32. Briar
brIAR
S leep refuses to find its way to me.
I twist and turn until the sheets are nothing but a strangling knot around my legs, too hot one moment and too cold the next.
The pillows are no better, feeling like useless lumps beneath my head no matter how I position them.
I shove them aside, only to end up staring at the dark ceiling above.
A heavy exhale falls from my lips, but my chest won’t loosen and my thoughts won’t still.
The harder I fight for rest, the more restless I grow.
Every time I close my eyes, the thought of tomorrow rises up to choke me.
The compound. My mom. Terrance.
Then there’s the human men who’ve carved themselves into my mind and heart when, once upon a time, I swore I would kill them.
“I’m such a fucking wreck,” I breathe out before pulling a pillow to my face.
Before I know it, I let out a muffled scream while squeezing the pillow tightly enough to my face that someone would think I’m trying to suffocate myself if they walked in.
My body hums with anxiety and adrenaline still, and I toss the pillow onto the floor in annoyance. I know I need to sleep, but my mind won’t let me have it–not when dawn means stepping back into the place that nearly destroyed me, not when every breath tonight feels like it could be my last.
The longer I lie here, the more my mind becomes a battlefield, each drifting thought feeling like stepping on a landmine.
My hands curl into fists before I force them to relax as I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
Just empty your mind, Briar.
Instantly I’m berated with images of my mom suffering and the cruel smile on Terrance’s face as he tore me apart.
“Nope,” I hiss out quickly as my eyes fly open to stare at the ceiling once more. “That’s not going to do the trick.”
I throw the covers aside, my bare feet meeting the cool stone as desperation creeps in to settle my mind somehow.
The castle’s air is thick with silence as I walk through the halls slowly.
It does nothing to soothe me–if anything, the quiet makes it worse as I stare at our family portraits.
My nervous energy pulls me through the corridors without thought of where I’m going.
It isn’t until I come to a stop that I realize where my steps have carried me.
The wing of the castle where Elias, Dante, and Callum were assigned rooms.
Three ornate doors stare back at me, as if taunting me with the choice I’ve been avoiding thinking about. It’s like I can practically hear each entryway whispering sweet nothings to me, meanwhile my conscious yells at me that I can only choose one.
My hands lift to rub harshly at eyes that are dry from exhaustion.
This is the last place I should be if what I’m looking for is mental peace.
Yet as my hands fall limply to my sides and my gaze jumps from door to door, wondering who is in which room, I can’t bring myself to walk away. I stand there in the hush of the corridor, my heart thudding harder with every second I linger.
I don’t know why the hell I came here to begin with.
All I can do is stare and imagine what it would mean to open one door and not the others. To choose one of them.
The thought slices through my ribs to my heart. I can’t…not after what I’ve shared with each of them. Not when opening one of their doors means hurting the other two.
I’d rather have none of them than tear their family further apart than it already is. They’ve endured the loss of the parents who loved them deeply from what I’ve heard, been forced into Terrance’s sole control and supervision, and had their futures ripped from them.
Now, finally they’re free to be together and soon will be able to chase their dreams when Terrance is in the ground. They won’t have to stay here in Sanguis for safety.
My chest squeezes with that thought. I don’t know why that feels like a stake through my heart–it’s not like they belong here as humans, and they absolutely will never be open to becoming vampires.
Maybe we were never meant to continue our paths together, perhaps we were meant to learn how to grow from our shared trauma and move on.
With a muttered curse under my breath, I turn on my heel to leave but quickly freeze when the sound of snoring rattles from the middle room, loud enough to echo down the corridor around me.
I blink before another sound follows. Elias’s voice, sharp and irritable even muffled by the door between us, cuts through the quiet, “Go back to your own room if you’re going to snore in my fucking ear, Cal.”
A burst of air puffs from my nostrils as I choke on the laughter desperately wanting to come out. I slap a hand over my mouth to keep from giving myself away.
This time when my chest constricts, it’s with a startling curiosity that chases away the bleak thoughts.
Did they all end up in one room despite being given their own?
