“We’ve got an eternity to answer them.” Marcus winced. Briar reached for him, took his hand and squeezed it.
“No use ignoring the immortal elephant in the room.” She brought his hand to her face to touch her lips to his skin. “I’m a vampire.”
Valen
I’m a vampire. Briar said it so matter-of-factly, but for Valen, it was not matter of fact. It was a miracle.
She was here. Whole and unscarred. And for that, he was so grateful.
But Valen was also a realist, and Briar’s life was changed irrevocably. Guilt swamped him as he contemplated his failure to keep her safe. She’d still be human if he’d been faster. Stronger.
But she’d be dead. The guilt was replaced with relief. Oh, the guilt was still there, but much less when her emotions flashed across her face.
He needed her in his arms. One stride across the floor and he had her. He wrapped her up, lifted her off the ground, and buried his face in her neck.
She smelled the same. Ice. Winter. The sea. “Little one.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. “I thought you’d left me forever.”
Briar held onto him, her arms strong. His little one, this slip of a woman, had a vampire’s strength in her slight body. Her soft hair tickled his face, and he swept it toward her neck, cupping his huge hand around it. “This is real,” he said and squeezed tighter.
“It’s real,” she replied. Her accent was thicker, as it became when she was overwhelmed. “And I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
She went straight to the heart of his biggest fear.
“Forgive me.” Valen kissed her skin, gently skimming his lips over her neck. The skin was still raised from the burn she’d suffered. And, as crazy as it was, he was grateful for it. Every second that ticked by reassured him of her realness. She wasn’t human, but she was still Briar. Still theirs.
“There is nothing to forgive, Valen,” she said and pulled back slightly. “Do you forgive me?”
Did he forgive her for sacrificing herself for them? For all his long life, he would never forget the day he’d thought her dead. The pain had been unimaginable and inescapable.
She’d damned them to a life without her.
“I will,” he said. “But you have to promise me, never again. You never put yourself in danger again.”
“I promise.” The words rolled off her tongue. In his arms, she trembled.
“Valen?” Sylvain touched his shoulder, and without saying a word, Valen knew what he needed—Briar. It wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be to release her to Sylvain.
Valen kept a hand on her back. It would likely be a long time before he could let her out of his sight. Sylvain tucked her head against his chest and breathed her in just like Valen had. Then it was Hudson’s turn, and Marcus’s.
Briar returned to him when Marcus released her, and he folded his arms around her. She stood, back to his chest, resting against him. Gently, Valen swayed while his brothers stared at her.
“So,” Briar started. Her voice reverberated against Valen’s chest, and he shivered. His beast was amped up and each move Briar made had him on edge. Not in a bad way. But in a way that was making it more difficult for him to ignore the desire coursing through his body.
Long ago, when Valen was a sword man, he returned from battle as primed as he was now. Needing to reaffirm his existence, he’d tumbled into bed with women.
He faced a similar struggle now. With every ounce of his being, he wanted to carry Briar upstairs and into his bed. He wanted to cover her body with his and assure himself she was here.
Briar sucked in a breath, her body freezing like a statue, and he realized what he’d done. Unlike with Marcus, she didn’t call him out. However, his brothers’ noses worked as well as Briar’s, and even if they didn’t make a comment, their raised eyebrows and narrowed gazes told Valen they were aware of his arousal.
A waft of ocean hit his nose, and he swallowed hard. Briar’s body had responded to his. Her scent teased his nose.
There was no other choice than to try to calm.
Briar wrapped her hands around his where they met at her waist and squeezed. “Will I sleep, I wonder?” she asked.
Maybe her mind had been on a bed as well.
“I don’t know,” Hudson answered. “So far, nothing about you is typical of a vampire.”
Briar tensed even further. “What do you mean?”
“There is one central tenant to being a vampire, Briar,” Marcus said.
“Vampires drink blood.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Human blood,” Hudson qualified. “Vampires drink the blood of the living.”
