Chapter 1
One
Rafe gasped and jerked upright.
Strong hands grabbed his shoulders, holding him steady. A deeper instinct demanded he pull away, run. Run fast. But before he could do more than tense his muscles for an explosion of action, Marcus’s voice broke through the clutter clogging his brain.
The words didn’t make sense, but his older brother’s tone was gentle. Reassuring. Safe.
Everything was safe. He was safe.
His heart was still hammering against his chest, but he drew in a deep breath and rubbed the heel of one palm into his left eye and then the right.
The world had gone from complete nothingness to a cacophony of sounds and feelings.
An angry, overwhelming collection of noises his brain was trying to sort through.
Lowering his hand, Rafe blinked and his eyes focused on his brother’s worried expression as he stared at him.
One hand moved from Rafe’s shoulder to cup the side of his face with a surprising gentleness he’d not experienced with Marcus since they were kids.
Bel, yes. His twin, Beltran, was all kindness and sweet concern. But not Marcus.
“Are you okay?” his brother asked.
Before Rafe’s brain could formulate an answer, it was distracted by the red smear at the corner of Marcus’s mouth. It looked like…blood.
His eyes darted over Marcus’s face. It didn’t look like he’d sustained an injury. Why was he bleeding? What had happened—
Memories slammed into his brain, freezing the breath in his lungs.
Rafe pulled out of Marcus’s grasp. His legs weren’t yet strong enough to hold him upright, so he scooted a few feet across the thick Aubusson rug covering Marcus’s library.
Marcus tried to reach for him, but Rafe held up a hand to ward him off, and Marcus relented.
Vampires.
They had all agreed to become vampires. To save their mother. To protect her.
Had it worked? Had he truly died and come back as a vampire? He didn’t feel any different. He felt alive. Normal. Himself, if a little disoriented.
“Rafe,” Marcus said, his voice growing firmer and more demanding. “Speak to me. How do you feel?”
“Fine,” Rafe replied, not caring for the note of surprised wonder in that single word. Okay, maybe he wasn’t quite himself yet, but he’d get there. “I…I don’t think it worked. I don’t feel any different.”
Marcus smiled at him, seated on the floor in his fine suit. Only his jacket and perfectly knotted neckcloth were missing now. The collar of his white shirt was open at the throat, and there was another smear of blood there as well as on the fabric. But there was no wound.
Aiden had bitten him there. Rafe had watched it, his stomach churning and clenching at the sight of his powerful brother held so easily in Aiden’s unyielding grip, his blood pumping down the vampire’s throat in one long swallow after another.
But if there was blood at Marcus’s mouth, did that mean he’d fed as well? Rafe’s hand lifted to his throat, remembering where Aiden’s lips had brushed his skin a moment before fangs sank deep.
“I didn’t bite you,” Marcus said.
Rafe’s heart skipped a beat, and he fought the urge to inch a little farther away from his brother. “You can read my thoughts now?”
Marcus shook his head. There was a bit of a rueful smile that disappeared far too quickly. “They’re written across your face.”
“He bit me.”
Rafe’s eyes darted across the room to take in the sight of his youngest brother, Winter, seated on the floor as well, his back against a chair as if he hadn’t the strength to even climb into it.
The collar of his shirt was open, and it looked as if there were a pair of puncture wounds in his throat still seeping blood.
“You bit our brother?” Rafe demanded.
“It’s okay, Rafe,” Winter said. His oldest brother’s face was turning red, and his eyes dropped to the floor as if he couldn’t meet Rafe’s gaze.
Rafe opened his mouth to argue, but another voice chimed in, and Rafe found himself instantly calming.
“Winter is fine. Marcus was careful. I watched him the entire time.”
Rafe blinked and looked over at the older man kneeling on the floor to his right. Aiden. Aiden had been a vampire for over a century. Fallen in love with their mother. Taken care of them when she was ill. And now he was changing them so they could oversee her care.
Aiden, with his long dark hair, vibrant eyes, and too-handsome face, watched Rafe while he kneeled over the unmoving body of Bel. Aiden’s wrist was pressed to his brother’s parted lips, but there was no movement from his twin. It didn’t even look like his chest rose and fell with breath.
“Bel!” Rafe gasped. He lurched forward to his knees, crawling over to his twin’s side. More bits and pieces of their earlier conversation were coming to him now. They’d agreed to be transformed in order of birth, and while Rafe and Bel were twins, Rafe was technically older by minutes.
As he reached Bel’s side, a sweet, coppery scent danced in front of his nose, teasing him.
Rafe closed his eyes and breathed deeply, desperately trying to drag more of that delicious scent into his nose.
A tiny, horrified voice in his head was screaming that it was the scent of blood, Aiden’s blood, but a darker urge was stomping down those cries.
It didn’t care what the cause of the scent was.
He needed it. Wanted it more than his next breath.
Sharp pain exploded in his mouth, and Rafe rocked back away from Bel, his hand slapping across his lips as he cried out. The pain flashed through him a second time, but it didn’t feel as sharp, and it was already starting to fade.
“There they are,” Aiden said softly, a smile in his voice.
Rafe lifted his eyes from Aiden to Marcus, who was also smiling at him, some of the tension and worry starting to leave his expression.
Very carefully, Rafe moved his tongue around his mouth, slowly poking at the tender areas that had radiated pain only seconds earlier. Fangs. Sharp, slightly curved fangs now protruded. It was true. It had worked. He was a vampire now.
“Come on, Bel. Open your eyes for us,” Aiden whispered, drawing Rafe from his moment of wonder.
