Briar: A Reverse Harem Romance (Midnight's Crown Book 1)

by Ripley Proserpina

  With his absence came control of her body. She dug her fingers into the ground, holding herself from hitting the ground face first.

  “I should be offended, but I’m not,” he said. “I’ll let you think about it. Perhaps I spoke too soon.” He knelt next to her and touched her. She felt his fingers graze her neck, and then he held her chin in his hand, forcing her head up. As she watched, he placed his fingers, covered in her blood, in his mouth and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were black. “So much to consider now.” He stood, lurching to his feet. “Forget my message. Forget my sons. Everything has changed now.” His long fingers dug into her hair, sliding back through the strands. “A kingdom of vampires. A queen and king. Your blood is life, and I need more.”

  Briar fell back, dug her heels into the ground, and shoved away, but he was too fast and too strong. He was on her, lifting her to her feet and embracing her. Again his teeth slid into her neck, and he drew hard against her veins.

  Unable to fight, hands limp at her sides, all Briar could do was scream in her mind. Sylvain! Valen! Hudson! Marcus!

  Their names were her prayer and plea, but no one came. Her eyes closed, and in her ears, her heartbeat thudded. Once. Twice. Pause.

  They’re going to know. I’m going to remember.

  “Oh, little vampire girl, no, they won’t. Go to sleep, and forget all this.” His voice seemed far away. “Goodnight, sweet Briar.”

  Chapter 26

  Sylvain

  Sylvain couldn’t explain his anxiety, but it nipped at his heels. He took the stairs, two at a time, pausing for a second outside Briar’s door. Through it, he could make out the smooth inhalation and exhalation of her breath.

  Carefully, he opened the door, then found her curled on her side, book tucked under one arm. She didn’t rouse at his entrance, so he risked getting closer.

  Her breathing hitched, and beneath her eyelids, her eyes tracked from side to side, signifying she was deeply asleep. She was fine, taking a much-needed nap.

  But something was off; Sylvain could sense it.

  Unwillingly, he thought of Annie and the last days of her life. He’d known something was wrong with their wife, he’d felt the same sort of foreboding, but he’d overlooked the signs. He’d ignored the pit in his stomach, and the way she seemed to look through all of them.

  It was a mistake he wouldn’t make again. If something felt off, he would investigate it, figure out the source of his unease, and fix it.

  In the back of his mind, Sylvain counted Briar’s breaths. Her rhythmic heartbeat was the soundtrack to his thoughts.

  What was she dreaming about? Her breath came faster, tiny pants, while her eyelids twitched. Hopefully, she was having a good dream.

  Cheeks rosy, she continued to dream, and he continued to watch her. He wished he could be in her head, see what she was seeing.

  Perhaps it was wrong to watch her while she slept, but he couldn’t make himself move. Sylvain studied her face and found the small scars that hinted at burns. Beneath one eye, the skin was smoother, and beneath that scar, one side of her mouth dropped a little lower than the other. Funny he’d never noticed it before.

  It was cute. She had a perpetual smile on her face. Gently, so as not to wake her, he touched her face with the pad of his thumb. A small spot, the side with the scar, lacked freckles, but on her other cheek, they scattered across her skin likes stars.

  Wrapped up as he was in her freckles, at first he didn’t notice her skin cooling. But all at once, the golden dots stood out starkly against her skin. Scowling, he touched her cheek with the whole of his palm. Her skin went from cool, to icy, all at once, and her pulse which had been thumping steadily, stuttered.

  “Marcus!” Sylvain wasn’t a doctor, but he knew this wasn’t normal. People didn’t go to sleep and stop breathing. They also woke up when someone yelled in their face. “Briar. Wake up.” Her eyes continued to move, but she didn’t wake up. “Briar!”

  Nothing.

  “Move.” Pushing him aside, Marcus took his place next to Briar. He touched his fingers to her pulse, and a wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. Valen arrived as well and stood on the other side of her bed, staring down at her. He reached for one of her hands and squeezed it. “Come on, little one. Wake up.”

  “Briar.” Marcus spoke firmly, but not loud, and shook her shoulder. “Briar, wake up.”