It’s not like they’re children who are scared of the dark and can’t sleep alone. They’re full-grown men, each with a boiling desire for vengeance that will require taking lives…yet they’re possibly cuddled up behind that door.
Dante’s admission of feeling left out comes to the forefront of my mind.
A part of me does hope they’re all in there–not just Elias and Callum.
I’m not sure if he believed me when I told him that he isn’t an outcast, but I do know that sometimes actions speak louder than words. He just needs time to see how he fits in and that he is accepted, after spending years unattached to his own thoughts and emotions.
My curiosity is insatiable, tugging hard at my feet, and before I can talk myself out of it, my steps carry me toward the door.
The closer I get, the more ridiculous it feels to be sneaking up on them like this, but my need to see the scene for myself digs its claws in too deep to shake loose.
I rest my hand lightly against the doorknob, waiting for some sound inside to betray that they’re awake enough to notice if I slip in, but the silence stretches, now thick with steady breathing.
Just as I twist the knob, I falter and nibble on my bottom lip, indecision surging up.
I know I can get in quickly and unnoticed with my speed and agility, but I have no clue if there’s a shadowed corner for me to hide in quickly enough if by some chance they do wake up to hear me.
What am I supposed to say then… hello ?
Still, the thought of them in a pile of snuggles is something I can’t bear to give up seeing and I quickly turn the handle to unlatch it fully.
I glide in slowly and carefully before closing the door with the faintest click.
My body moves with the unnatural stillness threaded into my vampiric blood.
Every step is light enough that my footfalls can’t echo against the stone and I don’t dare to breathe as my eyes quickly scan for a dark shadow to take me into its embrace.
Directly to my left is the perfect spot, my eyes quickly snagging on a swath of shadows nestled next to the large, wooden wardrobe.
I’m through the door and in my hiding place all within ten seconds.
I allow myself to take a small breath finally as I let my eyes adjust to the small bits of light coming in through the window.
And there they are.
Callum and Elias sprawled together on the massive bed, the blankets tangled around their limbs, both of them flat on their backs like they’d fought for space and then gave up at the same time.
Cal’s mouth hangs open in sleep, the faintest rasp of a snore escaping as his chest rises and falls.
Elias, even unconscious, looks like he’s fighting someone with his brows drawn tight and his jaw clenched.
In the corner opposite of me, nearest the window is Dante stretched out on the large chaise.
His long frame is curled slightly, one small, decorative pillow tucked under his head.
Though I don’t know the dynamic fully between the three of them, I do know that Elias and Callum wouldn’t refuse to give him one of the many real pillows at the top of their bed.
It hits me then, that he must have come in a bit after Cal did. One by one, they’d likely crept into Elias’s room, and the thought brings a feral grin to my face.
I can already hear Elias’s annoyed groan.
My eyes continue to track Dante’s body, finding it hard to look away with the soft moonlight falling onto him. His breathing is deep and steady, but his body still looks taut, like rest doesn’t come easily to him.
Maybe none of us could sleep well.
They’re all here, piled into one room, seeking each other out just as much as I am, apparently.
The realization unsettles me as the strange sense of belonging hums in my bones.
Dante rolls back slightly and my breath stumbles when I realize his eyes are open and on me.
For a moment, I freeze, embarrassment hot and thick in my veins at being caught. Instead of calling me out or breaking the silence, though, his gaze softens. He lifts his hand from the chaise and crooks his fingers in a small, unmistakable motion.
Come.
It shouldn’t surprise me–he already told me what he and his cousins want–yet it knocks my breath loose.
What unsettles me is the simplicity of it. There’s no desire blazing in his eyes, no yelled demand, and no question of why I’m here. Just space made for me, wordlessly and patiently, like it’s what he expected.
For a moment, my feet stay rooted, but the longer his hand lingers in the air, steady and sure, the more my body answers before my mind can resist.
I step out of the shadows and move toward him.
My steps are soundless as I cross the room, but the thrum of my pulse is so loud in my ears I half expect it to wake the brothers. I keep darting my eyes between them and Dante, anticipating their eyes opening any moment as I walk past the foot of the bed.
