Chapter One
Briar
Briar opened her eyes to a dark, quiet room. Outside, cars rumbled by the house where she lived in Boston’s Back Bay with four vampires.
Her vampires.
“Morning.” Marcus’s voice always sounded like he was smiling. Briar couldn’t help smiling in return. She struggled to sit up from the mattress, a deep-feathered monstrosity that was ridiculously comfortable. Yawning hugely, she squinted into the darkness to make him out. She found him in an overstuffed chair, a book dangling from his long, graceful fingers.
“Morning,” she said in reply. “What are you reading?” She yawned again, her head feeling thick and full, like she was still half-asleep.
Marcus didn’t answer but stood, crossing the room to her. Once at the bed, he sat, reaching for her face. “You look pale this morning.”
“I’m always pale,” she joked, pushing back the covers.
His gaze dropped to her pajama clad chest reflexively, and he grinned. “Nice jammies.”
Briar glanced down at the t-shirt she’d worn. It was one of Sylvain’s and smelled like him. Lifting the collar to her nose, she breathed in before she let it fall. The neck was stretched from her tossing and turning and fell off one shoulder.
This was one of those mornings when getting up in the dark would be hard, she could tell already.
Briar’s condition, erythropoietic protoporphyria, caused her skin to burn and blister from just a touch of an ultraviolet ray. As a result, until she was in her UV blocking clothes, all of the curtains in the house had to be drawn.
Recently, however, she’d found out she didn’t actually have EPP, but vampirism.
Yup. She was a vampire, sort of.
Back in early September, Hudson, one of her vampire—even now her mind sort of stuttered and squealed when she thought about it—boyfriends, discovered a mutation on Briar’s chromosome. What the doctors had diagnosed as a syndrome? Well, it wasn’t.
She had a genetic mutation similar to vampirism, but without any of the cool things that went along with it, like super speed, or super hearing, or super long life, or super healing.
Briar corrected the path her thoughts had taken. It wasn’t all bad. At least she didn’t have to drink blood to survive. And so she was allergic to the sun. She could deal with that.
She was dealing with it, and quite well, too. Here she was, in Boston, attending graduate school. Every day, she got up and attended Boston College. After her classes, she snuck down to Professor Hotson, no, Hudson Nors’s lab and helped him with his research.
Life was really good right now.
And if she was exhausted after a full night of sleep, that was normal. She was a graduate student with a thousand things on her mind, not the least of which were four supernaturally handsome vampires who left her heart twitterpated.
“Kant,” Marcus said suddenly, yanking her out of her thoughts. “I was reading Kant.”
“Eighteenth-century moral philosophy,” Briar observed. “Were you trying to put yourself to sleep?”
The easy-going smile left Marcus’s countenance. His gaze went to her bare shoulder and then back to her face. “I was watching you sleep, thinking about how beautiful you are, and suddenly I thought, Kant!”
Her cheeks heated, and she covered them with her palms.
“And so I found my copy of Observations on the Feeling of the Beautiful and Sublime,” Marcus continued. “It seemed fitting.”
Briar swayed toward him, but he leaned away from her, his eyes hardening. “Marcus,” she whispered, “I won’t break.”
His movements were swift and jerky. A quick kiss on her forehead, and then he was off the bed, moving toward the door. “I’ll see you downstairs. You have class at what, ten today?”
Nodding, she watched him back away. He kept his back toward the door, like she’d attack him if he turned around. “Yes.”
“Great. Get dressed. I’ll get breakfast.”
“Okay,” she answered quietly. “Thank you.”
His figure blurred as he rushed out the door, but he managed to close it softly. Alone in the dark room, Briar sighed. All of them—Marcus, Sylvain, Valen, and Hudson—had started to treat her like she was made of glass.
They moved slowly, deliberately, like they were trying to broadcast their intentions before carrying out an action. All of their touches were gentle.
Gentle forehead kisses. Gentle hugs. Gentle hand holding.
They were afraid.
A few weeks before, their maker had reappeared in their lives after having been absent for four hundred years. One of the oldest vampires in existence, Asher was powerful.
And he’d used that power to control her guys and make them attack her. They’d managed to shake themselves loose of his control, but the experience had traumatized them.
Yes. That was the right word. Traumatized. Briar walked to the bathroom, scooping the pile of clothes she’d laid out the night before.
Ever since Asher had made them attack her, they’d kept her at arm’s length.
Flipping the light on in the bathroom, Briar examined her reflection and sighed. The injury she’d sustained on her neck was healing. She pulled off the bandage she kept over it and stood on her tiptoes to peer closer.