  She didn’t move and even her eyes stopped twitching. “She’s so cold,” Marcus muttered. “I don’t understand. Briar! Wake up!”

  Sylvain held his breath. Wake up. He willed her to do it. “Briar. Wake. Up.”

  “Do you smell that?” Marcus asked, glancing back at him.

  Sylvain sucked in a lungful of air. It was off, as if her natural scent was so light, it had nearly disappeared, and beneath that was another scent. Fear. Pain.

  Why pain?

  “Under the sink, I have a first aid kit. One of you get it.” Marcus was abrupt and kept his fingers on her wrist. “Hurry!”

  Sylvain dashed past his brothers and shoved the door open so hard it slammed into the wall behind it. In the bathroom, he dove beneath the sink, sweeping everything out of his way until he found the small white box. A heartbeat later, he was back, pushing it into Marcus’s hands. “There.”

  Marcus opened it, and pulled out a small plastic cylinder. He tore it open, and waved it beneath Briar’s nose.

  Beside him, Valen was still, his eyes glued to her face. When she took a breath and her eyes popped open, the three of them let out a collective breath.

  Her face was white, down to her lips. The only bit of color on her were her golden freckles, but she stared at them confused. With a wince, she sat up, and ran her fingers through her hair, but she wobbled, and grabbed her pillow to steady herself. “Whoa.”

  “Look at me,” Marcus directed, and held her face in his hands. He turned her head from side to side, staring into her eyes before dropping his fingers to her neck and taking her pulse. “What happened?”

  “I fell asleep,” she answered, looking between them. “What’s going on?”

  “You wouldn’t wake up,” Sylvain answered. “You were cold as ice.”

  She lifted her hands to her face, but Marcus stopped her. “Wait.” He finished taking her pulse and gently pinched the skin on the back of her hand, then sat back. “Well, that was exciting.”

  “She’s okay?” Valen asked.

  Marcus nodded. “Pulse is a little slow, skin is still cool, and she’s dehydrated. But body temperatures drop during sleep. With all the excitement and healing, I think you just fell into a deep sleep faster than normal.”

  “That wasn’t normal,” Sylvain said. Nothing about what happened was typical. From his sense something was wrong, to her scent of pain and fear, to her waking up now. Something was off.

  “It’s not typical,” Marcus said. “But it is normal. Her body is healing, of course she’s exhausted.”

  “Why is she so pale?” Sylvain asked and breathed in. “And her scent is different.” Breathing in Briar was like walking through an orchard in full bloom. Now it was just a ghost of a scent, mixed by residual fear and pain. “Do you hurt? I smell pain.”

  Briar moved her neck from side to side and stretched her arms over her head. “I’m a little sore. My neck is stiff like I slept wrong. I should probably check the graft and change the bandage.”

  “Come on.” Marcus held out his hands. “Since I’m in doctor mode, I’ll check you out.”

  Briar stood and wobbled again. She fumbled for something to hold onto, but Marcus caught her, and Sylvain held her arm. Nearby, Valen had jumped at her first step off the bed. They had her surrounded.

  “Sorry.” Grasping his arm tighter, she stood motionless. “Okay,” she said after a moment. “I think I’m good.”

  But Sylvain didn’t let go. He held onto her arm all the way into the bathroom, and kept holding on when she sat on the toilet seat and let Marcus remove her bandage.

 
“How’s it look?” she asked, and Sylvain winced. It looked strange. The injury wasn’t a perfect shape, but ragged, which the stitches around the outside emphasized. Netting covered the skin across the top of the injury. He wasn’t a doctor, though, and couldn’t say if it was healing well or not. Marcus examined it closely. It was bright pink.

  “Good,” he answered. “Healing well.”

  “How many of these have you had?” Sylvain asked. It might have been healing well, but it still looked painful.

  “This is nothing,” Briar said as Marcus covered it again. “You should have seen this one.” She pointed to her cheek and the bone directly beneath her eye. “I’m lucky I have movement in this side of my face.” She yawned. “Sorry.”

  “You’re exhausted,” Valen said from his place at the door. He crossed his arms and stared at her. “You should go back to bed.”

