“Ready?” Hudson asked, and her stomach clenched.
It was a short distance, twenty feet at most, and she was covered. Would she ever come not to fear the sun? “This sucks,” she whispered, and Hudson took her hand.
“It’ll be fast,” he said and nudged her forward. They hurried through the doors and into the day. One second, two, and she was in the car and the door shut.
The passenger side door opened, and Hudson jumped in.
“Where’s Sylvain?” she asked, and Marcus clenched his teeth. From her seat behind Hudson, she had a perfect view of his profile and couldn’t miss the muscle jumping in his jaw.
“He’s meeting us there.”
“Okay,” she answered, and settled back against the leather seat. A hand grasped hers, and she glanced over at Valen, who entwined their fingers.
“Are you doing okay?” he asked quietly. “You didn’t catch any sun, did you?”
“No. I’m good.” She couldn’t feel his skin beneath the gloves, and she wished she could take them off. There was always something stopping her from fully experiencing the world, and she resented it, even if it was just learning whether or not Valen’s fingers were calloused.
The traffic was heavy for this time of the morning, especially since they were headed north, except—“Marcus, you’re headed the wrong way. I’m north. This is east.” They should have been crossing the Charles River to head to Somerville, but instead the Charles was on their right as they drove along it.
Valen squeezed her hand, and when she met his eyes, he smiled a little nervously.
Nervously? Yes.
He couldn’t hold her gaze. He stared at the floor before glancing at her again. “What’s going on? Marcus?” The muscle in his jaw ticked again, and his hands clenched on the steering wheel.
Hudson smoothly turned in his seat. “It wasn’t safe.”
“What wasn’t safe? My apartment?” she asked. “Why? What did you learn? Did the police contact you? What did they say?” Words tumbled out of her mouth, and she found herself edging forward on the seat, pulling the safety belt to give her slack. Valen squeezed her once and released her hand.
“Someone snuck in your window, Briar, and nearly killed you. Not only that, the place was a fire hazard. Marcus said he’d never seen a place in such disrepair.”
“Marcus said that, did he?” Her words were a growl, and she stared daggers at the back of his head while he kept his gaze fixed on the road. Coward.
“So where are we going?” she asked.
“Marcus’s,” Hudson answered. “You can stay there.”
It took everything she had not to rip into them for their high-handedness, but the truth was, until she spoke to the police, she wasn’t sure she was ready to stay at the apartment right now.
She missed it; it was her home. But she wasn’t stupid. Once the police assured her, as she was certain they would, it was safe to return home, she would.
“That’s very nice of you,” she said, the manners bred into her since birth coming to the forefront. “Are you sure?”
Shoulders slumping, Marcus let out a breath and nodded. “Of course.”
“Should someone tell Sylvain? So he’s not waiting at my place?”
“He’s not,” Valen replied with false lightness.
Gritting her teeth, Briar realized she’d been hoodwinked. She’d believed Sylvain was at her place, and they let her believe it, because they were afraid to tell her about her apartment. “Why are you afraid of me?” she asked, and giggled before quickly sobering. “Don’t lie to me just because you don’t want to make me angry. I’ll be much angrier if you do.”
“In that case,” Valen began, but Marcus parking and her door opening cut him off. Sylvain stood there, smiling broadly. Both sides of his lips lifted, and she wondered what caused his good mood. A full smile? Maybe someone gave him a new ax or sharpened his chainsaw.
“Hi,” she said, greeting him with an answering smile. Who knew Sylvain could have an infectious good mood?
“Hi,” he answered, and reached into the car, lightly grasping her elbows, and tugged her out.
“Wow.” This was Marcus’s house? “Holy cow.”
“It’s not that fancy,” Marcus mumbled as he walked by and opened the door for them.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Briar said. “This place is amazing! You can see the water! I can—” She stood on her tiptoes and peered over the landing before going inside. “Nope. Well, it’s still really nice.”
