“I still have my ear?”
God. Humans were too fragile. He had burned before, melted the skin to the bone. Within hours it had regrown, not a scar remained from any damage done to his body since being turned.
“You do,” he answered. “The lobe is red. The worse burn is on your neck.”
“We have a plastic surgeon on call, Miss Hale. We’re going to transfer you to the burn unit, and he’ll meet us there.”
“How did you get your scar?” she asked, not appearing to have heard the doctors.
He chuckled. Received well before he was turned, he’d carry it for eternity. It had been a long time since he’d thought about it, but now he raised his finger to his eyebrow, tracing its length. “A brother.”
“Marcus?” she asked, and he froze.
“Marcus?”
“He said you were family, brothers. Did he do that to you?”
It took him a moment to find his voice. “No. Marcus—no. I was a boy. Made my younger brother so angry he threw a hatchet at me. Took us both by surprise.”
“A hatchet?” she asked, eyebrows lifting. “Like an ax?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Briar, we’re going to give you some medicine to relax you. It may make you sleepy.”
“Okay,” she answered, eyes still on his scar. “You’re lucky you didn’t lose your eye.”
Her scent changed, becoming more metallic and hiding the familiar smell of apple blossoms. It filled the room, and as her eyes closed, the other scents suddenly slapped him in the face. As her fingers loosened and her hand fell away, Sylvain’s predator came alive. Five heartbeats, pumping blood, thudded in his ears. The smell of their blood called to him.
The paramedics would be first. One by one, the predator chose his victims. He’d drain them for hurting Briar. After, he’d take care of the nurses and doctor. He wouldn’t kill them, but he’d weaken them so when they awoke, they’d have no idea what had happened.
A low rumble left his chest, jerking him to a halt. He couldn’t murder a room full of medical personnel. “I’m stepping out,” he told a nurse, his voice rough.
Without waiting to hear her answer, he burst out of the room, and was hit in the face with the overwhelming smell of blood. The chaos of the emergency department assailed him.
Prey was everywhere.
Holding his breath, he stared at the floor and rushed through the ward before he burst outside. He sucked in air, but it was tinged with too much humanity.
There was no choice but to run. If he didn’t want to become a mass murderer, he had to put distance between himself and the hospital. Taking off, the world became a blur. His senses wanted to expand outward, taste the air, zero in on the sounds of the city, but he blocked the impulse, running as fast and as far as he could. He didn’t stop until he reached the ocean.
He leapt, diving into the water, kicking his feet to propel him deeper and deeper beneath the waves. There, in the murky depths, with no air, the blackness so complete it could be space, his predator finally settled.
Slowly, he got control of himself. He would not murder the stupid humans, he would not hold their flailing limbs over fire to teach them a lesson.
Expelling the air from his lungs, he floated to the surface, blasting out a mouthful of water and shaking his hair out of his face.
“Nice day for a swim.” On the shore, Valen watched him with narrowed eyes, his tattooed arms folded over his chest. “Care to explain?”
Sylvain flipped onto his back, staring up at the sky. He kicked, diving beneath the water and swam smoothly toward Valen until his feet touched the sandy bottom.
Drenched, he slogged to the shore, making sure to shake his hair and soak his friend. “Dammit, Sylvain!”
Sylvain ran his hands through his hair, pulling it to one side and squeezed the ends. “I needed a break.”
“From what, old friend?”
“Humans. I didn’t murder any. You’re welcome.”
Valen chuckled. “Well done, then.”
“But I need your clothes now. I have to go back to the hospital.”
“No way!” Valen burst out, and Sylvain smiled at the modern phrase.
“I can’t go back in wet clothes, I’ll make a scene.” He enjoyed the look of shock on Valen’s face.
“You can come to my house. I have clothes there.” Marcus stepped across the sand, and Sylvain growled.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I was tracking something, but I lost the trail. Strange coincidence finding you both here,” Marcus began. “But I’m glad.”