I don’t know why I let curiosity carry me here.
Even worse, I don’t know why I’m slipping into their space in the middle of the night like I belong here.
These are the same three humans I once swore I would never forgive, the same trio of boys whose faces were burned into my nightmares as I screamed.
And yet, I can’t make myself turn back.
Dante wiggles back a bit more, his arm still stretched in invitation, and I lower myself onto the chaise before I can overthink it.
The cushion dips under my weight and the faint scent of cedar soap clinging to his skin surrounds me.
I freeze, every muscle stiff, as though my body still can’t decide if this is allowed.
I’m like an immovable brick, yet he slides his arm beneath my head and it does something to me.
Second by second, I slowly melt into the moment and our nearness.
He simply lies there, solid and waiting, and something in me yields.
I let my cheek fully fall against his bicep, his warmth grounding me in a way that rattles me nearly as much as his confession in the gym did.
My breaths begin to sync with his, steady and unhurried, the rise and fall of his chest coaxing the storm inside me into something I can finally breathe through.
He still doesn’t ask what I’m doing or why I’m here.
He only drapes his arm over me, the weight of it as comforting as his fingers drawing slow circles against my back.
Each pass smooths the jagged edges of my nerves until exhaustion seeps into my bones and drags me under.
My dreams swallow me so completely I don’t notice when they dissolve into something real.
The first thing I’m aware of is sudden motion–the sway of being turned and the tug of strong arms pulling me from the warmth I’d sunk into.
My head lolls, feeling too heavy for my neck, and a sound catches in my throat that’s a groggy, soft protest in my bleary mind.
The world is blurred at the edges as I crack them open just barely, the room still bathed in darkness and a glimmer of moonlight that illuminates who’s holding me.
Elias .
That can’t be right.
All I can focus on is the solid thrum of his heart and the careful way he shifts me in his arms like I’m something fragile. It doesn’t fit with the man I’ve come to know, and in my drowsy haze it makes the moment all the more unreal, as though I’m floating somewhere between fantasy and reality.
But then the mattress dips beneath me as he lowers me gently, the soft sheets brushing against my skin to replace the cradle of his arms, and I know it’s real. Never have I felt such sensory details in a dream like this.
The warmth of another body presses close before I’ve even had a moment to adjust. Callum turns toward me in his sleep, his hand reaching blindly across the sheets as though pulled by instinct. His palm finds my side and settles there, unconscious but claiming. My heart rate flutters with the move.
Elias lingers at my back as the edge of the bed bows slightly under his weight, and as he settles in, I feel the soft drag of his fingers up and down the bare skin of my arm. Instantly, my skin pebbles from the ghosting touch.
Their touches are different–one unknowing and one deliberate–but together they wrap around me until the hollow ache of thinking of choosing only one of them eases in my chest.
It’s like they’re unknowingly answering the questions I don’t even have the nerve to ask them.
My breathing evens out again as my eyes flutter shut once more, not wanting to question any of this and disrupt the moment.
That’s when I hear his voice slipping through the room in a whisper. “I’ll put myself between you and every gun tomorrow.” My pulse hammers as he continues. “I’ll bleed first. I’ll burn first. I’ll make sure you walk out free, even if it’s the last thing I do.”
The words sink into me, searing deeper than the scars I carry, heavy with devotion. He must think I’m lost to sleep, unable to hear the guilt and the fierce worship laced through his promise.
But I do. I hear it all.
Callum’s unconscious grip grounds me, steady and unyielding as Elias’s vow hums against my skin, each stroke of his hand a brand. Then there’s Dante, silent at our back, radiating a constant, watchful presence that wraps around me like a guard against the world.
It’s too much and not enough all at once, this impossible cocoon of warmth I never expected to find in the aftermath of so much ruin.
My chest aches with the weight of it. I don’t know what any of this means, or what it will cost us come morning, but for tonight the weight of their presence soothes me into sleep once more, and peace holds me at last.