With a laugh sounding a little forced to Briar’s ears, Marcus gestured for her to go inside. She did and sucked in a breath. “Everyone told me not to be a Ph.D. They said, I’d never make any money at it.” She spun around and put her hands on her hips. “They lied. And what does your place look like?” Pointing an accusing finger at Hudson, she tapped her toe. “Huh? Golden floors?”
Hudson chuckled but didn’t answer while Briar studied the interior, fascinated. Obviously, some work was being done to it. The plaster on one wall was patched, and it looked as if the floor had been gouged, but otherwise, it was beautiful. All dark wood floors and crown molding.
But as she glanced around, she noticed there were no personal touches, nothing that showed Marcus lived there. It was like a showcase house, perfectly decorated, but empty.
It made her ache for him. Even her tiny fire hazard had bits and bobs that made it unique.
“Let me show you your room,” Marcus said, interrupting her thoughts. “This way.”
He led her up a wooden staircase to the second floor and pointed down the hall. The staircase went up to another floor, and Briar leaned over the railing, glancing up. “How many floors is this place?”
“Three,” Marcus answered. “And servant’s quarters. Those rooms are tiny, and I don’t use them. I tend to seal off the floor in the winter so I don’t lose heat. These old houses are drafty.”
A thick carpet in deep reds and gold muffled their tread until he stopped at a door and opened it. Briar craned her neck, standing on her tiptoes to look over his shoulder when he stood in the doorway, and nearly fell over.
“I don’t understand.” There was her bed, made up with her sheets. Her bureau, with the framed photos of her family, sat against one wall, and her books and laptop were placed neatly on a desk.
Heavy brocade curtains hung from rods, blocking the light, but from what Briar could see, all of her belongings were in this room. “I don’t understand,” she said again, resting on her heels and staring at Marcus. “Why are all my things here?”
“It wasn’t safe for you there,” Marcus said, quietly, standing to the side when Briar walked inside, her head spinning.
“I know,” she answered. “I agreed to stay here, but Marcus, not forever. I’m not moving in.”
“Marcus was right.” Sylvain’s voice boomed behind her. “The apartment was unfit for residency. The city agreed with me, and the building’s tenants have all been relocated while the landlord brings it up to code.”
“What?” Briar didn’t want to be shrill, but her voice squeaked. “How—that was my home! You have no right to take my things and move me here without my permission! And where am I supposed to go? Do you know how hard it is to find a place in Boston? I started looking for apartments last year, and that was the best I could find.” Her head throbbed, and she rubbed her temples. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“You’ll stay here,” Sylvain answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
She glared at him. “No. I won’t.”
“You just said yourself,” Sylvain replied, “that it’s impossible to find housing in Boston on such short notice. The other tenants have been placed at long-term stay hotels, but we declined on your behalf. Marcus won’t accept rent, and there’s no need for you to stay at a place any less safe than the one you just left.”
“I—” For the first time in her life, words failed her. Southern manners bred into her since birth warred with he
r anger at the audacity and sheer presumption of these guys. Rather than spew that rage all over them, she stepped inside, turned to them, and shut the door in their faces. She didn’t slam it; she didn’t need to. Twisting the wrought iron key in the lock, she ignored the quiet knock from the other side.
Time was needed before she spoke to them again or else she would bring down the walls with shrieks.
Sighing, she surveyed the room. Her bureau was pathetic compared to the antiques that made up the room. Her bed had no head or footboard. It was merely a mattress and box spring on a metal frame. In her apartment, it had looked cozy, covered with her blanket from home and pillows she got at the same place she bought the bureau. There was no way her things, made of particleboard and plywood, could stand up next to the furniture Marcus had.
Briar walked over to the desk, pulled out the chair, and sat. Her laptop rested on top of a blotter, and she noted a pack of pens and sticky notes at the edge. Mashing her lips together, she tried not to care that someone had put extra thought into making her comfortable or preparing for her stay.