After this particularly bad burn, she’d had to have a skin graft on her neck. It was still red, but at least the stitches were gone. She touched her fingers to the puffy skin. It was getting better.
I wish I could say the same about the bags under my eyes. A major injury and graduate school? That had to account for her exhaustion and pallor. Dismissing her reflection, Briar grabbed her toothbrush and went about her morning routine. In a matter of minutes, she was dressed and ready for her day.
On her way out of the room, she grabbed her hat and gloves. She’d have breakfast with her guys, and then she’d be on her way.
Lamps lit the stairways and living room, but the curtains remained closed. Guilt pinged Briar’s chest, but she forced it away. They’d told her not to feel bad about keeping the curtains in the house closed. Because of a discovery and resulting medicine Hudson had made, all four of the vampires could walk in the sun. But because of Briar, they had to keep the curtains closed.
They’d spent centuries in darkness, only for Hudson to discover a way for them to enjoy the sunlight again. And then they met her, and bam! Back to the shadows.
“Good morning, little one.” Valen’s deep voice startled her, and she jumped, grasping the bannister so she didn’t tumble down the stairs. He jogged to meet her, white teeth bright in his handsome face. He stopped a couple stairs below her so they were eye-to-eye. “Sleep well?” he asked.
Her stomach clenched. “I… I must have,” she answered. “I don’t remember. I’m sure I did.”
He drew his blond brows together before touching beneath her eyes. “You seem tired. Are you getting sick?”
“I don’t think so,” she answered and lifted her shoulders. “Maybe?”
“Get back in bed,” Sylvain boomed from the living room. Booted feet hit the wood floor before he appeared a moment later. He touched her forehead with the back of his hand. “You don’t feel warm, but that doesn’t mean anything. Call Hudson. He’s a doctor. Or, if Marcus is closer, call Marcus. He’s a doctor of something, isn’t he?” Sylvain’s dark eyes flashed warningly when no one immediately jumped to do his bidding. “Marcus!” he yelled. “Hudson!”
“I heard you,” Marcus called from the kitchen, and Briar giggled.
Sylvain had wedged himself onto the same step as Valen, and now they stood, two giants on a tiny staircase.
“I’m fine,” she assured Sylvain and kissed first him, and then Valen, on the cheek. “But I am hungry, and I don’t want to be late for class.”
Sylvain growled but acquiesced, leading the way to the kitchen. Valen kissed her hand before laying it over his shoulder to lace her fingers with his. Once they got to the first floor, Briar could no longer reach Valen’s shoulder, and she released him.
Not for the first time, she wondered at the beauty of him. Even in the dim light, she could make out the dark tendrils of ink that curled along his neck and jaw. His blond hair swept his shoulders. He was tall and handsome, but what really made him beautiful was his kindness. It seeped from his pores.
Briar stopped him before they went into the kitchen with a gentle touch on his elbow. At once, he turned, smiling down at her. Standing on tiptoes, she brushed her lips across his.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“For being you,” she answered. “That’s all.”
Eyes softening, Valen lifted her hand to his mouth. “What you do to my heart, little one.”
“What you do to mine, Valen,” she replied just as quietly.
With a small tug, he encouraged her into the kitchen. Marcus and Sylvain stood at the counter, dark heads bent toward each other as they spoke.
Hudson sat on a stool, scrolling through his phone, but glanced up when she came through the door, his nostrils flaring. “You feeling all right?”
Sylvain’s head snapped up at the question. “I knew she looked sick. I just told you.”
Ignoring him, Hudson stood and strode toward her. He cupped her face, tipping her head back to the light to examine her eyes. “You’re paler than usual. Are you taking those iron supplements I got you?”
Briar winced. “They make my stomach hurt. I found a children’s vitamin with iron, and it works better.”
“No, that’s fine,” Hudson said, touching his fingers to her wrist to take her pulse. “I’m afraid you’re wearing yourself down. Were you up late last night studying?”
“No later than usual. I’m probably fighting off a cold. Think about it, Hudson. I’ve essentially been sequestered from the general population most of my life. It’s inevitable that I’m going to be sick. I need to build up my immunity.”
Two lines appeared between Hudson’s brows while he stared at his watch. “That could be it.”
“Do I really look that bad?” She smoothed her knuckles beneath her eyebrows.
“No,” Marcus answered quickly. “But you’re outnumbered with overprotective—”
Briar waited, wondering how he’d finish the sentence. But he didn’t. He left it hanging and left her inordinately disappointed. In her mind, she didn’t like the term boyfriend.
