Awakening (Promiscus Guardians Book 1)

by Brianna West

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter One

  It was curiosity that killed the cat. Well, I say bah hum bug to them.

  I leered around the corner, my eyes focusing on the shadows of two very large men standing in a dark, deserted alley.

  My eyes had finally adjusted to the very little light, morphing their once solid mass into two separate entities.

  You might ask yourself why I, a five-foot-five-inch woman with no real fighting ability and even less of an ability for spying, would find myself here watching and waiting for two men whom I knew nothing about.

  Well, I don't really know myself.

  However, here I was, my hands numb with the cold and itching to find warmth within the shallow depths of my jean pockets as I acted every part of the innocent bystander and not the ease-dropping idiot.

  I had been here for about ten minutes since the two men had left our small town bar. And goddamn was it cold!

  Both men were equally eye-catching. One appeared almost angelic, his hair the color of pale morning light and eyes the color of the ocean. The other man was oppositely dark with black shoulder-length hair and eyes that glinted in the low illumination as if reflecting the light itself.

  The lighter one—I dubbed him Blondie—was slightly shorter, maybe six-foot in height with a long, fitted overcoat and dark faux leather pants. The darker one—dubbed similarly as Tall, Dark, and Handsome—was towering my five-foot-five-inch with his six-foot-four-inch, fashioning himself with a short-sleeved, guava-colored shirt and denim jeans that hugged incredibly delicious looking thighs.

  Not that I was looking or anything.

  Although, he had to be some kind of crazy to be wearing next to nothing in this weather. It was a prickling forty degrees outside with a cold blast of wind to help that feel like twenty below. I was once more wracked to the bone with shivers.

  Fuck, it was cold!

  Focus.

  My eyes darted backwards, as if I might catch the peeping tom peeping on this rather unskillful peeping tom (aka me).

  Hey, I don't know how to spy, but I understood enough to be observant of my overall surroundings which at the moment included one very dimly lit street light harboring nothing but an eerie glow and a partially paved street that melted into darkness.

  I concluded just how idiotic this situation I now found myself was. I could easily be murdered and no one the wiser to my disappearance.

  Shaking off my thoughts, I returned my focus to Blondie and Tall, Dark, and Handsome. I captured their soft voices floating down the quiet of the alley like they were on speaker phone.

  Speaking of phone, my hand dove into my pocket, pulling out my phone and quickly silencing it before it could be my undoing.

  Nattie was especially capable of drunk dialing, and I wasn't going to get murdered because she was prone to call me well into the evening, some may even say morning.

  “What of the disappearances?” Blondie said to his counterpart.

  His voice was—simply put—panty-wetting.

  Not that mine were. I mean, my panties were very much dry, but I suspect that after a good hour of his deep Russian accent, I'd need a new pair.

  Tall, Dark, and Handsome regarded Blondie with an eyebrow. I think. It was hard to discern facial expressions from my vantage point. “There have been twelve. None of which could be easily connected.”

  It was, to say the least, a very odd conversation to be having at eleven in the evening behind a bar called “The Bar.”

  And yes, I thought the name ridiculously obvious, but it was the only one in our little town. Besides, “The Bar” had the best bartender in the entire region; he was easy on the eyes and even easier on my bank account, with a mean whiskey sour.

  My dark hair fell into my face as I shifted my weight to the other leg, my right leg having become uncomfortably stiff. The soft breeze lifted my hair around the stone wall and into the alleyway; and suddenly, both men stiffened. I blinked with intrigue before the two disappeared from the alley like they had never been there.

  Where the fu—

  “Who are you?” a deep English baritone questioned angrily.

  My body immediately hit the brick wall I had used for cover, and the stone was like pressing my body into a block of ice. I groaned as my head pounded, and the soft trickle of what I could only conclude as blood trailed from a wound inflicted by the rough stone. The ice stone bit into my scalp as my attacker’s hand held me against it.

  “What?” I bit out against the overwhelming need to scream.

  I wasn’t about to further injure myself by attempting to fight back; I was clearly outmatched. Besides, I'm not exactly sure I'm not just hallucinating this entire night.

  Did they just disappear? That wasn't even possible; I mean, not really. Unless...

  Before I could stop them, the giggles burst from me. I felt the hand driving my head into the wall tense before I was turned with a force that nearly stole the breath from me, and subsequently thrown with inhumane speed back into my good old friend—wall. I gasped sharply, teeth chattering against both injury and cold. My vision was swaying as I was instantly face-to-face with Tall, Dark, and Handsome.

  He was beautiful, and would have been mouth-watering, if not for the fact that he was probably going to kill me. I wasn't picky, I mean not really, but killing me usually meant you were probably not my type.

  “Who do you work for?” he demanded.

  “Work for?” I asked breathlessly.

  I was doing my best to focus even though there were two of him, and my stomach was clenching impossibly, threatening to evict all its contents should I receive another blow. His question confused me, and if I were being honest, scared me shitless.

