Chapter 7
I stood there in the doorway, in an oversized hoodie that barely covered my thighs, staring at the five men who ruled the underworld like kings. I didn’t feel like a queen. I felt like a waitress who had just wandered into a den of wolves.
Roman was by my side a second later, his hand pressing gently to the small of my back. It was grounding, a weight that told the room I belonged to him. That I was under his protection, that I was his.
“Come,” he murmured near my ear, guiding me into the room. His brothers’ eyes followed us, each gaze so different, yet all of them sharp in their own way.
Viking was the one who made me tense first, his smile was rakish, his blond hair pulled back.
He has tattoos peeking from his collar like secrets waiting to be spilled.
There was a casual chaos in the way he sat, confident and completely unbothered, like the rules of the world never really applied to him.
He winked when I passed, and I almost tripped .
“She’s prettier up close,” he said with a crooked grin. “You are sure she’s not a dream, brother?”
Roman shot him a look that could level cities, but Viking simply held his hands up, still smirking.
“Kidding,” he muttered, but his eyes stayed on me like he was dissecting everything I was and everything I wasn’t yet.
"That's Viking, Vik for short," Roman introduces, his voice low but unmistakably proud. "He runs the businesses. He’s explosive as hell when provoked, but he never misses a detail."
Viking lifted his glass in a mock toast. "You're making me sound noble."
"Just efficient," Roman muttered, then gestured to the man seated like a shadow in the corner. "And that's Lucien, he trains the soldiers, makes sure our men are sharp, loyal, and ready to die for the family if they have to."
Lucien nodded once, cool and unreadable. "I make sure we don't bleed where we shouldn't." There was a gravity to him, an unshakable stillness that settled in my chest like stone .
"He doesn't talk much," Roman added. "But when he does, it's either an order or a warning." Lucien gave the barest smirk. "Sometimes both."
Lucien was colder, he was dressed in a crisp black shirt, his posture perfect, his jaw tight. He nodded once when our eyes met. His stare was calculating but not unkind, like he was measuring how much strength I carried and if it would be enough.
“You’ve entered a world that doesn’t forgive softness,” he said quietly. “But Roman chose you, that means something.” I couldn’t even speak, instead I just nodded.
Roman gestured toward the other brother before I could overthink it. "That's Volken. He's the strategist. The reason we stay five moves ahead of anyone trying to touch what's ours. If it needs planning, placement, or foresight, it's him."
Volken inclined his head, the barest sign of acknowledgment.
He looked the least dangerous at first glance, he was dressed in a sharp suit, silver-framed glasses, hands tucked neatly in his coat pockets.
But his eyes were surgical, Intelligent.
I could tell he was dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with fists and everything to do with strategy.
“We protect our own,” he said simply.
Roman turned slightly, gesturing to the screen mounted on the far wall. The video feed was still live, and the man on the other end hadn't moved much. His expression was blank, carved from stone, eyes dark and unreadable.
"And that," Roman said, "is Draugr. He’s not here in person because he’s cleaning up a mess at the southern border. He’s our enforcer, he is the one who deals with betrayal and ensures our rules are carved in blood."
Draugr’s voice came through, gravel-deep and cold. "If anyone threatens her, I’ll make sure they are dealt with."
I swallowed hard. He didn’t look like a man who made threats. He looked like a man who made promises.
“Layla,” Roman said beside me, voice low but commanding. “These are my brothers, they are my blood, and now they are your family too.”
My voice cracked as I answered, “Hi.” It felt ridiculously inadequate, but my mouth felt like sandpaper when surrounded by so much danger.
The energy in the room was thrift with danger, it wasn’t something any of them was doing but their presence alone was magnetic, and anyone that came into contact with anyone of these men was sure to feel their menacing presence.
Roman didn’t laugh, he didn’t even smirk.
"Later, Draugr," Viking said with a nod toward the screen.
"Be safe," Lucien added.
Volken gave a short wave, "Send a report when you're done."
Draugr gave the faintest nod, "Always." Then the screen flickered and went dark.
Roman straightened, "Alright, it’s dinner time. Let’s head to the dining room." The men moved without hesitation, each filing out with the quiet, instinctive rhythm of soldiers trained in blood and trust. Roman held back, his attention shifting fully to me.
His fingers brushed my elbow, guiding me gently but not forcefully. "Are you okay?" I know that he can feel my nervousness, but he is giving me the opportunity to back out of dinner with his brothers if I want to .