“But you’re alive,” Briar argued and then shivered. “I’m alive. My heart beats. You told me long ago, a vampire is more efficient than a human.”
“I said”—Hudson leaned his hip against the island—“that a vampire has similarities to a human. Our heart beats but slower. Our body metabolizes blood—our nourishment. We sleep, but the sun dictates our rhythms.”
“And your genes are mutated. Whatever happens to you when you’re turned affects your genes.” Briar turned in Valen’s arms and smiled up at him. “Whatever it is. I’m stronger now, and I can help you fight Asher.”
Asher.
It was with no small amount of pride and restrained rage that Valen informed her, “Asher is dead.”
Briar’s eyes widened and her smile grew. “He’s dead?”
“Ash and dust.” His voice pitched low, and his fangs descended as if the beast wanted to be present at the announcement as well.
“Good.” Her voice distorted, and two pearly white fangs bit into her lower lip. Red beads of blood, like rubies, dotted her lips, and her scent filled the room. It was different. While Briar’s skin smelled the same to Valen, her blood, which he’d tasted, did not. It had changed, deepened and rounded out.
He wasn’t a wine drinker—he never had been. His people had fermented grains and left the wine making to Romans like Hudson. But if he had been, if he could appreciate the way something could develop into a delicious and mouth-watering flavor, it would be the scent of Briar’s blood.
One taste. Valen didn’t even try to stop himself. Dipping low, he swept his tongue across her lips, sipping the liquid into his mouth.
The scent hadn’t prepared him for the taste.
It burned from his tongue, down his throat, racing through his body, his veins. His heart thudded rapidly in his chest, and he had to jerk himself away from Briar, sucking in a mouthful of air. Suddenly he was ready to run across Boston. No—Massachusetts. Scratch that—New England. The thrum of energy built up in his body, priming his muscles to spring into action.
“Whoa.” Marcus gripped his shoulders and tried to twist Valen toward him. He locked his legs, and his brother grunted. “What the hell? Hudson—” Hudson appeared next to Marcus.
“Your pupils are huge.” Hudson slapped his fingers against Valen’s neck. “Jesus, Valen. Your heart is racing.”
“I feel… weird,” Valen admitted.
“It’s like he’s on drugs,” Marcus muttered and glanced toward Briar.
“Vampire blood side effect?” she asked.
“I feel like I could run back to Newfoundland,” he said and gave a little bounce. He bet he could explode out of here and be back before the sun set the next day.
“Not a vampire blood side effect,” Hudson said. “I don’t know what this is.”
Briar’s fangs had retracted and now she worried her lip with blunt teeth.
“It’s not your fault,” Valen assured her. Whatever it was in her blood hadn’t clouded his head or muddied his thinking. “I’ll be fine. This isn’t a bad feeling, whatever this is. I just have more energy than I know what to do with.”
“Then stop bouncing around like a demented bunny.” Sylvain grabbed his face between his hands and stared hard into Valen’s eyes. “You look weird. But then again,” he dropped his hands and shrugged, “you’re
always weird.”
“Shut up.” Valen pushed at Sylvain’s shoulder and the man flew across the kitchen. Along the way, he took out the dining room table, cracking the heavy wood in half before the steel fridge stopped him.
“Holy cow!” Briar cried and hurried to Sylvain who’d slid, dazed, to the floor. “Are you all right?” She knelt at his side and lifted one eyebrow to peer into his eyes. “Did you lose consciousness?” Whipping around, she asked Hudson, “Can vampires get concussions?”
“No.” Glaring at Valen, Hudson waved aside her concern. He ignored their brother, who still hadn’t gotten up. “For the first time in my exceedingly long life…” He threw his hands up. “I’m baffled.”
“Harvard!” Marcus yelled, causing Sylvain to jump and bang the top of his head on the refrigerator handle. “We should go to my lab at Harvard to examine Briar’s blood. I have all the right equipment.” He winked at Briar.
“Jesus,” Hudson murmured before allowing, “I hate to admit he’s right. Blood pathology is Marcus’s area of expertise.”