  “I do not know what you are,” he started in a voice that caused pure terror to well up inside of me. He was glaring at me with his deliciously dark eyes that I would have been enraptured with if not for the undeniable fact that they could be the very last things I saw before dying. “But be assured, I will kill you if you do not give me the name of your employer.”

  Okay, this was getting weirder by the minute.

  There was no denying that he could easily kill me—and apparently would if I didn’t answer correctly. His hold tightened. Or quickly, it seemed. However, the entire situation seemed too surreal to really think this could actually be happening.

  Did I fall asleep reading one of my paranormal romances and somehow dream this? I have to say, I had a very creative imagination. I stared at my captor for a moment before the movement behind him caught my eye.

  Red, glowing eyes flashed, startling a gasp from my throat. But before I could let the scream loose from my throat, Tall, Dark, and Handsome was parrying an attack instantly. And in the next moment, he became a blur in my vision.

  “Lucas!” I heard Blondie's voice call out.

  A flash of light exploded, causing me to become momentarily blinded. I shut my eyes tightly, touching the palms of my hands to the cold stone to keep me rooted.

  I felt faint, and not in the good way. I think the head blow was finally settling in. I fought to stay conscious, gripping the wall desperately as I moved in an effort to get away.

  I could hear shouts and sounds that were similar to animal growls but much deeper
and resonant. It was as if I was the main actress in some B-rated horror film because I'm sure I looked every bit the over-acting heroine.

  “Pavel,” a deep English accent echoed into the night, “get the girl!”

  My blood ran cold. I searched the darkness around me. I could see undiscernible shadows colliding. There were flashes of red glow trailing the air as if someone had taken a glow stick and ran through the dark with it. I was caught momentarily stunned by the sight before a hard grasp to my shoulder startled me out of my gaze.

  I turned to find Pavel—formerly Blondie—holding me with a cold stare and an even colder grip.

  “Come,” was all he said before he was dragging me towards god-knows-where.

  I fought his grip, my hands grasping his unyielding hand on my shoulder as I was led into the darkness, probably to the place he intended to kill me.

  Jesus! Why was I so nosy?! Why couldn't I ignore the hotties and just go home to my usual crowd, Ben and Jerry.

  I was stupid is why. I was stupid, and it was going to get me killed.

  We came to a clearing that was bathed in moonlight. The grass was glistening with frozen drops of late evening mist, and the beautiful landscape would have otherwise enraptured me with awe if not for my impending doom.

  Pavel looked like a fallen angel with his pale blonde hair contrasting the dark around him, and his body standing large and imposing in the midst of a vast field of grass. His stature spoke volumes of his confidence that we would not be discovered here by prying eyes—and he was without a doubt right.

  Fields of grass in this part of town were only visited by the local wildlife at this hour. And I doubt that some passing deer would fancy saving me from this beast.

  Even Bambi wasn’t that brave.

  Nope, I had to take down this brute my own damn self.

  I was prepared to fight to the end despite knowing it wouldn’t do me any good since I was clearly outmatched in strength and skill. But I was a woman capable of limitless, hopeless optimism, so I would not go down without a fight.

  I might do little more than roughen up his brand name clothing, but goddammit, I would do it in earnest!

  I fought the tilt in my vision. My vision had become blurry, and my voice was probably slurring as a result of the head trauma. “Bring it on, Blondie. I won't die without scratching off that smug look on your face, you angelic bastard.”

  Thinking back, it was probably not the best policy to both insult and compliment someone in hopes of appearing tough, but there was no going back at this point. I was about to bring it!

  His eyebrow rose a fraction before a side of his gorgeous lip upturned to my defiance. “And then you will lose.”

  “Sure,” I concurred easily.

  Jesus that sounded lame.

  Another thing, agreeing with your soon-to-be killer was probably not the best course of action either.

  Man, this head injury was really starting to take its toll.

  “But I'm sure to leave a mark before I go,” I added, hoping to recover some of the dignity I was losing purely with my weak fighting stance and harsh, labored breathing.

  Not to mention all these lame ass responses I was contriving in the face of this beautiful man. His gorgeousness was evidently making me go brainless.

  So instead, I took advantage of his obvious amusement at the puppy barking at his heels to pull out the mace from my back pocket, where I stored it for emergencies.

  With practiced grace, or what I thought seemed graceful for a person harboring a head injury, I sprayed a generous amount in his smirking mug. Delight turned to rage as his eyes caught the spray dead on. I coughed when the wind subsequently blew some of the spray my direction.

  Wheezing and stumbling sideways, I took my only opportunity thus far to escape. I ran like I had never ran in my life which was not saying much since I abhorred exercise—especially running.

  I was smirking—sure—but only because I felt like I had gained a small upper hand.

  Mace was a popular weapon for a woman in her defense, but not many carried it these days. I had it as more of a joke than anything.

  Nattie thought it was an amazing and entirely underrated prank gift for my twenty-first birthday. Six years later, I was thanking my best friend and her need for a good joke; it had served me well.

