed the path of each scar. They were about the length of her finger, but the skin was slightly raised.
“They would have killed you,” she said. Beneath the skin, his pulse thudded rhythmically.
“Yes,” Sylvain said. “I had no choice. But I thought I would die. I embraced it. I wanted it.” His voice caused vibrations beneath her hand.
“Why?” she asked. “Because it hurt?”
He shook his head and took her hand again. This time, however, he looked past her, as if whatever it was, he couldn’t bear to say while she was watching him. “No. Because I’d lost everything, and it was the closest I’d come to getting it back.” Sylvain glanced at her quickly before dropping her hand and striding toward the door. “I’ll be back as soon as you’re dressed.”
“Sylvain!” she called, hurrying after him, but he’d slid past the door and closed it behind him before she could reach him. “Darn it.” Briar stomped her foot and crossed her arms. Just when she thought he was going to confide in
her, he ran away.
She’d come close, so close, to seeing inside of him, but he didn’t want to share.
He doesn’t want you. Briar shook her head to dislodge the insidious voice. This wasn’t like her to be so melancholy and full of self-doubt. Rather than view their interaction as one that had been shut down, instead, she should be thinking about what he’d revealed. He’d given her something—very little something, but there it was—and it was up to her to learn more. She could do that. She was a scientist for crying out loud. Research and discovery was her jam. Briar tugged a t-shirt over her head, struggling to get the now-wet material in place.
Chilly, she hurried to the bed and snuggled under the covers. Briar kept one ear trained on the door. Someone would join her soon, like they did every night. If it was Sylvain, she’d ask him to lay next to her. She wanted to rest her head on his chest and feel his heartbeat. His story would be dark. She could sense the sadness beneath his anger.
With the questions about Sylvain’s human in her mind, Briar’s eyes closed.
✽✽✽
“There you are. We have to stop meeting like this,” Asher said, leaning against the trunk of a huge tree.
“So stop bringing me here,” Briar replied. She’d closed her eyes and awoken here, alongside the same battle Asher had shown her the last time she’d fallen asleep. It was the same place, but the battle had ended. Now, bodies lay in heaps, dragged to piles by soldiers with pale skin and sharp fangs. Immediately she scanned the area for the guys, searching among the soldiers and bodies for their familiar forms.
She found Valen, bodies over each shoulder, striding toward a bonfire. As soon as she recognized what burned, the smell of death and charred flesh assaulted her. Gagging, she covered her nose and mouth with her hand.
“Nice trick, is it not?” Asher said. “You have the thought, projected in big bold letters so I can hear it in that increasingly irritating accent, and make it so.” He waved his arm, and suddenly the world was awash in sound and smell. Briar could feel the flames on her face and the ash on her tongue. She gagged and turned away from the chaos only to come face-to-face with a horse.
With a squeal, she jumped back just as the horse reared, its iron-clad hooves inches from her face.
“Father,” an unconcerned voice said, “I did not realize you allowed anyone to live.”
The horse landed with a thud in the muck, skittering away from Asher who came to stand next to her. He patted the horse’s flank and chuckled. “I haven’t.”
Briar’s confusion overwhelmed her. This was a dream state, wasn’t it? How then, was Asher interacting with the people here? How did they interact with them?
“You’re thinking too hard, my dear,” Asher said. The corner of his lips creased his golden skin, and he flicked his long hair over his shoulder.
A form slid from the horse to stand in front of her. Hudson. He stared down at her, eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen you before,” he said. It was the voice—the same beautiful voice—but with none of the warmth it usually held for her. This was Hudson the general—cool, distant. She was a bug to be squashed beneath his boot. His nostrils flared as he breathed in, and his eyes widened. He took a step toward her, as if drawn by an invisible string. “Who are you?”
“Briar,” she answered at the same time Asher stated, “No one.”
Hudson glanced between them, an eyebrow raised.
Myriad questions ran through Briar’s mind as she studied Hudson. What year was it? Where were they? How close were the brothers to leaving Asher? Had the vampire brought her back in time? If so, how had he done this?
Asher snapped his fingers in front of her face, and at once, the scene froze. Hudson’s blue eyes remained staring at her, but he didn’t move. He didn’t blink. A moment later, Asher stepped in front of him to stare at Briar in annoyance.
“What fun would it be if you could not interact with my sons?” Asher asked. “To see their reaction to you. I can tell, they would have been drawn to you at any time, but I wonder. If given a choice between you both…” He smiled, fangs white and sharp. “I wonder if given the choice between you, and their wife, if they’d have chosen you.”
Wifewifewife. The word repeated over and over in Briar’s head. Wife. They had a wife?