Having turned back to Sylvain, Briar merely waved her hand in the air, dismissing both Marcus and Hudson. “Later,” she said. “Sylvain, look at me.”
His dark eyed brother tracked to Briar and lifted an eyebrow.
“How do you feel?” Briar asked.
Sylvain reached out, quick as a flash. Valen caught the way Briar’s muscles bunched, as if she was ready to flee, before she locked them in place and allowed Sylvain to pull her off balance so she sprawled next to him. He buried his nose in Briar’s hair and kissed the top of her head. “I’m fine, blossom,” he said. “Only my pride is wounded. I let the blond get the best of me.”
Valen chuckled and held out his hand to help Sylvain to his feet. Ignoring him, Sylvain instead stood before helping Briar stand.
Briar brushed her hands down her pants, smoothing the material. Whatever she touched caused her to wrinkle her nose. “I need a shower,” she said and lifted her arm to her nose, breathing in. “Ugh. I stink like I don’t know what. These clothes need to be burned.”
Valen had to agree. Now that Briar mentioned it, he could smell the crawlers and soldiers. Worse, the sickly sweet scent of her pain stuck to her clothing and an image of Briar’s swollen face flashed before his eyes.
Her injuries, which had healed when she’d transitioned from human to vampire, should have left scars. Along Sylvain’s throat were a series of silver scars he’d gotten has a human, left by Asher’s teeth.
Valen studied Briar’s face and neck closer.
“What?” she asked. She followed his line of sight and touched where his gaze rested. “What is it?”
He shook his head, unwilling to voice his questions yet. Too much had happened, too much was different, and he wasn’t ready to add another question to their steadily growing pile of concerns.
“Nothing,” he answered, and cupping her neck, he pulled her close. “Nothing. You’re perfect.”
Against him, Briar laughed and shook her head. “I need to shower,” she said.
Reluctantly, Valen let her go. She squeezed him, and after a glance at each of his brothers, left the room.
Valen couldn’t be sure she was out of earshot even when he heard her tread quietly up the stairs. Briar as a vampire was a wildcard. Nothing with her was what he’d expected.
Facing his brothers, Valen sighed. They regarded each other silently, identical masks of concern, though none of them spoke.
A moment later, the water turned on. It should mask their voices, and yet, Valen remained silent.
Briar
Briar hoped the water pounding against the porcelain tub would muffle the sound of her breakdown. She wasn’t even sure if she could cry in this body.
You’re going to be okay.
She knew that! She knew, with a little time to adjust, she’d come to terms with her new life. All her life she’d had to adapt and evolve.
Angrily, she swiped away the first tears that mixed with the warm water. These weren’t sad tears—she wasn’t mourning the loss of being human—these were tears of frustration. For once in her life, she just wanted something to be easy.
And if that made her pathetic and self-pitying, then too bad. She deserved some woe-is-me time.
Briar reached for the body wash on the edge of the tub, poured it in her hand, and then scrubbed her body. The water turned pink at her feet as blood and sweat and dirt sloughed off her skin. Out of habit, she carefully began to clean her face and neck before remembering—her body had healed. Curious, she ran her fingers over her neck. The skin was puckered from her burn but no longer tender to her fingertips.
All at once, the miracle of her situation hit her. She’d walked in sunlight.
She’d walked in sunlight. Holding her hands out, she studied them. There were no new scars. There were little ones from her childhood. A larger scar, still pinkish brown, from her burn at Hudson’s lecture.
Tracing the scar, she smiled. For some reason, she was relieved to see it. For the rest of her life, your immortal life, a voice inside her added, she’d be reminded of the first time she’d laid eyes on the men she loved.
Her tears were gone now—the pit in her stomach shrinking as she considered everything she had to look forward to.
Of course, she wasn’t blind to the challenges. Her immortality would lead to her losing her family well before she should. A wave of nostalgia hit her. She needed to talk to her mom. Suddenly, Briar wanted to hear her mother’s voice more than anything.
