“Of course I’m not,” Valen retorted. He wanted to be the one touching Briar, eliciting sounds like the one he’d heard before he sprinted out of the house. “Of course I’m not,” he repeated barely above a whisper.
Sylvain stopped and shoved his hands in his pockets. For a long time, Valen sensed his brother’s gaze on him, but he stared at the ground. He couldn’t meet his eyes yet—didn’t want Sylvain too see just how hard it was for him to hear Hudson with Briar.
“I wouldn’t change it, you know,” Sylvain said quietly. “Sharing someone between us. It works for me. I can’t explain why, maybe it’s sick and twisted, but I don’t care. Knowing that whoever I’m with will be just as cared for by you, or Marcus or Hudson. It makes me less anxious. I can’t fail someone when you’re there to fix whatever I break.”
“You don’t break people, Sylvain,” he said, peering at his brother. Sylvain’s dark eyes met his, and he raised his scarred eyebrow.
“Don’t I, Valen? I failed my wife and child when I was a man, I failed Annie, I failed my brothers. I let down everyone I care about.” Sylvain dared him to disagree, but Valen couldn’t let the statements stand.
“You made mistakes, but Juliette and Jacque’s deaths weren’t on you. They were on Asher. And we all hold equal blame for Annie. We loved her, but we were thoughtless. We won’t be that way with Briar.” He was certain of it. They’d never make the same mistakes they made with Briar. The woman they’d met long ago and fallen in love with was nothing like the woman they cared for now. Annie was soft to Briar’s will of steel, quiet to Briar’s kind honesty. Annie kept too much inside, and as a result, Valen and his brothers had taken the woman’s humanity, thinking she’d choose to remain with them for eternity.
They should have asked permission. If they had, Annie would never have walked into the sunlight and ended her immortal life and his brothers would never have scattered to the ends of the earth.
“Do you ever wonder,” Valen mused, “if Annie had lived, would we have remained a family?”
“I often wonder if Annie lived, would we have remained with Annie,” Sylvain replied and then ducked his head as if ashamed. “Fuck.”
But Valen only nodded. Sylvain shook out his leg, reminding him of a dog, and started off down the street.
“What are you two doing out so early?” a gravelly voice asked. “Is Hudson alone with Briar?” Marcus emerged from a side street. His green eyes looked dull and tired. As he got closer, Valen caught the scent of dried blood and dirt.
“What happened?” Valen asked, ignoring Marcus’s question. His brother’s coat was torn at the sleeve. He smelled horrible—like pain and metal, and something else. Asher.
Sylvain lowered his head, sniffing like a wolf on the hunt. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Marcus answered, tiredly. “He was gone when I woke up.”
Only a sorely injured vampire would sleep. Marcus’s body would have shut down to repair itself, leaving him vulnerable. The knowledge struck fear into Valen. They’d nearly lost Marcus tonight, and none of them had known. He would have died out there, somewhere in the city, alone.
Sylvain was barely human when he spoke. “Where did you wake up?”
“I want you to kill him,” Marcus answered, each word more exhausted than the last. “But I need you to help me home. I don’t know if I can make it another step.”
Valen and Sylvain exchanged a loaded glance. Bring Marcus back to the house they’d just escaped in order to give Briar and Hudson privacy?
He sighed. “Let’s go.” He wrapped an arm around Marcus’s shoulders, catching his breath at the fresh scent of pain. “What did he do to you?”
“It wasn’t him,” Marcus said. “It was the fucking soldiers. Stupid. I should have been watching for them.”
“I can smell him,” Sylvain retorted.
“Oh, the fucker was there,” Marcus agreed. “But I think I could have taken him. It was the soldiers who got the jump on me.”
“And Hudson thought you and I needed more training,” Sylvain said, appearing on Marcus’s other side.
Their brother winced but chuckled. Valen knew Sylvain was trying to distract Marcus from his injuries. The pain must have been excruciating, because it filled the air with wave after fresh wave.
“I owe Briar an apology,” Marcus said as the house came into sight.
“I think the last thing on her mind is your apology,” Sylvain muttered.
