Chapter 10 Weight of Exhaustion #2
I met his eyes, the exact shade of gingerbread, but found only honesty. Still, the embarrassment lingered, and I pulled the shirt tighter around me, the fabric a fragile barrier against the world.
“I’ve been taking care of your fur baby, too,” he added with a grin. “Ready for him?”
I nodded with a tiny smile, which made his grin widen as he settled Brumous next to me. I latched onto the wolf pup, loving his soft warm fur and happy kisses, although the blond didn’t seem to like it, if his scowl was anything to go by.
“Gently, animal,” he scolded.
“We brought you some broth and bread.” The dark one waved at the tray the blond had set up on the dresser. “We’ll cook you up a feast when you’re feeling better, but this should fill your stomach without making you nauseous.”
“Thank you. You won’t, ah.” I bit my lips for a second and squeezed Brumous tighter. “You won’t send me back, will you? Please don’t send me back.”
“No, beloved,” the same man was quick to say as the other two turned into statues. “Never. You’re staying here with us.”
Since I didn’t want to say thank you again, I just nodded.
Why were they being so nice? Eluned said my husband would throw me out like trash, yet here they were, taking care of me.
I hadn’t expected vampires to be so civil.
“We can see you’re tired,” the blond murmured. “We’ll check on you again in an hour.”
“If you need anything, though, just call out,” the black-haired man added. “We’ll hear you.”
“Or set the pup loose.” The redhead gave me a crooked smile. “He’ll find me.”
“Okay.” I waited until they left, then laid down and curled around Brumous.
Confusion, fear, and a reluctant curiosity swirled inside me, but in the end, sleep muffled all of them. Not even my hunger could keep me awake.
“Three husbands.”
I hugged Brumous, a few tears falling into his fur.
“Please be kind,” I whispered. “Please be decent. And please, please, don’t hurt me.”
#
Zane
The door clicked shut behind us, but none of us moved from the hallway. The girl’s voice had been gauze-thin, a frayed ribbon of sound as she thanked us for patching her up. Now, standing there like three idiots from a rom-com montage, we listened as her breaths turned slow and deep.
“Three husbands.” A wet hitch in her voice. “Please be kind. Please be decent.”
The silence thickened.
Koa’s shoulder brushed mine as he leaned closer to her closed door. Cas stood frozen, the living equivalent of a “Do Not Touch” sign. Me? I was already cataloguing the ways those simple sentences could rot my heart.
“Kind” didn’t sound like a compliment. More like a participation trophy dressed up as a wedding vow.
Then her exhale seeped under the door.
“And please, please, don’t hurt me.”
Koa was gone before I could blink, fists so tight that I knew his nails were cutting crescent into his palms. Cas stalked after him, no less angry, but far better at controlling it. I lingered, laying my forehead on the mahogany that separated me from my whole world.
No one will ever hurt you again, sweet girl, I silently vowed, pressing my lips to the door. And anyone who tries? Well, strawberries jam, but my guns don’t.
I caught up to the others in the foyer, where floor-to-ceiling windows framed the forest. Cas was pacing a trench into the marble, muttering logistics under his breath: Supplies, security protocols, how many times he’d need to disinfect the guest room after the pup’s inevitable potty accidents.
Organization, his go-to avoidance strategy.
“So,” Ko said, perching on the arm of a leather sofa. His voice carried that deceptive calm, like a tidal wave deciding whether or not to drown us today. “She called us mates.”
“She’s concussed.” Cas froze mid-step.
“Shifters use that term,” Ko pressed. “Not humans. Not dhampirs. Not vampires.”
“Like Z said, she doesn’t smell like a shifter.” Cas’ knuckle dug between his eyes like he could physically erase the conversation. “I don’t sense an animal spirit.”
“Yeah, and dhampirs don’t get beloveds at all, according to the brochure.” I flopped onto the couch, toeing off my boots. “Yet here we are.”
“This isn’t a joke.” Cas cut his eyes at me.
“Never said it was, but guess what, Casimir? She’s ours. All three of us. That’s not a cosmic typo.” I spread my hands, channeling my best game-show host energy. “Maybe the universe finally upgraded operating systems. Multiplayer mode now unlocked!”
Ko snorted, but Cas’ frown deepened.
“Dhampir bonds don’t work like that. They’re exclusive. Singular.”
“And yet.” Ko gestured upstairs, where her presence hummed in my veins like a second heartbeat.
“If Arabesque sent her as a decoy or a spy—”
“Oh, please.” I lobbed a throw pillow at Cas’ head. He dodged on reflex. “You saw her injuries. Those weren’t from climbing the ladder of Dark witch hierarchy.”
“She’s terrified.” Koa’s jaw flexed. “Of everything, including us, but even more frightened of where she came from.”