I hesitated, then looked up at him. "Still adjusting, it’s not every day that I am surrounded by Vampires, but... I'm okay."
He nodded, eyes scanning my face like he was trying to read the truth beneath my words. "If it gets too much, tell me. You don’t have to do this now if you don’t want to."
There was something in his voice, steel wrapped in warmth, that made me believe him.
Then, without another word, he took my hand, and we walked together into the dining room where his brothers waited, already seated, the scent of food spilling into the hall like a promise.
He took my hand and kissed my knuckles gently before guiding towards my chair.
The long, polished dining table was already set. The lights dimmed low enough to make the candlelight flicker across silver and crystal. The room smelled faintly of rosemary, garlic, and something else rich and mouthwatering.
The chef entered through the side door, a tall, elegant woman with dark skin, silver hair braided tight to her scalp, and a presence that could command an army. She bowed slightly to Roman and then gave me a warm smile .
“This is Amara,” Roman said. “She runs the kitchen, if you ever need anything, she’s who you go to.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said quietly.
“The pleasure’s mine,” she said, placing the first dish in front of me personally. I wasn’t used to being taken care of.
Roman’s hand brushed my thigh under the table, grounding me again. I noticed he didn’t touch any of his food at first, he just watched me.
“Eat,” he ordered softly.
I looked down at the plate, grilled steak, roasted vegetables, and something buttery and soft that melted on my tongue. My stomach, which had been tied in knots all day, rumbled embarrassingly loud.
Viking laughed. “She’s hungry, that’s a good sign as it means she’s real.”
Roman didn’t take his eyes off me. “She needs to eat, she’s barely had anything since she walked into Nightshade.”
I blinked. “You’ve been watching that closely?”
He leaned in, voice like silk-wrapped steel. “I watch everything about you. ”
Conversation around the table flowed as we ate.
Mostly the brothers discussing business, territory shifts, and border breaches.
I listened more than I spoke, trying to understand this new world I’d been pulled into.
I felt like an intruder, but every time I drifted mentally, every time fear started to creep back in, Roman would slide his fingers against mine beneath the table or brush my thigh.
It was just a simple touch, but it was a reminder that said, you’re here and you’re safe because you’re mine.
And slowly, bite by bite, moment by moment, I started to believe it.
Lucien set down his glass and turned his attention to me. "So, Layla," he said evenly, "what did you do before you walked into Roman’s life?"
I paused, wiping my mouth with my napkin before answering.
"I worked at a bar, you might know it, The Rusty Tap. It wasn’t anything glamorous; to be honest it was kind of a dive, really.
Just tips, no hourly pay. We’d get all sorts of customers, but mostly drunks.
Men who thought leaning too far over the bar made them more charming. "
Viking chuckled into his drink. "Sounds like a war zone. "
I gave a small laugh, then added without thinking, "Some would get handsy, but the bouncer usually stopped anything before it got bad."
The moment the words left my mouth, the air around Roman changed. I felt it first, the air was tight, charged, like a storm about to break. Then came the sound, a low, guttural growl that vibrated from his chest.
He was up from his chair so fast it scraped violently against the stone floor. The dining room went still. Roman didn’t say a word, he turned and stalked out of the room, muscles tight, fury simmering under every step.
I stared after him, my heart thudding.
"He’s angry," I whispered. "Is he angry with me?"
Viking stood, placing his napkin beside his plate. "Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll go check on him."
Lucien leaned in, his expression less cold now, more understanding. "He's not angry with you, Layla. He’s furious that other men touched you, even just the idea of it."
Volken folded his hands on the table. "You told a mated vampire that other men had their hands on what is his. Even if it was before he claimed you, his instincts don't care. You might as well have carved it into his skin."
My cheeks flushed with sudden shame; I hadn’t meant it that way. I was just talking, just answering a question.
I stood quickly. "I should go to him, I need to explain."
Volken shook his head, calm but firm. "Not yet, give him space. Let him burn it off before he sees you again. If you walk into that now, he won’t mean to scare you, but he will. Let Vik handle it."
I hesitated, heart hammering. But Lucien nodded in agreement.
"He won’t be gone long," Lucien said. "He just needs to remember he’s more man than monster when it comes to you. Besides he is close, he would never be too far away when you are around other men no matter who those men are."
So, I sat back down, nerves shot through with guilt and something heavier, the realization that I was no longer just a girl in a too-big hoodie. I was his, and that meant my past wasn’t just mine anymore, it belonged to his rage too.