Valen reached over Marcus to slap his brother upside the head. “Sylvain.”
Marcus glanced over at Valen but stopped mid-motion. “Shit.”
Valen wanted to see what Asher had done, but another part of him feared it. They were in it now—war. Asher had made the first move, forcing them to attack Briar, and now he’d made another one.
He didn’t like this. He didn’t like reacting instead of attacking. They needed to go after their maker and end him.
Sylvain was first up the stone stairs and pounded on the door with his fist before opening it and yelling, “Hudson! Marcus was hurt!”
Upstairs, Valen could hear sheets and clothing rustling. Someone tripped—from the quiet oath, Hudson—while Briar whispered worriedly.
Then Hudson was there, sweeping down the steps and smelling like Briar and sex. His fangs descended, and he growled. He hadn’t meant to, but the scents were overwhelming him. The monster wanted a taste of her, wanted to revel in her.
He was angry and jealous he didn’t get to. Not yet. Valen tried to soothe him. Soon.
“He bit you,” Hudson said, tearing Marcus’s jacket down his shoulders and then ripping the shirt at the seams.
Softer footfalls sounded from the hallway, and then Briar’s worried cry echoed through the living room. “Marcus! Oh no!”
His brother’s skin was raked with claw marks, some of them healing, most of them still red and in places, sluggishly oozing blood.
And his neck…Asher always was a ripper. Long gouges tore across Marcus’s throat on either side of his neck. One set was healed, red slashes bright against his light brown skin, but the other side was still open. No wonder he’d smelled so strongly of pain. His body must have been working overtime to heal those injuries. It should have killed him.
Hudson breathed in and lowered his face to Marcus’s neck. “You need more blood to heal.”
“I have some in my room,” Marcus answered. “Mini-fridge next to my bed.”
“Got it,” Sylvain said without anyone having to ask him. He dashed upstairs and was back in a flash. Briar stood near the edge of the couch, worried stare fixed on Marcus. She held her hands in front of her, fingers laced. Sylvain shuffled by her and tossed the bag to Hudson.
Marcus glanced once at Briar, turning his shoulders as if to hide from her. Valen saw the moment Briar understood what he’d done. Her face paled, and her shoulders drooped. “Do you want me to leave?” she asked.
No. The answer was simple. All Marcus had to do was say it, but instead, the idiot nodded his head.
Without another word, Briar left, climbing the stairs to her room. The scent of winter and ice was strong, but so was her sadness.
None of them chided Marcus though. For some reason, he was hiding his nature from her. Valen wanted to shake him and tell him there was no need. Briar saw them. Each time she looked at them and her face softened, eyes lighting up with happiness, it was clear as day she accepted them.
All of them.
Marcus held the empty blood bag in limp hands. Slowly, the scent of pain abated. His shoulders relaxed minutely, and the wounds on his neck began to stitch together.
“You drank from him,” Hudson stated baldly, and Valen narrowed his eyes.
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Marcus said. He shifted the bag to one hand and ran his fingers over his neck. “I was nearly unconscious.”
“How do you feel?” Valen asked.
“You mean do I feel like he’s in my head, controlling my every move?” Marcus
replied. “No. It doesn’t feel like he’s there, but what do I know? I didn’t think he was there last time, either.”
Hudson sighed. “Why don’t you go take a shower? You’re covered in blood.”
“Better yet,” Sylvain interrupted. “Why don’t you apologize to Briar. That’s twice in one day you hurt her.”
As if her name had conjured her, Briar appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “I have to go to class,” she said, not meeting their eyes. Her voice was strong though, and she’d forced her shoulders back. She had on her hat and gloves and held her overlarge sunglasses in her hand. “Whose day is it?”
“Mine,” Sylvain answered. He jumped up and went to her. He touched her cheek before peeling the backpack off her back to sling over his shoulder. “I go today. It’s Thursday. Art history.”
Briar gave him a crooked smile and seemed to relax. “Okay. Thank you.”