Valen glanced over at him, and Sylvain shrugged. Damned if he knew what Marcus meant. “Let’s go.” Sylvain didn’t have time to decipher Marcus’s bullshit. Briar could awaken any minute, and he needed to get back there.
“Why do you need to go to the hospital?” Marcus asked as he led the way to a row of brownstones. Glancing around him, Sylvain realized he’d run to Back Bay. Marcus would have to live in the ritziest part of town.
“I just do.” No reason to share his secrets.
He followed Marcus up the steps, waiting for him to unlock the heavy wooden door and lead them into a gleaming entryway. He stood for a moment, dripping on the floor, filled with a sick satisfaction about dirtying the pristine interior.
“This way,” Marcus said, without mention of the dripping or the fact that Sylvain and Valen still wore their boots. Inordinately disappointed, Sylvain followed him.
“Hey.”
“Fuck.” Sylvain didn’t need to turn around to know Hudson was behind him. How had he not scented their oldest brother when he’d entered the house? “Are you fucking kidding me?” He spun to face Marcus. “I need a shirt, not a god damned family reunion. Forget it. I’ll just rob someone.”
Spinning on his heel, he strode to the door, but Hudson stepped in front of him.
“Out of my way,” he said through gritted teeth. Already he was making plans. He could grab a human, steal his clothes and toss him in an alley. If this asshole got out of his way, he could make it back to the hospital in a matter of minutes.
“Sylvain. Wait. I want to talk to you.” Holding out his hands, Hudson’s eyes entreated him to listen. For a second, he was tempted. And curious. As if Hudson could see his indecision, he attacked. “I want to talk to you both.” Hudson’s gaze flicked to Valen. “To ask your forgiveness.”
Sylvain didn’t know how to respond. Never had he expected to hear those words leave Hudson’s mouth. His brother stared at him, eyes wide with honesty. What the hell was happening? Where was his cold, distant brother?
This was not the Hudson of the past two hundred years.
This is your brother. A memory assaulted him of Hudson seated across a candlelit table, laughing at some story Valen told while Marcus cracked jokes from the other end.
Shaking his head, Sylvain dislodged the vision. “Why?” It wasn’t the question he meant to ask, or even what he meant to say. Fuck off, or get out of my way, had been on the tip of his tongue.
“I owe you an apology,” Hudson replied. He glanced at Marcus. “For Annie, for abandoning our family, for throwing it away.”
For Annie. Sylvain shook his head. “Don’t talk about her.” He couldn’t bear it. None of them knew the amount of courage it had taken him to fall in love with Annie. After everything he’d lost in his human life, Annie was supposed to be his redemption. Instead, she was the one who hammered the nail into his heart, making sure it stayed dead.
“Sylvain. I know—we all know—what you lost as a man. I never meant for it to happen again.”
Deep inside him, his dead heart thumped. Placing a hand over it, he dug his fingers into his chest. “Please stop.” He couldn’t take it. The only way to endure this life was not to care.
But you already care.
These thoughts were tearing him apart. First Briar, now his brothers. It was too much. “I can’t.”
“I accept your apology,” Val
en said to Hudson.
“Of course you do, you’ve never lost anything,” Sylvain snapped.
“Never—” Wide-eyed, Valen dropped his crossed arms and pushed Sylvain against the wall. “You think I’ve lost nothing?” He shoved him again, tossing him through the sheetrock into the bricks behind them. “You selfish bastard.”
“Selfish?” Sylvain shook the dust from his hair and launched himself at Valen. Together, they fell onto the stairs, breaking the railing. Sylvain caught a fist across his face, and he tasted blood. It awoke the predator, who’d been watching the fight with interest. With a roar, he leapt to his feet, releasing the berserker who was always ready to throw down.
Valen answered his roar with one of his own, and they attacked one another with renewed vigor. And glee.
Sylvain couldn’t remember feeling so good. Each hit he took sent stars exploding through his brain. Eventually, though, Marcus and Hudson waded into the melee and dragged them apart.
“Just like the old days,” Marcus joked, winking at Hudson who shrugged.