“Oh yes,” Asher whispered. He glanced over his shoulder at Hudson. “They had a wife. A lovely woman. So beautiful. So kind. All four of them fell in love with her almost instantly. Bedded and turned her within a month. She gave Sylvain the will to live. Gave Hudson his heart. Valen, his brain. No, wait. That’s a different story.” He tapped his finger on his lips, pretending to think and then shrugged. “Never mind. Yes. Annie. Like I said, she was a lovely woman. I don’t envy you the task ahead of you.”
Briar touched her neck, the remembered feel of Sylvain’s lips against her skin was like a brand.
“You think so loudly, Briar. It gives me a headache. I really thought you’d be a challenge. This place, this beautiful scene, is drawn from not only my memories, but the memories of my sons.” He pointed to Valen, a body half on his body, half in the air where he’d launched it toward the fire. “The smell? That’s Valen’s memories. The sounds of dying? The screams of horses? Sylvain remembered that. All of these delightful details are brought to you by my sons. Even I could not remember the way the sky lightened over the horizon before we retreated back into darkness.” Indeed, the early rays of light had peeked over a mountain. A band of red that slashed the sky like a wound. “Marcus always did have an artistic soul.”
The scene shifted, a waft of smoke blowing across her face. Hudson blinked, and narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” he asked again.
If these were their memories, was it possible that Asher was in the guys’ heads right now? Without giving herself time to doubt her actions, she dashed around Asher and gripped Hudson’s arms tight. “I’m Briar. Help me, Hudson. Please.”
“Stupid girl!” Asher gripped her neck and tore her away from Hudson. He extended his arm, flinging her backward until she hit something hard and cold. It knocked the breath out of her lungs. With every ounce of willpower she had, she urged herself to wake up. Asher followed her to the ground, his cool hands tight around her throat. She had to lift herself as he pulled, or he was liable to take her head off her neck.
He tightened his grip, just once, because of course he heard her thoughts.
Wake up!
His fangs would be next. Already, she could feel the remembered pain of the razor sharpness gliding through her skin like a hot knife through butter.
Be strong! Wake up!
“Father!”
Black dots collected at the edge of her vision, but she saw Hudson stride toward Asher, right before he would have bitten her. And then, mercifully, something yanked her from her nightmare.
Chapter Six
Marcus
Hudson dropped his pen.
It shouldn’t have created any sort of reaction within Marcus, but his brother’s already pale faced paled further.
“Hudson, what is it?” Marcus asked. Above their head, Briar slept. Sylvain and Valen were next door to her, engaged in their own strategy. Her heartbeat was steady, and her breathing, though rapid, regular. Assured of her presence and health, he could focus again on Hudson. “What’s the problem?” he asked again.
“I don’t know,” Hudson answered. “It’s like…” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and shook his head. “There’s something hovering around the edges of my mind all of a sudden. Something I need to do. To remember.”
“Something to do with Briar?” Marcus asked.
Hudson dropped his hands, and stared at the ceiling. “Yes.” His voice was thick, his upper lip suddenly swelling as his fangs descended. “Fuck.” The word was garbled. He crouched low, skin drawing tight over the bones of his face. He was ready for battle.
“Fuck,” Marcus repeated, leaping in front of him when Hudson lunged for the door. They hit the solid wood, crashin
g through it into the hallway.
“I have to help her,” Hudson said. “Get out of my way!”
The monster, amazingly, was under control. Immediately, Marcus let his brother up and took off after Hudson as he bolted for the stairs.
“Sylvain!” Marcus yelled. “Valen!” They were closer than he and Hudson and could get to her faster.
The alarm in his voice was enough to send Valen and Sylvain hurrying from their room and into Briar’s. He and Hudson arrived in time to see them lift Briar from the bed, crouch over her and survey the room for danger.
Marcus listened. He breathed in deeply, but he could smell nothing off.
Except…
“Fear.” Sylvain growled. “It is her fear.”
“Briar.” Valen shook her, but her head lolled between her shoulders.
“I told you,” Sylvain ripped her from Valen’s arm, retreating to the corner of the room where he slid down the wall, cradling her in his arms. “I told you, motherfuckers. I told you…” His voice trailed off as he turned his focus to Briar. Marcus wanted her in his arms and started toward him, but Sylvain hissed warningly.
“What is going on?” Valen asked. He stood next to the window, muscles bunched, ready to leap and fight at the first sign.
Hudson shook his head. “Can’t. Speak.” The monster was riding him hard. He paced the floor, eyes on Briar and then the windows, the door, as Sylvain worked over her. As a doctor, Hudson was best suited to help her, but he was keeping himself away from her. Whatever it was that had alerted Hudson to her state, it made him walk the line.
Marcus edged closer to Sylvain. He was the next best thing to a medical doctor; he needed to help her. “Sylvain,” he began.
Sylvain flashed him a narrowed-eyed glare before turning his attention back to Briar. “Come on, blossom. Wake up. You’re safe. We’re here.”
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