“What’s going on? Is something wrong with Bel?” Rafe demanded. He crawled toward his twin, preparing to shove Aiden out of his way if necessary.
The smell of blood wafted around him, causing his stomach to cramp with his first hunger pangs.
He knew without question—this wasn’t something that could be cured with a nice pudding.
His body craved blood. His stomach twisted and his veins burned like they were drying up along every inch of his frame, but he shoved the discomfort down as he stared at his unmoving brother.
Sweet Bel. Their mother claimed only six minutes separated them from entering the world, but there had been moments in their lives that Rafe felt sure years of experience separated them.
He loved Marcus and Winter, but his bond with Bel was special.
They’d whispered countless secrets—worries, fears, hopes, and dreams. Bel was the only one who knew of his loneliness.
“Bel, open your eyes,” Rafe commanded in the sternest voice he could muster.
He didn’t twitch. Didn’t shift a single muscle. He wasn’t breathing. Rafe had begun to fear his brother wasn’t in the lifeless husk any longer. He’d left him. Left him alone when Bel had sworn to always stick by him.
“Give him a moment,” Marcus said. There was a slight waver in his voice. A little note of uncertainty that was unlike Marcus.
“Bel!” Rafe screamed. Marcus grabbed his shoulders to pull him back. Or maybe it was Aiden. He didn’t know. He jerked against the person’s grip, leaning over Bel’s quiet form. He slammed his hand down on the floor right next to brother’s head. “Bel! Open your bloody eyes!”
Bel’s eyes snapped open and for a heartbeat, Rafe was drowning in the absolute blackness staring at him. Bel shot upright, his body slamming into Rafe’s and knocking him on his ass. Familiar thin arms wrapped around him, and Bel buried his face in Rafe’s neck.
“Rafe?” Bel said. His voice was rough and shaky. He still remembered the feeling of intense disorientation in those first few seconds of consciousness. He hugged his twin and closed his eyes, letting relief flow through him. Bel was still with him.
“Rafe, you need to release him and move away,” Aiden instructed calmly.
Rafe’s eyes flicked open, and he glared at the man he’d come to view as a father over the past sixteen years. He trusted Aiden with his life, with the lives of his brothers and mother, but he wasn’t releasing Bel yet. His brother needed him.
“Rafe…” Marcus started and Rafe tightened his grip on Bel.
“You’re going to be just fine, Bel,” Rafe murmured. “Right as rain.”
Bel’s hold on him was loosening and the rapid pounding of his heart against Rafe’s chest was slowing. “Yes. I’m fine,” Bel repeated as if reassuring himself. “That was…strange. Incredible.”
Rafe smiled to hear the wonder entering his tone. That great scientific mind was returning. Silly emotions like fear, panic, and sadness were being overwhelmed with questions and the collection of empirical data.
Bel jerked away from him and cried out in pain.
His hand jumped to cover his mouth and Rafe smiled at the phantom pain echoing in his own mouth.
The old link was still there. Sometimes it was a feeling or a whisper in his head.
An ache he couldn’t explain. Regardless, he always knew it had something to do with Bel. That his brother needed him.
There was nothing Rafe could do this time, but at least the pain was brief. It was just Bel’s fangs coming in.
“Rafe! Move now!” Aiden snapped.
Rafe stared at Aiden for a moment, confounded by the man’s urgency.
But it didn’t matter. There wasn’t time.
Bel was little more than a blur before sharp pain stabbed into Rafe’s throat.
Fingers dug into his shoulders, holding him in place.
He cried out. The stabbing sensation gave way to intense burning throughout his body.
The dryness in his veins was replaced by rushing acid, flowing to fill every part of him.
The pain was nothing compared to the shock that Bel had bitten him. Was feeding off him. Beneath it all, he could sense his brother’s hunger, the feeling of desperate gnawing starvation. And the hints of relief that followed with the first taste of Rafe’s blood.
Closing his eyes, Rafe tried to force himself to relax. Bel needed him. Bel needed to feed. He’d do anything for Bel. Anything for his three brothers.
“Release him, Bel! Release him!” Aiden commanded.
Rafe opened his eyes to see Aiden standing behind Bel and trying to pull him off Rafe, while another set of hands grabbed Rafe, dragging him in the opposite direction.
Winter was pushing to his feet, his face so very pale and worried.
For a flash, he thought Winter looked so much younger than his actual twenty-three years. Too young for this.
Flesh ripped, and Rafe cried out again. Aiden and Bel tumbled backward, Aiden landing on his ass. Rafe and Marcus crashed into a chair, but Marcus was quickly scrambling to his feet, putting distance between him and Rafe.
Or as Rafe was coming to guess, distance between himself and Rafe’s open wound. They were all starving for blood, and Rafe was now losing more than he could afford to be without.
Marcus tossed him a pristine white linen handkerchief. “Press it to the wound,” he ordered.
Rafe snatched it up and held it to his throat. The pain was easing, and he could now focus on Bel, who was sitting on the floor just a few feet away from him. Blood covered his mouth and dripped down his chin. Rafe’s blood.
But as horrifying as the sight of Bel was, there was no missing that his eyes were clearer, back to their crisp deep blue. Some of the paleness of his cheeks had disappeared. He blinked and cocked his head at Rafe a little. A motion that was so familiar, it sent a little ache through Rafe’s heart.
“Hello, Rafe. Are you okay?” Bel inquired in his usual cheerful and sweet tone.
Rafe smiled and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Just fine, Bel. Everything is fine.”
Closing his eyes, Rafe tried to ignore the feel of the blood seeping through the cloth pressed to his neck.
Anything for his brother. Anything for his family.