She raised her eyebrows and turned to the living room. Valen smiled at her, proud that as uncomfortable as Marcus had made her, she’d come back and stood her ground. Her gaze twitched toward Valen’s brother, but Marcus still kept his gaze on the floor. He noticed, however, that Marcus had moved the now-empty bag behind his back.
“Do you need anything while I’m out?” she asked, and Valen shook his head.
“No,” Hudson answered. “I’ll meet you at the lab later?”
“Not today,” Briar answered. “If that’s all right. I want to come home after class, do some homework and spend some time with you all.” Even though Marcus wasn’t looking at her, she glanced at him. “All of you.”
“Okay,” Hudson replied.
Valen strode toward her, wrapping the scarf she was wearing into a knot so it wouldn’t fly away in the Boston wind. “See you later,” he whispered and kissed her cheek. She’d showered, and now she smelled like the lavender from her soap and the sea. He could breathe her in forever.
“Be safe,” Hudson said from next to Marcus.
“I will,” she replied. “Sylvain is Mr. Safety.”
“That’s me,” Sylvain answered dryly.
“What about you, Marcus?” Briar answered after a second’s pause. It was clear he wasn’t going to say anything, but she wasn’t going to ignore him. “Do you need anything while I’m out?”
Marcus shook his head, peering at her before glancing back at the floor. “No.”
Briar sighed so quietly someone without vampiric hearing would have missed it. “Okay. If you change your mind, you have my number.” She started to the door, but stopped. Throwing back her shoulders, she spun on her heel and marched to Marcus. He looked up in surprise when she came to a stop in front of him, and she took his face between her hands before leaning down and kissing him lightly on the lips. “Feel better, beau.”
A smile cracked Marcus’s serious face before it disappeared and he nodded. “I will,” he answered.
Briar’s smile was brittle. She leaned over once again and kissed him. Sylvain waited patiently, reaching for her hand when she returned. They left, the door clicking shut behind them.
“I’m going upstairs,” Marcus said as soon as their footsteps had receded.
“I’ll check on you,” Hudson said.
“I’ll be fine,” Marcus replied, disappearing up the stairs.
“I’ll be up anyway,” Hudson called, right before Marcus’s door shut. “Shit,” he said under his breath and glanced at Valen. “Any ideas what to do about that?”
“Kill Asher,” Valen answered. It was the answer to all their problems.
“Yeah,” Hudson replied and stared at the wall like it had all the answers. “I’ll just do that.”
Marcus had left his torn clothes on the floor, and Valen bent over to pick them up. They were ruined, and even if he washed them, he’d never be able to get the stink of pain and Asher out of the material. Balling the fabric in his hands, he strode into the kitchen and shoved them into the garbage. Hudson trailed behind him.
“Do you need to talk?” Valen asked, heading to the sink to wash his hands.
“Do you?” Hudson replied. It took Valen a moment to understand what Hudson was asking.
“No.” Hudson didn’t owe him any explanation. Or apology. “No. We’re good. I’m happy for you. Jealous as all hell, but happy.”
“She’s a virgin,” Hudson said, and Valen dropped the towel he’d been drying his hands with. He’d suspected as much about Briar. All of them had. It was why they moved so slowly.
That and they had years to become intimate with Briar. Years to win her over. It wasn’t like it was when he was human and people had twenty years, maybe, with the person they loved. In twenty years, Briar would still be relatively young. Their future stretched in front of them. Valen wanted to savor it.
But he also wanted to touch her.
God help him, he wanted to touch her.
“So you didn’t have sex,” Valen stated.
“No,” Hudson answered. “I’m not ready for that. I haven’t told her I love her. This time, I’m going to be more up front. Honest.”
They’d moved too fast with Annie. That’s what Hudson was implying. “You think she loves us?”
Hudson smiled, his eyes getting dreamy. Damn. He was ready to experience whatever it was that gave Hudson that look.
“I know she does,” he answered. “She didn’t say it, not in so many words, but her actions scream it. And tonight, she wouldn’t let me hide when the beast tried to appear. She wanted to see me. All of me, Valen. No one has ever wanted to see all of me.”