  My breathing grew labored, and my vision teetered.

  Holy hell, I needed to jog more!

  If not for my overall physique, which was lacking at the moment due to too many trips to the local bakery which served donuts of every size and make, then at least for my survival of crazy hot killers that I had the misfortune of drooling over and partially ease-dropping on.

  I felt the ground beneath me disappear and a sense of lightness before I was colliding with a cold, wet ground. For the second time that evening, the wind was knocked from me.

  My body hit the ground so hard that it jolted with the impact, pain fraying throughout me and reminding me that the ground was not my friend. My vision swam with swirls of pale blonde hair and smirking dark angels, fading in and out of view. I lost consciousness.

  --

  My body felt heavy. I was pretty sure if I was dead, I’d feel as light as a feather, right? I would not be able to feel my fingers, which were currently touching something soft.

  Clouds, perhaps? Was I in heaven?

  I curled said fingers, testing the softness that they touched, and it yielded against me. Okay, it felt like a throw that I would have in my bedroom.

  I opened my eyes hesitantly. The room was dark around me, but I immediately observed that my surroundings were unfamiliar. I would never own a Victorian period vanity mostly because I preferred simple furniture, and more specifically, cheap furniture.

  Suffice to say, I was not in my one bedroom apartment. I didn't have an ancient father clock either—that I knew of. I was pretty sure if I did have one, it wouldn't have been in my room because that’s just plain annoying. Who wanted a clock chiming the hour in their bedroom?

  I wouldn’t even let Nattie set her alarm when she stayed over. Despite the fact that she partied every night, she did have a day job, and it woke her early.

  I sat up slowly despite my body protesting the movement. My question was answered; last night really did happen. That, or I acted out my dream and ran wild through the streets. Either way, I was in pain.

  I grimaced as I held my pounding head, hoping to calm the raging storm inside of it.

  “So you are awake,” a voice asked.

  I jerked at the sound of a voice that was as deep and as impressionable as it was in my dream. Or not dream. Well, whatever it was, it was clearly memorable.

  I glanced towards where the voice had come from and found the figure of a man towering in the door frame at the far end of the room.

  Fabulous. I had been kidnapped by Tall, Dark, and Handsome.

  “Surprisingly,” I replied, my voice hoarse with probably more pain than sleep. I hurt like a bitch...everywhere.

  “Surprisingly?” he questioned as he made his way into the room.

  I scooted closer to the head of the bed, putting as much distance as I could between us.

  “I was sure that you would have killed me by now.”

  You or Blondie.

  “Should I have?” his tone was light, but his eyes expressed the seriousness of the question.

  “You tell me,” I growled. “I mean, I don't think I deserved to die purely for ease-dropping, but I guess we all have our standards.”

  He watched me through dark eyes that pulled me in as deeply as if I had been caught in the current of the ocean. His large arms crossed against his well-defined torso. I could practically see the muscles straining against the shirt as he silently watched me.

  Well, this wasn't awkward.

  I knew I was his captive, but somehow it felt like I should be proving my innocence by the way he gazed at me.

  “You really are unaware of just what you stumbled upon last eve?” he ask
ed with a bemused tone.

  My eyebrow rose in response to his rhetorical question, which I felt almost inclined to scoff at.

  Who the hell speaks like that? No one. It was an old use of the language. Maybe as a result of his clear origins, he thought it made him sound superior? Actually, it totally did, and despite my best efforts to appear nonchalant, it intrigued me.

  I shook off my interest and answered his question honestly. I had a tendency to stick my foot in my mouth, and I got the impression that it would not be tolerated by Tall, Dark, and Handsome.

  “Not really.” My voice was strong though my insides were twisted with fear. “I only knew that it was an odd conversation to be having in an alley.”

  “What were you hoping to gain from overhearing our conversation?” he questioned accusingly.

  “I don't know.” He didn't seem to accept this answer by the thinning of his lips and tightening of his jaw. “I honestly was just curious. Two very—um—striking men leave the bar together and are meeting secretly behind it. You do the math.”

  “I fail to see your reasoning.” His eyes bore into my own, and I found myself fidgeting under the gaze.

  “It was suspicious.” And very possibly gay, but I left that bit out as I returned his gaze with renewed confidence. “I followed you since I was interested to see what you might be...up to...and found you in the alley. I barely heard anything at all, I swear.”

  He pondered my response, his eyes searching my own as he weighed my response with his own memory of the event. Or so I imagined.

  To be honest, I was already lost to the overall direness of our situation with the pure attraction I felt for the man before me.

  He had not killed me, so that had to count for something, right?

  Nattie always complained that I had horrible taste in men, but I happen to believe my taste was simply unhindered by the typical high standards women held for men.

  My beating heart and unbound limbs spoke volumes to me already. Besides, for some very odd reason, I felt like I could trust him even though he had nearly given me a concussion with the head bash to last night's wall.

  Now that there was a little more light than before, I could discern his features better. Oh, and did I discern them.