  The air in the bathroom filled with the scent of Briar’s panic. “I—” Her breath came rapidly, and she shook her head. “I—”

  Sylvain pushed Marcus aside and scooped her into his arms, he strode down the stairs into the wider living room space. “Breathe,” he said.

  She nodded, and when he sucked in a breath, she copied him. Eventually, her heart rate slowed.

  “What was that?” Marcus asked. Sylvain hadn’t even realized he’d followed them; he’d been entirely focused on Briar.

  “I don’t know.” Tears leaked from her eyes, and gently, Sylvain swept them away. “I don’t know.”

  Sylvain didn’t know either, but he suspected it was related to his earlier sense of something being off. Something had triggered Briar’s response, and even if she couldn’t name what it was, she’d felt it.

  “I don’t want to go to sleep though,” she said. “I’m not tired anymore.”

  “Are you sure?” Valen asked. “You—”

  “I’m positive,” she answered and stood. She walked to Valen and embraced him, leaning her head on his chest. “I’m sure. I have a ton of homework, and I’m going to do it. Thank you for waking me up. Even if it was just a deep sleep, I needed to wake up.” Valen smiled down at her, but Sylvain knew his brother well enough to see he was worried.

  She took a step toward the stairs and hesitated, as if she didn’t want to go up. “Do you mind if I study down here?” she asked, glancing at Marcus and then him.

  “Please,” Marcus said, and Sylvain nodded. He’d been reading Hudson’s research papers, trying to understand what it was Briar thought she had. He had so many questions, and he hated not having the answers.

  Or he hated asking Hudson and Marcus for the answers.

  Sunlight wasn’t something he could fight, nor could he design a formula that would allow her to walk in the sun like him. He needed something to punch. He was great at punching.

  Valen walked upstairs with Briar and came down minutes later, books and laptop in his hands. Briar trailed behind him, each step downstairs seemed to take more energy than it should. He stood, walked to her and took her hand. “Sit with me?”

  She nodded, her skin tight over the bones in her face. How was it she seemed even more frail and insubstantial than ever?

  Valen placed her books on the coffee table and the laptop on the couch. Sylvain patted the sofa, and she sat, shoulder against his. “What are you studying?” he asked.

  “I fell asleep reading art history. But I should focus on chemistry now.” She glanced over at him and the computer he’d stolen from Marcus. “What were you doing?”

  “Shopping,” Marcus said, from his seat near the window. He idly turned a page, as if disinterested, but Sylvain caught his smirk.

  “I was reading Hudson’s research,” he said, shooting a glare at his brother.

  “Oh,” she breathed and scooted closer to look at the computer. “Can I see?”

  He tapped the keys to wake the computer. “This is his first one. It’s a summary.”

  Briar nodded. “He took all the other research out there and compiled it. It’s a good place to start. But it’s pretty dense. Hold on. When I first started researching, I tried to dive right into Hudson’s work, too, but there’s a better place to start. Can I see your computer?”

  Without waiting for him to answer, she slid the machine into her lap and began to tap away. “Here.” After a moment she handed it back. “This is a summary, in lay terms, about genetic mutation. Those freaky little chromosomes have one bitty change, and suddenly you’re toast.” She shook her head. “Crazy.”

  “What do you think about what Hudson and Marcus discovered yesterday?” he asked as Valen sat on her other side. From across the room, Marcus lifted his head and then pretended to read again.

  Briar shrugged. “I think it’s interesting, but practically speaking, it doesn’t change anything. I’m still allergic to the sun. I still have to cover myself head-to-toe. As far as it affects me, it doesn’t. But—” Her face lit up, and her breath came rapidly. “What I really think is fascinating is that there is a biological basis for vampires, and science has the answers. What else might exist in the world? Werewolves? The Loch Ness Monster? Vampires were supposed to be myths, but they’re not.” Her respiration quickened, and she sat against the back of the sofa, hand over her chest. “Phew.” She focused on breathing and then started again. “So tell me, do you have a werewolf friend I haven’t met yet?”