It wasn’t in her to hold a grudge, and she recognized an effort had been made. Anxious, she stood to examine the room. She opened one door, finding her clothes hanging. The second door opened to a bathroom that had her groaning in delight.
A clawfoot tub sat in the center of the tiled floor. At the side, bath salts and body lotion were arranged neatly. She popped the top on one, sniffed, and sighed. Holy cow.
What was that phrase? She tried to remember. When in Rome… If she was going to be spending the night, she might as well enjoy all the amenities.
Soon the sound of running water filled the small room. Distracted, she sat on the edge, holding her fingers beneath the steam as it heated. The shower at her apartment had been lukewarm at best, and at times reminded her of a mist, instead of a shower. She poured in the bath salts, and the room filled with the fragrant aroma of lily of the valley. Her eyes closed, and she stripped the clothes from her body quickly, sinking slowly. At the last second, she remembered the bandage on her throat, and popped up.
Placing her elbows on each edge, she closed her eyes and let her head rest against the back of the tub. What am I going to do with you guys?
She was really mad. That apartment was hers and hers alone, and if it was a death trap, she should have been the one to call the city.
In her mind’s eye, she saw her apartment. The grubby laminate that never really got clean no matter how hard she scrubbed. The boards on the stairs that rocked if she put her foot in the wrong spot. It was quirky, yes. But dangerous?
Sylvain wasn’t a liar. Even for as short a time as she’d known him, she got that he was an opportunist, and a bit of a mercenary, but he wouldn’t make something up to suit him. Therefore, if he said the apartment was a death trap, it was one.
Which left Briar with a problem. They’d gone above her head and treated her like she was unable to see reason. All they would’ve had to do was show her the issues in the apartment building and explain the danger. Instead, they’d taken her choice from her, like she couldn’t be trusted to do the right thing.
“Grrr.” She let loose a stream of air that caused the fluffy suds to pop in her face. Her mother had taught her to treat others the way she wanted to be treated, but she couldn’t expect they’d been brought up the same way.
Not to mention, even though they looked only a little older than her, they acted like men who knew a lot more of the world than a typical guy their age would.
Mind set on a course of action, her muscles relaxed. It was up to her to teach these guys some manners and to show them she was up to the task of decision-making. In the meantime, she was going to enjoy this bath and stay in the water until it cooled and she pruned. It wouldn’t hurt the guys to sweat a bit.
Chapter 19
Hudson
“Stop smirking at me, Hudson.” Sylvain paced away from Hudson, throwing himself into a nearby seat. When Briar hadn’t answered Marcus’s earlier knock, they’d gathered in the living room. Mired in their guilt, they’d sat, or paced, silently. Overhead, the water in the bath turned off, and Hudson heard the slosh of water against the sides of the tub.
Suddenly, he pictured Briar, hair lifted off her neck, pale, lithe body sinking beneath the water, and he couldn’t smother his groan. Marcus chuckled, and Hudson wiped his face clean of emotion.
“We hurt her feelings.” Valen perched on the arm of the chair next to Sylvain. His blond brother was never far from Sylvain. He no longer needed to keep up the pretense of staying away and seemed to be making up for lost time.
Valen and Sylvain were two sides of the same coin. Twins of dark and light born hundreds of years apart. Hudson was again struck by how much they’d given up.
“We’ll explain again,” Hudson said to Valen, falling back on facts. When all else failed, present arguments in black and white. Except, for the first time in a long time, Hudson wasn’t certain of logic and reasoning. Emotion clouded everything with Briar.
“Do you think she’ll be happy here?” Valen asked, and Hudson heard the unspoken question. Did Hudson think they could make her happy?
He didn’t know.
For so long, he hadn’t let himself feel anything. Even now, he was focused on how he thought Valen felt, or how Sylvain felt. He was doing everything he could not to think about himself.
“Grr.” The smallest growl echoed in the bathroom above their head. Briar’s soft voice with her smooth accent hid how tough she was.