“Exactly!” I sprang up, nearly tripping over my discarded boots. “Whoever tossed her into our yard like a used napkin didn’t stick around for cocktails. That’s not how you send a political pawn. That’s how you dump evidence and hope it doesn’t float.”
Cas’ pacing stuttered. For a split second, I saw it, the crack in his control. The same flinch he’d had at seven, when Lucian first called us “strategic assets” instead of sons.
“Cas, come on.” Koa leaned forward. “We’ve always shared everything. We even talked about it before and thought it’d happen like this, if it happened at all—”
“I am not talking about sharing! I’m good with sharing!
It has nothing to do with sharing!” Cas whirled, ponytail swinging like a whip.
“What if she’s not the bride? What if she’s a maid Father hired to work here?
Worse, what if she’s a maid Arabesque hired?
What if our real bride shows up while our beloved is here?
What if this is a trap to make us violate the truce? What if—”
I smacked the back of his head, and he spun, eyes blazing.
“What the hell?”
“Congratulations!” I spread my arms wide. “You’ve just won ‘Most Creative Self-Sabotage by a Control Freak!’ Collect your prize!” I yanked another pillow off the couch and whacked him in the face with it. “A one-way ticket off Bullshit Island.”
Ko muffled a laugh into his fist as Cas glared at the pillow like it owed him money.
“This isn’t—”
“She’s. Our. Beloved,” I cut in, dropping the smirk. “Truce or no truce, vampire diplomacy or Arabesque’s mind games, none of it changes the fact that every time I look at her, my heart—”
My throat cinched too tightly to say it.
Silence.
“We protect what’s ours.” Ko stood, rolling his shoulders. “End of story.”
Cas opened his mouth, probably to argue about protocols or vampire law or whatever, but I jabbed a finger at him.
“Nuh-uh. Save the fang-rotted politics lecture. We’re not rejecting her to play nice with Pops’ enemies.”
“He’s not going to reject her, Z. He can’t anymore than we can.” Ko stepped between us, a human shield in a plain gray tee. “He’s saying that our beloved is Arabesque’s first move on the chessboard, and we need to be ready for what comes next. Use that head to do more than grow fireweed on.”
“Bro!” I scoffed. “I offer charm, tactical brilliance, and exceptional cheekbones. But nooo, it’s always a jibe at the hair.”
Meanwhile, my brain was running on all cylinders. It took a minute, maybe five, but I got there in the end.
Free of the vampire court, we were immune to the truce, yeah, but that meant it was true on Arabesque’s side, too. She could mess with us to her heart’s content and not violate the terms of the treaty.
That pissed me off.
“She wants a moon-damned war?” My eyes darted from Ko to Cas. “Fine. She’s got one. But she doesn’t get our girl.”
“Never,” Ko agreed.
“We need intel,” Cas sighed. “It’s crucial to our planning to know if our beloved is our bride.”
“There’s my favorite pessimist!” I grinned, slinging an arm around his stiff shoulders.
“You’re insufferable.” He shrugged me off, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
“And yet you love me.” Ducking as he swatted at my head, I waved a hand toward the kitchen. “C’mon. Let’s brainstorm over snacks. I vote for nachos.”
Ko took off, calling dibs on guacamole. Cas lingered by the stairs, gaze flicking upward to where our lady slept. For a heartbeat, his mask slipped to show raw fear, sharp as shattered glass. Then he straightened his cuffs and marched after Ko, already dictating a toppings list.
As they bickered about jalapenos, my chest tightened. Three bastard dhampirs. One broken bride. And a furry protector with very sharp things at five of his six ends.
Best. Rom-com. Ever.
#
“What did the ’goyles at the gates have to say?” Koa asked as we dug into our snacky snacks.
“They have two orders from Father.” Casimir’s jaw worked like he was chewing glass, not delicious loaded nachos. “Detain any intruder who enters the property between moonrise and moonset.”
“So we have a whole damn dungeon to interrogate?” Ko lit up at the prospect, only to deflate when Cas shook his head.
“None. Today, the only car they saw before us was a black Mercedes with three women and a dire wolf pup that drove up to the house, stayed for eight minutes and twelve seconds, then left with only two of the females.”
“Our beloved being delivered,” Ko rumbled. “Cruor! I can’t wait to get my hands around the necks of those two bitches, whoever they are.”
“What was their second order, Cas?” I prompted before his anger uncontained itself.
“Their loyalty transferred to us when we moved in.”
“Cool, cool.” I built a towering topping pile on a tortilla chip and wedged it into my mouth. “Now wha abou ouh goul?”
“Swallow before speaking, you crustacean,” Cas scolded. “And about our girl, we proceed carefully. Arabesque could have deep claws in her. Claws that we may have to extract delicately.”