  “Sadly, no,” Valen answered for him. “Sylvain is the closest thing I’ve ever seen to a werewolf. You should have seen him four hundred years ago. You wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.”

  Briar groaned. “You can’t say things like, ‘four hundred years ago,’ when I have two chapters of chemistry to read!”

  Marcus chuckled from the corner, but Sylvain merely glared at Valen. “You should talk. Tattoos from head to foot. Helmets made of horns. Scared off the villagers the minute you set foot in the territories.”

  Briar shut the book with a snap. “That’s it. Spill. ‘The territories?’ And what helmet with horns. And these tattoos?” She reached for Valen and traced the curled edge of one tattoo that snuck out from the collar of his shirt. “What is it? Hudson said you were a marauder. Does that—” Her eyes widened. “Holy cow. You’re a Viking.”

  “When I met Valen, he was called a Varangian,” Marcus said, closing his book. “He was a sword man and a bodyguard.”

  “He was already a vampire when I met him,” Sylvain said.

  “I don’t know as much history as I do biology,” Briar apologized and yawned. “Sorry. I wish I’d paid more attention so I could know the timeline we’re talking about. You became a vampire a thousand years ago, Valen?”

  “Fourteen hundred, give or take. Hudson is the oldest one of us, but he and Marcus stopped counting at two thousand years,” Valen said.

  “Sylvain?” she asked. “You said hundreds.”

  “I was a colonist,” he said. “Came to the colonies from Canada. My father was a trapper, and my mother, an Abenaki.”

  Briar waited, encouraging, but Sylvain didn’t want to get into his history beyond that. It was too hard, and he was already on edge. As much as Briar, and his brothers, seemed happy forgetting what had happened earlier, he was not.

  The whole event left him unsettled, and he had to work not to snap at his brothers to take it more seriously.

  The front door opened and shut, and Hudson dropped his bag. “Hi,” he said. He walked to Briar, and kissed her cheek, breathing in. “You smell off. Are you okay?”

  “She’s not,” Sylvain answered over Marcus. “She fell asleep and wouldn’t wake up. Twice, she’s nearly fallen when she stood, and she’s cold and pale.” He crossed his arms.

  “Your skin is cold,” Hudson said. Sliding away the books, he sat on the coffee table, reached for her wrist, and touched it with two fingers.

  “I’ve already taken her pulse, and she’s—”

  “Shh.” Hudson glared at Marcus and refocused. “It’s slow. And you’ve been dizzy?”

  “She h
as,” Sylvain said, and Briar side-eyed him.

  “I know you’re worried, Sylvain, but she’s fine,” Marcus said.

  “She’s not fine. I knew something was wrong, went in her room, and watched her turn pink to white and warm to cold. That’s not normal.” Sylvain dared Marcus to cross him. “I don’t need a medical degree to know that.”

  “The house is secure,” Valen said. “I was down the hallway and heard nothing until Sylvain went into her room.”

  Hudson stared at the wall and shook his head. “I don’t know. You’re feeling better though?”

  “I am.” Briar held up her hand when Sylvain would answer. “I really am.”

  “Then we watch.” Hudson’s face was grim. “We assume the worst until we know better.”

  Sylvain liked the sound of that. Assume the worst. He might just make it his personal motto.

  Chapter 27

  Briar

  The rest of the evening was spent studying. On his way home, Hudson had picked up dinner for her, and Briar ate it, though no one else did.

  “Food loses its flavor after a while,” Valen explained. “When it doesn’t fill you up or satisfy you, there’s no point.”

  Hudson had brought her soup from a Vietnamese restaurant, and she ate slowly. For a while, she wasn’t sure if her stomach would accept the food, but she forced it down.

  She hated to admit it, but what happened earlier really freaked her out. There were times when she brought the spoon to her mouth, she was afraid she would drop the utensil. It seemed to be taking more energy than she had. Her muscles were a weird combination of loose and overexerted.

  Once, she’d lifted weights with her brother, and she had the same sort of feeling. Like she could barely close her fist, she’d overtaxed her muscles so much.

  By the time she finished supper, she was completely done, but each time she thought about returning upstairs and falling asleep, she panicked.