Chapter 1
Rosemary
Iwas surrounded by handsome men, and while normally that would’ve been a dream of mine, the split in my lip stung like hell, the ropes around my wrists and ankles had chafed the hell out of my skin, and the men were staring at me with an intensity that didn’t feel particularly sexy.
I tightened my grip around the broken bottle in my hand.
It wasn’t much as weapons went, but assuming they didn’t shoot me before I could move, there was a good chance I could take at least the little one in hand-to-hand.
He’d seemed pretty non-threatening when my kidnappers had dropped him in my room like a trussed pig, but that didn’t mean much.
I’d met plenty of men who seemed okay at first and turned into monumental assholes later.
They got bonus points for untying me, but that didn’t mean I trusted them.
“Whoa,” one of them said, his head jerking back in surprise. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
I looked at each of their faces. They were dressed head to toe in black fatigues.
Each one had an earpiece. There was a definite family resemblance.
Two of the men were clean cut—short hair, fresh shaves, chiseled jaws.
The one talking to me was a little rougher looking with scruff and longer hair.
The only one who didn’t match the set was the guy who’d been tied up at my feet for the last hour or so.
He was smaller than the others, and his coloring was all wrong.
Thoughts raced through my head so fast I could barely catch them.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked flatly. My mouth snapped shut when another man stepped into the room, and my stomach swooped.
I’d seen him before. I’d recognize the warm brown eyes anywhere, though the last time I’d seen him, they’d been twinkling with laughter.
His beard was trimmed shorter, and his hair was longer, pulled back in a knot at the base of his neck.
I stared at the tattoos on his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
“I know you,” I said, trailing my gaze upward until I met his eyes. “How do I know you?”
“No fucking clue,” the man replied, his voice deep and raspy. “You planning on using that?”
I glanced down at the bottle still gripped in my fist. “If I need to.”
“How far do you think you’d get?” he asked casually.
Not far enough.
“You’d be surprised,” I replied, staring. He was more beautiful up close. His lips formed a cupid’s bow, nearly hidden by his mustache, and his jaw was so strong that even his beard couldn’t disguise it. High cheekbones that were flushed with color. And those eyes.
“You remember where we met yet?” He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Yes. I did.
“No one here is going to hurt you,” the man said, flipping his pistol around so he could hand it to me. “Take it.”
I reached out and wrapped my hand around the grip. It was larger than I was used to, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I felt the muscles in my neck relax a little.
“Bullseye,” I told him, searching his face for any recognition.
He shook his head slowly, like he didn’t understand.
“The gun shop. That’s where I saw you.”
“I haven’t been there in almost a year,” he countered, tilting his head.
“I know.” I licked my lips and winced as my tongue found the cut. “You came in with another guy. He looked like you, but his hair was shorter.”
My cousin had whispered that he wouldn’t have minded being the meat in that particular sandwich, and I’d nearly choked on my tongue.
“My brother Zeke.”
His brother? I looked around the room again. The other men resembled this one, but none of them was the one from before. I may not have remembered where I’d seen him at first, but now that I’d been given some context, I would’ve recognized the missing brother.
“He’s not here,” the man said, his eyes roaming all over my face like a caress. It was like he was cataloging my features. “These are the rest of my brothers. Ambrose, Chance, Beau, and Charlie.”
I looked away as I felt my cheeks heat. Their stances had relaxed fractionally, but every single one of them was staring at me like I’d grown two heads. Even the little one, whose lips had pulled up in a small smile. He didn’t fit in with the others.
“Zeke’s mate,” the man across from me said.
I looked back at him. “You’re Vampires?”
“Yes,” he replied simply.
That made sense. Jesus, it made perfect sense.
I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t seen it the minute they’d busted through the door.
The only thing I could blame it on was the lack of sleep and any kind of brain food over the past week.
It wouldn’t have killed the idiot kidnappers to bring me a piece of broccoli, for god’s sake.
They’d come for their brother’s mate, that was clear enough, but every Vampire I’d ever known had been just as good at disappearing as they were at completing an objective.
Half the time, no one knew they’d ever been there in the first place.
So why were they still standing in that little room staring at me?