They felt bigger than that to her, more important than something as simple as boyfriends.
He cleared his throat, overly interested suddenly in the coat hanging on the back of one of his chairs. “I need to get going. Let me drive you?”
“She hasn’t had breakfast yet,” Sylvain said.
“To go?” Briar said. She could sense Marcus wanted her to go with him, but he wouldn’t push it. Sylvain frowned, but Briar had a plan. She grabbed fruit from the basket on the counter and a yogurt from the fridge and held it up. “Good?”
He grumbled something that could have been an affirmative. She hugged him with one arm around his waist. “I’m going to take care of myself, Sylvain. I promise.” Beneath all of Sylvain’s hovering was worry, and Briar wasn’t going to make fun of him for it. He hadn’t revealed all that much of his past, but there was something there that colored the way he treated her.
So many questions needed answers. But they’d come. She found herself using this phrase when her intuition told her she didn’t have the whole story. The answers will come. Just be patient.
Sylvain wrapped both arms around her. Thick muscles blocked her view for a second before he let her go. “Promise?” he whispered when he leaned down to kiss her hair.
“Promise.”
“Ready?” Marcus asked, and Sylvain growled. Immediately, Marcus held up his hands, a half grin on his face. “Look, I’ve gotta go from here to Chestnut Hill and then to Cambridge on a Monday morning. Sorry if I want to leave a little early.”
“You don’t have to bring her,” Sylvain ground out, arms tightening around her. Briar turned her head, kissing his pec. It was where her head reached. At least, that was her excuse. The other part of kissing his rock hard chest was because he was all muscly and she couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her when her lips grazed his body.
Sylvain stilled, not even the breath left him. “Blossom,” he groaned under his breath, using the nickname he’d given her. His hair fell in front of her face as he bowed his head over hers. After a long moment, he released her and stepped away. “Drive safely,” he said gruffly to Marcus and, with a quick glance at Hudson and Valen, left.
“I’ll see you later,” Valen said, rushing to her so fast he blurred. His kiss was a breeze across her skin, and then he was gone.
With a quick wave, Hudson hurried behind them, leaving her and Marcus. The door hadn’t opened enough for her to see the weather before they were gone. “Where are they all going?” she asked. It was weird for Hudson not to be going to Boston College right away. But then again, he had worked late the night before.
“They’re hunting,” Marcus said, picking up her backpack where it sat by the door. “Are you ready?”
Briar nodded. “You don’t need to go with them?”
“No,” he answered, frowning. His face cleared when he saw her concern. “I’m good, Briar. I took care of it a few days ago. Don’t forget your hat.”
She settled it on her head and pulled on her gloves. Her phone would chirp reminders to her to keep her gloves and hat on, just in case she took them off in class and forgot to put them on before she left. Usually, she was very careful, but there were times when life overwhelmed her and she did stupid things.
Marcus opened the door, and for the first time, Briar got a look at the weather. Heavy, gray clouds and a wintry breeze made it the perfect day for her.
Together, she and Marcus walked silently to the curb. He stayed with her, one hand on her elbow, while he juggled her bag, his bag, and keys. Somehow, he managed all of it gracefully, even while opening the door for her. A gentleman to the bone, and despite her repeated attempts in the past to carry her own bag, Marcus insisted upon it.
She slid into the front seat, watching as he jogged past the front of the car to the driver’s side. As he passed the bumper, he glanced at her and gifted her with a smile. His green eyes sparkled, and butterflies went to fluttering.
He jumped into the car and immediately turned on the heater, holding his hands in front of the vents to feel the air. Briar shivered and pulled the collar of her jacket over her neck. “Why don’t you wait until the car warms up before you turn on the heat?” she asked.
Marcus flashed a grin. “You’ve been talking to Hudson, haven’t you? Did he tell you to ask that?”
Slouching in the seat, she rolled her eyes. She’d been had. The last time she’d driven with Hudson, they’d been halfway to BC before he turned on the heat, and she’d remarked on it. Comparing what he did to Marcus. Hudson’s answer had been a cheeky grin and the words, “Ask Marcus why.” She should have smelled a rat.
“I’m not going to be the innocent victim in this game of who’s right,” she said but leaned over to give him a quick smack of a kiss on his cheek. “You two are incorrigible.”
Marcus threw his head back and laughed, the smooth brown column of his throat drew her eye. Her fingers wanted to trace his skin, touch the angle of his jaw, but she curled them into her lap. She couldn’t hang all over them, as much as she may want to.