“We should have asked her,” Hudson said, with dawning understanding about what they’d done. “We took her choice away. She’s a smart girl. We should have asked her.”
“Asking is a waste of time,” Sylvain argued.
“I’m going to apologize.” Decision made, Hudson strode toward the stairs, not bothering to glance back to see if anyone followed him. At the heavy door, he paused, tilting his head to listen closely. Briar must have pulled the stopper in the tub, because the sound of water rushing down the drain masked all other sounds.
It was pointless to knock. Her human hearing would miss the sound until the water drained completely. And then she may choose to ignore him. Hudson clenched his fists. He hated being at odds.
Beneath the door came a waft of lily of the valley scented air and the sound of Briar shuffling her feet across the floor. He hesitated before knocking. All he had was a half-formed plan, and he didn’t like it.
“Screw logic, Hud.” Marcus’s soft voice drifted to him from the landing, and he glanced over his shoulder. His oldest friend stood, hand on the railing, watching him closely. “Just see what happens when you speak from your heart.” With that, Marcus left him, moving so quickly he was gone in the blink of an eye.
Before he could stop himself, he knocked and waited.
“Hold on.” Briar’s voice was muffled, as if she had her face in her blanket. Like earlier, Hudson’s mind filled in the image, and he had to grip the door frame in order to keep from rushing inside, lock be damned, to see if what he pictured was a reality.
The door swung away, and he was caught in a cloud of lily and sunshine. All ability to speak left him. Nothing could have prepared him for Briar post-bath.
The heat left her natural scent even stronger. Mouthwatering. He curled his fingers into the wood, felt his nails sink past the shell and into the drywall.
Silently, Briar stared at him. She didn’t rush to fill the silence, merely watched and waited.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
The tiny pucker between her eyebrows signaling her annoyance smoothed away.
“I’m sorry,” he continued, “that we didn’t tell you what we were doing before we brought you here. It was disrespectful.”
“I’m not stupid,” she said.
Of course she wasn’t. "I never thought you were stupid. You’re brilliant. The way your mind works. The connections you make between ideas and theories.”
She held up a hand to s
top him. “You didn’t include me in a decision that affects me. All you had to do was explain. I would have understood.”
Wood shavings and drywall dust fluttered to the floor as he released his grip on the molding, and he prayed she didn’t notice. “I know,” he said, stepping forward. Immediately, she made room for him, gesturing for him to come inside. “In our defense, we went a little crazy when your safety was threatened.”
The scent inside the room overwhelmed him, and for the second time, he cursed his brainlessness. He should have stayed in the hallway. The hallway was safer.
Safer for whom?
His fangs descended, answering the question his mind had thrown at him.
“Why were you crazy? You barely know me.” In the corner of the room was an overstuffed chair, and she lowered herself to the cushion and curled her feet beneath her. “This, I don’t understand. You’re going out of your way for someone you just met.”
“It doesn’t feel that way,” Hudson answered. All this talk of feelings—how could he explain? “Perhaps it’s because I’ve been reading your emails for years. Your voice is familiar, even though I’m only hearing it now. I believe it is the same for my brothers.”
The first time he’d met Marcus, it had been the same. They’d become brothers, and then best friends, in no time.
Something about her settled at his explanation. Her smile was softer, and she nodded and leaned forward as he spoke. “It does feel like that.” She settled back into the chair, the oversized cushions dwarfing her narrow frame. “Next time, though, please ask me before you make choices that impact my life.”
Her words threw him back in time, and suddenly Annie’s voice screamed in his head. “You made my choices for me and stole everything!” He shut his eyes, but still he heard Annie’s scream.
“I’m so sorry.” He barely got the apology out. When he opened his eyes, he found Briar perched on the edge of her chair, reaching for his hand.
Like a dream, everything seemed to slow. Beneath her skin, he saw her blue veins, pulsing with blood, and then her warm hand enfolded his, squeezing. “Thank you,” she said.
Briar: A Reverse Harem Romance (Midnight's Crown Book 1) Page 15