“You mean Annie,” Valen said. Poor Annie. Was their memory of her accurate, or was it tainted by how much time had passed? It wasn’t fair to compare Briar, who had a century of women’s rights at her back, to Annie. Annie had been a product of her time, just as they had been products of theirs. If they’d changed, it was only because they had the immortality to do so.
“I suppose I do. Looking back, I feel like I tried to show Annie who I was and she rejected me.” Hudson pulled out one of the dining room chairs and sat in it. He stared at his hands and drew them into his lap.
“She didn’t,” Valen answered. “She rejected being a vampire because we didn’t give her any warning. We swept her off her feet, this little country girl who’d never had the attention of any man, let alone four who had centuries of experience, and we shoved her, head first, into our world.”
“If she’d really loved us…” Hudson trailed off.
An angry heat rose in Valen’s chest. “Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t minimize what she felt for us. You weren’t in her head. You don’t know.” With each pronouncement, his voice rose. He had good memories of Annie. Happy memories.
“I’m sorry.” Hudson raked his hand through his hair and leaned back. “Maybe it was my problem. I haven’t let myself think about her… and now with Briar, sometimes it feels like I can’t stop thinking about Annie. I’m so afraid of making the same mistakes.”
“Briar would tell us,” Valen answered confidently. “No doubt. Did you see the way she was with Marcus?”
“Yes.” Hudson stood and opened one of the window shades in the kitchen. Bright sunlight spilled through the glass onto the table. It was a beautiful day outside. The sky was clear blue, and the bare trees stood dark against the sky. “I think she’s giving him the morning to get his head on straight.”
Valen nodded in agreement. He expected she would. Above their heads, Marcus’s footsteps padded across the floor and back again.
“We need to talk to him,” Hudson said. “He’s seen Asher twice now. There has to be a reason for that.”
It was a good point. Asher didn’t do anything thoughtlessly. If he had approached Marcus, and only Marcus, then they needed to figure out why.
“You need to shower before we go in there,” Valen said. “It’s one thing for us to suspect you’ve been with Briar, but it’s driving me mad, smelling her on you.”
Hudson gave a cocky smile and pushed back from the table. �
�Sorry.” He winked. “Not sorry.”
Chapter Eleven
Marcus
The worse Marcus felt about his behavior, the more he felt helpless to change it. He was being an asshole. He could feel it, could hear the words, see what Briar saw, but for the life of him, he could not dig himself out of this hole he found himself in.
It was worse when he smelled her. The scent of wildflowers, on a good day, tempting, was mouthwatering when she’d emerged from the second floor with Hudson.
Unlike Sylvain, who looked a little green when he smelled them, Marcus was happy for Hudson. It was another sign his brother was coming back to life.
Any other time, Marcus would have made a joke. But he couldn’t today. Nothing was funny. Maybe he should have been laughing. After all, he’d survived an encounter with his maker and came out—undead.
Marcus snorted and shook his head. Maybe things were a little funny.
Sylvain had taken Briar to school, and now he had all day to anticipate the conversation she’d promised. He felt like a scolded child, waiting for his parent to get home to receive his punishment.
Briar wouldn’t punish him, but she’d be sad. He’d probably make her sad again, and then he’d feel even worse.
So stop!
Why was he acting like this?
Guilt.
His vampire was full of helpful tidbits today, probably because he’d seen his eternal life flash before his eyes when Asher ripped his fangs across Marcus’s throat.
He’d almost had the bastard. Almost.
If he hadn’t let himself be so single-mindedly focused on Asher, he could have seen the soldiers coming. And maybe if he’d seen them, he could have acted faster. He’d lost the chance to kill his maker.
Marcus paced the length of his bedroom, past his sleigh bed and the heavy, walnut bureau and end tables he’d spent so much time picking out. It was stupid to have a bed when he didn’t sleep. He could have used this space for something useful, like a library, or a lab, or—he didn’t know—a gaming room.
Pausing, he considered the room. What he had been so careful choosing now seemed pretentious. Since Briar had come into his life, Marcus had begun to feel like a better version of himself—stronger. Smarter.
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