Marcus glanced at her and then away as they turned off of Beacon Street. He merged into traffic effortlessly, but his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. His knuckles turned white, and the leather creaked beneath his hands.
“So.” He cleared his throat. “About this morning. I wanted to talk to you.”
She knew something was coming, but this wasn’t what she expected. Rapidly, she went over the events in her mind. “What happened this morning?” she asked, giving up.
“You weren’t feeling well, and we were all on you about it. About taking care of yourself.”
Briar waved aside the concern. “I know you care about me, and you outnumber me, like you said. It doesn’t bother me. I like that you look out for me.”
“No.” He peered at her before shaking his head. “No. That’s not what I meant. I meant the part about boyfriends.”
“Oh!” Briar curled her leg beneath her, angling her body toward him completely. This was what she’d wondered about. She wanted to hear what he had to say and didn’t want to miss it. What would he call himself?
“I didn’t want you to think, because I couldn’t define what we were, that you weren’t important to me. I’ll call myself whatever you want.” Honesty rang in every word he uttered.
Barely containing her groan, Briar dropped her head in her hands. “I was hoping you would define it,” she mumbled. “Boyfriend doesn’t sound right. I wondered how you thought of me.”
Marcus smiled. She looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. He didn’t seem upset, but amused. “I know,” he replied. “It doesn’t sound big enough.”
“Suitor?” she asked. “Consort? Beau?”
“Your beau?” he asked. “You want to call me your beau?”
“I am from the south,” she answered, laying her accent on thick. “But in this case, wouldn’t it be beaux? Beau-zes? Beau-i? I’m just joking. I know the plural.”
The car rolled to a stop, and he faced her. In front of them, the red lights of a traffic jam lit up for as far as she could make out. They were going to be here a while.
“Briar. I know everything got really tense for a while. And we let you down—” Briar opened her mouth to interrupt, but he ducked his chin, smile disappearing. “We did, Briar. We lost control of ourselves to Asher, and we nearly attacked you. For the rest of my life, I’ll never forget the smell of your terror. I’ll never forget how hard it was not to hurt you.”
“Marcus.” She said his name on a breath. Reaching across the console, she took the hand resting on the gearshift in both of hers. “Marcus. I saw how hard you tried. I saw you fight his control. Do you want to know what I remember?”
As if he couldn’t meet her eyes, he stared at the brake lights of the car in front of them, but he laced his fingers with hers and held on.
“Marcus. I remember you telling me not to move. I remember the flashes in your eyes, in Hudson’s eyes, that showed me you were in there. I remember Valen throwing himself against the wall to keep himself from me. And Sylvain breaking the door handle off as he tried to stay away. No one fought harder than you all did that day.”
He shook his head, and his eyes grew bright. But still, he didn’t meet her gaze. At a loss, she brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “Forgive yourself, Marcus. I have. Long ago.”
“But what if it happens again? What if he hurts you again and I can’t stop him? What if I have no idea he’s controlling me?”
Briar froze. It was as if his words nudged something in her subconscious. She could feel it, like a sliver, but the more she prodded, the deeper the feeling hid. No idea. Have no idea. No idea. The words echoed in her brain, building toward something, but she just couldn’t get to it.
“What is it?” Marcus said, sucking her back to the present.
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “I thought of something, but then I lost it.” Marcus narrowed his eyes, watching her, but she shrugged. “It’s nothing,” she assured him. “It’ll come to me if it’s important.”
From a distance, sirens wailed. They came closer, and soon the cars in front of them were pulling to one side, trying to make room for the ambulance and fire trucks maneuvering through the bumper-to-bumper cars. “We’re going to be here a while,” Marcus said, and lifted his lips in a half smile. “Sorry.”
Briar pulled her phone from the front pouch on her backpack. She had plenty of time. The heat was blowing full force now, and she kicked off her boots to keep her feet from sweating. A day spent in wet socks was not something she felt like experiencing. Again.
She was still working out New England weather.
Feet curled beneath her, Briar leaned her arm on the armrest next to Marcus. His coat was soft beneath her cheek when she laid her head against him. The skin on her neck no longer pulled uncomfortably with such movements.
Marcus adjusted his arm, sliding it behind her neck and around her shoulders. “What are you looking forward to the most today?” he asked.
“Hmm.” It would be a cop-out to say everything, but that was the truth. As exhausted as she felt, and as overwhelmed as her schedule made her, she loved school. Her days were packed. She took graduate level classes with professors whose research intrigued her and undergraduate classes for subjects that caught her interest, like art history. But the best part of her day was probably… “Hudson’s lab,” she said.