She finished showering, shut off the water, and went into her room. Below her, Hudson, Sylvain, Marcus, and Valen puttered around. She could hear when one of them took a breath.
Or a step.
But none of them spoke.
Briar wasn’t really surprised. They’d probably gone into their heads the way she had, needing to retreat and regroup before truly facing the way things had changed.
Pulling the towel around her more snugly, she examined her room, searching for her phone. Where was the last place she’d had it? She usually had it in her backpack for school.
Holy cow. School.
School felt like a million years ago. Yet only the day before she’d been at Hudson’s lab. Yesterday, she’d awoken in Valen’s arms and died in Sylvain’s.
Briar stood stock still in the middle of her room. Nothing here had changed, but everything was different. She padded to her dresser to remove her clothes and realized—she didn’t have to cover herself from neck to wrist.
Hurriedly, she dressed and then stopped. The shades to her windows were drawn tight, leaving her with no sense of day or night.
It was okay to open them now.
As she pulled her shirt over her stomach, she walked to the window. The curtains were heavy and tightly woven to keep out any shaft of sunlight. Briar touched the corner, rubbing it between her fingers before tugging it to one side.
Immediately, sunlight streamed into the room, bathing her in warmth.
Warmth.
Not fire.
Uncontrolled laughter bubbled from her throat as she turned her palm in the light. The heat pooled in her hand like liquid. Slowly, Briar rotated her wrist to study the light on her skin. The fine hairs along her arm were only visible at a certain angle, disappearing when she lowered and twisted her arm.
Arm outstretched, she pressed her palm against the thick glass window. She’d expected it to be warm as well, but the air outside must have been cold. The temperature between the glass and the sun made a study of opposites, and she shivered, delighted.
“It doesn’t burn?” Hudson asked from behind her, and Briar shook her head before glancing over her shoulder at him.
“I didn’t hear you,” she said.
“You were distracted.” He smiled, but it was only a quick upward flick of his lips before they tightened. “It doesn’t hurt?” Striding toward her, he removed his hands from his pockets and reached out. Briar placed her hands in his when he was w
ithin grasping distance.
“No,” she whispered. For some reason, she couldn’t bring her voice above a whisper when he was this close. The experience of standing in the sunlight reminded her of being in church, and she was afraid, if she spoke too loud, the sense of peace and calm she had would disappear. “No. It’s warm. It feels good.”
Hudson trailed his fingers along her skin, leaving a wake of goosebumps. “I don’t know how this is possible.” He whispered now like she had. “I don’t know how any of this is possible.”
“I don’t either, Hudson,” she replied. He stepped closer, letting his hands drift down her arms to cup her elbows. They stood chest to chest, eyes on each other. When Hudson spoke, his breath tickled her face and made her close her eyes. Mine. When she opened them again, the sun fell fully on Hudson’s face. Shadows rested beneath his cheekbones, making the lines of his face seem even sharper. “You’re so beautiful.” Briar touched his chin and trailed her finger along his jaw. His stubble was rough against her skin, and she had to wonder, did his beard grow? Did he need haircuts? Would she? Or would her hair remain at the same length for the rest of her life? What if—
“I can see the wheels turning in your mind.” Hudson smiled and his features softened. This time, the smile lingered on his lips. “What are you thinking?”
She threaded her fingers through the silky hair at his temples, and his eyes closed reflexively. “About hair.”
His eyes popped open, and he chuckled. “Hair?”
“Mmhmm.” Keeping her gaze on her pale hands in his dark hair, she nodded. “And metabolism.”
Hudson captured her hands, and she lifted her eyebrows as she met his gaze. His eyes were so blue in the sunlight, the pupils shrunk to a pinprick so she could see every shade and facet of his iris. Around the pupil was the tiny ring of gold she’d noticed when they’d first met.
When she tugged her hands, a sign for him to release her, he let her go, and she smoothed her thumbs over his dark brows before sweeping them across his cheekbones. “I could stare at you forever.”
Diadem of Blood and Bones Page 2