“Are you ready to listen?” Valen asked, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand. Before his eyes, the gash on Valen’s forehead knitted, and his nose, which was mashed in the center, reshaped itself.
He was, but no way would Sylvain say it. Instead he stood, arms crossed, glaring at the floor. With not a small amount of pride, he noticed long, fresh gashes in the mahogany floor.
“Can we be a family again?” Hudson approached him, but Sylvain merely glared at the floor. “Will you forgive me and be my brother?”
Forgive him.
The truth was, the blame didn’t rest on Hudson’s shoulders more than the rest of them. He’d let Hudson believe it, because it was easier that way. Hudson’s guilt kept him far away from Sylvain, and nothing punished him more than the absence of his brothers.
Rubbing his neck, he winced when he dragged his hand across puncture marks. “You son of a bitch, Valen.” He met his brother’s smug face. “You bit me.”
“I was trying to make you throw a punch. Each blow you landed felt like a kiss.” Valen puckered his lips, and Sylvain jerked toward him, but Hudson slapped a hand on his chest.
“Even now, you need your brother to keep you safe,” Valen goaded. “I won’t hurt him too badly, Hudson. You can let our baby brother go.”
“Baby brother…” Sylvain swiped Hudson’s hand off his chest. “You—”
Valen stepped forward, and smacked Sylvain’s shoulder, cupping his arm and dragging him forward into a bone-crushing hug. “I missed you, brother.”
“You’ve been dogging me for two hundred years. What the hell are you talking about?”
The behemoth rustled his hair and shoved him away. “Tell Hudson you forgive him.”
Throwing his gaze to the ceiling, Sylvain sighed. “I fucking forgive you. Now I need to go. Get me the fancy fucking clothes you promised me, Marcus, and get out of my way.”
“What’s at the hospital?” Marcus asked, opening a closet and throwing him a pair of jeans and t-shirt.
Shrugging out of his clothes, he threw his wet shirt at Valen’s face, where it landed with a slap.
“Briar?” Valen dragged the shirt to his nose, breathing in deeply. “Hurt.” Valen strode toward him, menace in every step. “Why is she hurt?”
“Burned.”
His words threw his brothers into a tailspin; they shouted questions at him, except for Marcus, who bolted through the door.
“I forgot,” Hudson spoke through clenched teeth. “She was supposed to come to my office today for a book. I didn’t even remember.”
“She wouldn’t have made it.” Sylvain remembered the girl’s voice when she told him what someone had done to her. “She was injured this morning.” He buttoned the jeans and shoved his feet back into the wet boots.
“I want to see her,” Valen stated.
“Fine,” Sylvain answered. “Let’s go.”
“Are we running or driving?” Hudson grabbed a set of keys from the side table.
“Running,” he and Valen answered at the same time, and he smiled. Brothers.
Chapter 14
Marcus
One thought repeated over and over in Marcus’s brain as he blurred through the city streets. He’d left her. He’d left her.
First, he’d nearly fed on her, and then he’d left Briar, unprotected. Not knowing how she’d been injured didn’t stop him from heaping the blame on himself. Somehow, he was responsible. He knew it.
The hospital was busy, humans streaming in and out of the doors, their scent teasing his senses. Last night, after leaving Briar, he’d hunted, gorging himself on the animals he found in the forests of western Massachusetts. A trip that would have taken humans hours in a car, with his speed and stamina, took only minutes. Animal blood could fill him, provide him with the necessary requirements for survival, but it didn’t slake his thirst.
There was only one thing that would, he suspected, but he could never let it happen. He’d never let himself feed from Briar. No matter what.
“Briar Hale,” he replied to the nurse sitting at the desk in the emergency department.
“Are you family?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered. He was a doctor well versed with the rules and regulations of hospitals, and not above lying to find the answers he needed.
“She’s been transferred to the burn ward,” the nurse replied, and pulled out a map and highlighter to show him where it was.