Marcus belted out a laugh. “I should have known. You’re going every day now?”
Briar hummed. “Mmhmm. I shadow him, but mostly, I’m correlating data.”
“Data correlation,” Marcus drolled. “Fascinating.”
She patted his hand where it touched her shoulder. “Stop. It’s a necessary part of research. I don’t mind it.”
“If you were in my lab…” Marcus began, causing Briar to giggle. This was a constant source of contention with Marcus. He wanted her to transfer to Harvard—like it was that easy—and join his research team.
The month before, every single day for a week, she’d find Marcus had left small gifts on her bed. Most of them in Harvard crimson. Sweatshirts, a bumper sticker, a pin. Scarf.
He was relentless.
She’d come downstairs wearing the sweatshirt once. The following week, Hudson engaged in the competition. Boston College’s maroon and gold hat, mittens, hoodie, and scarf all appeared.
So now she wore a Harvard sweatshirt with a BC hat, and everyone was happy. Or no one was happy. Either way, no one was left out.
“It’s not that I don’t find your research as interesting as Hudson’s,” Briar said, leaning her head against him. “But what if, while I’m working with Hudson, we find a cure for EPP? Or we find a solution to my genetic mutation and I’m able to be exposed to sunlight.” As she spoke, she got more excited, her voice rising higher. “Or what if you don’t need shots every six months, instead you’re able to go years without the medicine he makes?”
“What if,” Marcus said quietly, a counter to her excitement, “I discover a way for us to stay alive without blood and you never needed to worry about us attacking you again.”
“I don’t worry about it now,” she answered immediately.
A muscle jumped near his jaw when he clenched his teeth, and he narrowed his eyes.
“Marcus—” Briar nudged him again. “You can’t beat yourself up for this forever. Please. If you didn’t bring it up, I wouldn’t have spent more than a moment on the memory of what happened.”
Traffic moved slowly, and Marcus released the brake to trail close behind the car in front of him. He cut a glance to her and then gave his attention back to the road.
Forgiveness. For all her emphasis on forgiving himself, Briar understood it wasn’t as easy as she made it out to be. There were times when she was busy, writing a report or making dinner for herself, and she’d think about a thoughtless phrase she’d made and groan aloud.
When she’d first met Valen, she’d hollered at him for hovering and he’d taken off, only to return with her breakfast. She thought of that event at least twice a day, and it didn’t fail to make her feel awful.
She waylaid Valen with hugs when she thought of what she’d done, and he probably had no idea what prompted it. And if she told him, he’d wave it aside and assure her he’d long ago forgiven her. He’d tell her, don’t worry about it.
So she got what Marcus was dealing with. It wasn’t an easy thing.
Marcus passed Fenway Park, and Briar craned her neck. “I wish I’d gotten to a game this year,” she said. “I want to see The Green Monster.”
“I’ll let Sylvain and Valen take you. Fifteen innings of spitting and kiss-cams. I’ll pass.”
Briar giggled. “I don’t think they last fifteen innings, Marcus.”
“Feels like it,” he said, doing a spot-on, if unintentional, impression of Sylvain.
“So you’d pass up the kiss-cam?” Briar teased. She side-eyed him. Cars were traveling at a fast clip now, the accident from earlier cleaned up. Marcus kept his gaze on the road, but the corner of his mouth lifted.
“Who’d I be kissing?” he asked, his voice lower than usual.
Briar’s face heated, but she managed to get out, “Me. Obviously.”
“Fifteen innings of bat swinging, here I come. But what if the camera doesn’t land on us?” he asked, smile growing so his eyes crinkled at the sides.
“Well…” Briar pretended to think about it. “In that case, I’d have pity on you and kiss you just because.”
“How about for a ride to school?” he asked.
“Kiss you for taking me to school?” Briar asked. “Seems pretty steep for a seven mile ride.”
Releasing the steering wheel, he reached for her, but she jerked toward the door. Strong fingers tickled her. She twitched like she’d stuck her fingers in an electrical socket. “Marcus!” she cried. “Stop!” But as with his Harvard campaign, he was relentless, and soon she was gasping for breath while she swatted at him.
“All right,” he soothed and gripped her shoulder. “Truce.”
He dragged his hand up through her hair, and Briar closed her eyes, letting her chin fall to her chest. All of her tension drained away, just like that, beneath his hands.
Rain splattered against the windshield. Clouds. Rain. Cold weather. And Marcus’s hands on her.
Things were better than good. They were perfect.