The beautiful Vampire standing across from me was calm. Patient. His gaze was soft and warm and hopeful, but it wasn’t weak. No, there was intensity there, a thrum of something I couldn’t quite pinpoint, but felt close to possession.
He’d handed me his pistol without hesitating for a second, and while I knew that Vampires lived through most injuries, it still wasn’t pleasant for them to be shot. It was as if he’d known I wouldn’t use it. Why?
Sweat dripped down my spine. I didn’t like puzzles that I couldn’t solve.
A memory of my dad looking at me over his glasses played in my head. Don’t overthink it, Flower. The simplest answer is usually the correct one.
Okay, so the simplest answer to why this Vampire was looking at me like I was some kind of supermodel, even though I hadn’t showered in a week…
But that would mean—
“I’m your mate?” I asked, bracing myself for his laughter.
“Yes.” He brushed his tongue along his bottom lip, and my stomach flipped.
“Shit,” I whispered, dropping my arm down limply at my side. Only years of training kept me from dropping it as shock made my limbs go numb.
The Vampires burst into motion.
“So you don’t know who Finau is, then,” the scruffy one drawled.
“I’ve never even heard that name,” I replied, watching as he nodded thoughtfully.
“Why were they holding you?” the beautiful Vampire asked as his brother left the room.
“I don’t know,” I replied, clicking on the safety of the pistol. I rounded the desk and tried to hand it back to him.
Vampire lore was legendary. People discussed them ad nauseam, and I’d heard every harebrained theory there was. Most of it was bullshit, but sometimes humans stumbled onto a piece of truth.
Like the fact that if I were this Vampire’s mate, I was suddenly the safest I’d ever been in my life.
“Keep it until we’re out of here,” the Vampire said, his gaze still roaming all over me.
I nodded and adjusted my grip.
I followed him across the room as his brothers started yelling from the main part of the garage where I’d been held.
“Shit,” he hissed as he picked up speed.
“Wait,” I called, jogging behind him. My legs protested as the muscles stretched and tightened, but I refused to acknowledge it.
“You okay?” he asked, jerking to a stop in the hallway.
“What’s your name?” I asked, pausing a foot away.
“Daniel Boucher.” His gaze was warm as he shot me a soft smile.
I barely stopped my mouth from dropping open. Everyone had heard of the Boucher brothers. Their names were legendary in certain circles, and I’d spent the past five years hearing about their exploits.
“You gonna tell me yours?” he asked as he started moving again.
“Rosemary Whitlock,” I replied, watching for any sense of recognition. None came.
“Nice to meet you, Rosie,” he said as we exited out of the hallway to find his brothers barking at each other.
Panic seemed to pulse inside the building like a living thing as I followed the group toward the doors.
I wasn’t sure where we were going, but I would’ve followed the devil if it meant I could escape the four walls of my prison.
Armed intruders breaking in to kill my captors was the perfect cover, and I nearly sighed as I took in a lungful of fresh air outside.
From what I could gather from the shorthand they spoke, their home had been attacked while they were away. No one said it out loud, but from their sharp movements and the speed at which we reached their cars, there were very important occupants at home.
Daniel threw open the back seat of a nondescript sedan and gestured for me to climb in.
As soon as I was seated, he threw himself into the driver’s seat.
Seconds later, we were speeding toward the end of the block and flying around the corner.
I buckled my seat belt as I watched his brother in the front passenger seat, his body strung tight as a wire as he leaned forward, like that would make the car move faster.
“They’re really good drivers,” the not-brother said from beside me as he buckled his own belt. “Lots of practice.” He didn’t sound confident.
“I’m not worried,” I replied, watching as we sped through red light after red light and then swung onto the freeway.
“I’m Charlie,” he said, glancing at me and then back out the front windshield.
We were going so fast that it was nearly impossible to look away from the road ahead of us. It was instinct, the urge to see where we were going.
“Rosemary,” I replied.
“Pretty name.”
“Sorry I didn’t untie you back there,” I said distractedly. “That looked uncomfortable as hell.”
“How could you have?” Charlie asked skeptically. “You were tied to a chair.”
“Right.”