“Thanks,” he answered, forcing himself to slow. The hospital was full of cameras, and unlike the ancient belief that vampires couldn’t appear on film, or in mirrors, the opposite was true. The last thing he and his brothers needed was to be recorded flashing from one room to another. He jogged through the hospital, cursing the need to go human speed. Then, after he pushed the button for the elevator, cursed human technology, which was still slower than he could move as a vampire.
“Briar Hale?” he asked, as soon as he exited the elevator. He had no compunction about ignoring the humans waiting patiently for the nurse’s attention. If they chose to follow the rules, that was on them.
“Room two—”
The elevator doors dinged behind him, and he smelled them, metallic and stale: soldiers.
Whirling to face them, he froze when he saw their faces, and who they protected. It couldn’t be.
“Asher.” His maker. How was he able to walk around during daylight? With soldiers, no less, who should be sleeping?
“Marcus.” No one who saw Asher Olympus would know they stared at a being as old as recorded time. “Hello.”
The humans, the sights and sounds of the hospital, all of it blended into the background. It was noise and haze.
“What are you doing here?” What are you doing alive?
Asher cocked his head, gesturing to a window. It was useless to deny his request. Nothing would stop the ancient vampire if he decided to kill Marcus and murder the entire wing of the hospital. He was powerful enough to wipe it all out before the humans realized what was happening and were able to grab their cell phones.
“There’s been a disturbance in the force,” Asher began, and catching Marcus’s open-mouthed shock, laughed. It would fool anyone who listened. They’d think him witty, good-natured, but they’d be wrong. The vampire camouflaged himself like the deadliest of animals. He wrapped sophistication and culture around his shoulders, but it was all an act.
At his heart, Asher was the purest form of evil Marcus had ever encountered.
“Did you do this?” Marcus asked.
“Did I do what? Give you eternal life, and receive nothing from my sons but hatred and disgust?” The smile left his face. Asher would never be anything but youthful. His appearance—broad shoulders, long, dark hair, and golden, gleaming skin—would never change. It was only when Marcus met his eyes that he saw the true age of the vampire. In their black depths was nothing but ice. “Do you mean, have I watched and waited for four hundred yea
rs for my opportunity? Yes. I did do that.”
Marcus swallowed. There was nothing in this universe he feared like he did Asher. No matter how many centuries passed, the vampire still had the ability to make him feel weak and useless.
“But what are you doing here, son?” Was it possible Asher hadn’t hurt Briar? Were the crawlers and soldiers he smelled around her apartments due to coincidence? “Shouldn’t you be with your newly reunited family, and not here, distracted by dinner?”
Question answered. “You did this.”
“Of course I did, you stupid fool.” Waving a hand, the vampire brushed off his question with an annoyed flutter. “Consider it a warning.”
“A warning?”
“Yes, a warning. Return to me, or I’ll destroy everything you care about.”
“I just met her.” Marcus was grasping at straws, but even if Briar had been someone to whom he’d lent fare for the bus, Asher would kill her without hesitation. All he had to do was show kindness, and his maker, his father, smote that thing, or person.
“Tell your brothers.” Without a backward glance, they disappeared. Technology would prove to be no hurdle for him. Asher was powerful enough to appear merely a blip on camera.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened, revealing his brothers. Hudson’s nostrils flared, and his pupils expanded, turning the blue to black. “Asher.”
“Impossible.” Valen choked.
Sylvain didn’t answer. He dashed past them, elbowing Marcus in his haste. Striding after him, Marcus realized how often he hid his vampiric side. His first instinct had been to ask the nurse for the number of Briar’s room, rather than follow her scent, like Sylvain did now.
The wildflower aroma was faint, overlaid with pain and medicine. Sylvain opened a door, pausing briefly to glance back at them before walking inside. Valen closed in on him, but he and Hudson were last, and he had to elbow his way forward. The room was small, and Marcus suddenly felt like a giant. Shoulder to shoulder, he and his brothers took up most of the space that wasn’t taken up by the hospital bed in which Briar lay.
Briar: A Reverse Harem Romance (Midnight's Crown Book 1) Page 11
