Page 41 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Four

He opens the screen and reads the text, his scowl deepening. “Damien is muttering in his sleep.”

That must be a good sign, right?

“What did he say?”

Bran turns the phone around and shows me the screen and I scan the words quickly.

He’s coming, the text reads.

The fae prince is coming.

Episode 65

Immune to Chivalry

I’m pressed against the back of the passenger seat as Bran shifts the Bimmer into third gear and propels us through the night.

He’s silent, his attention on the road, but his body is tight, the tendons and muscles in his forearms flexing beneath his pale skin as he works the transmission and the speedy engine to his advantage.

The urgency is nearly palpable even if he won’t speak of it.

Damien was talking in his sleep, and if he was talking in his sleep, does that mean he is closer to consciousness?

I tried talking Bran into running home, that it would be faster and I’d meet him there, but he wasn’t having it.

“You’ve been out of my sight once today,” he’d said. “And look at the trouble you got yourself into. Once is enough.”

I would have rolled my eyes at him and stood my ground, damn the consequences, if not for the news about Damien.

It doesn’t take Bran long to turn down the winding driveway of Duval House. The windows are lit up and all of the landscaping lights are on, washing the green manicured grounds in golden pools of light.

As Bran pulls the car beneath the porte cochère, I can’t help but wonder if my sister might also be clawing her way back to consciousness. I don’t want to hope, because I don’t want to be disappointed, but it’s really fucking hard not to cling to any glimmer of possible good news.

Please come back to me, Kelly.

Bran slams the car to a stop and yanks up on the emergency brake. He’s out of the car a second later and tossing my key ring into the air. He doesn’t check to see if anyone is there to catch them, because of course there is.

The girl at the double doors fumbles the keys but catches them before they hit the ground. She quickly darts in behind the wheel. Bran is already through the wide double doors as I scurry around the car’s front bumper. “Catch up, Mouse,” he calls, already halfway to the main staircase.

I run after him.

Somehow his fast walk is twice as fast as my run, but I catch up, practically breathless, as he takes the stairs two at a time and then turns down a hallway, then another, until we come up to a closed door far into the depths of the second floor. I’ve never been to this side of Duval House so I can only guess this is Damien’s bedroom. The door is large and ornate, clearly hand carved, with laurel leaves and baroque filigree.

It’s regal but not garish, just like the Duvals.

Without knocking, Bran pushes through and steps into the dim. I slow my pace and edge in just behind him, unsure if I should be here.

There’s only one lamp on in the large space and the light skims a huge, heavy wooden bed pushed against the far wall. There is a sweet but masculine smell hanging in the air, like musk and lavender.

“Damien,” Bran says. But when he gets to the bed, he stops, his eyes going wide.

Something slams into me from behind and shoves me to the floor.

I let out a yelp as a knee is pressed into the center of my back, driving me into the rug. A cold hand grabs my chin while the other comes to the back of my head, bracing me.

“Damien!” Bran yells.

Damien is awake.

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