Page 43 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Four

He takes in another deep breath. “They’re trying to get through. The fae. They’re trying to get through the gate.”

Bran gets Damien’s arm slung around his shoulders and then pulls him to his feet. “Can you stand, Mouse?” Bran asks.

I give him a nod, even though I’m still dizzy. His brother should take priority right now. I’m going to pretend I’m okay as long as I need to.

I slowly climb to my feet and take in a deep breath to steady myself.

Damien lists in Bran’s grip.

“Hey,” Bran says and slaps Damien on the face. “Look at me.”

Damien’s eyes refocus and he looks over at his brother. “We should kill her,” he says again.

“Shut up,” Bran says as he carts Damien back to the bed and helps him onto the thick mattress. “Jessie is off-limits, even to you. You touch her again, I stake you. First in the ass. Then in the heart. End of story.”

Damien lays his head against the pile of pillows, his eyes heavy. “Do you remember the bread Ma used to make?”

Bran goes still, his brow sinking low over his hooded eyes. “Yes.”

“Do you remember the smell of the yeast baking on a winter afternoon?” Damien’s head lolls on the pillows, his eyes closed now. “Do you remember the way it would taste when she cut off a fresh slice for us?”

“Of course.” Bran’s voice is thick with the memory.

“Why did we outlive them? Do you ever wonder?”

Bran pulls the blanket up around Damien. “Because we are cursed.”

Damien swallows loudly. “Perhaps dying wouldn’t be so bad after all.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

I slink back into the shadows, my heart squeezing, suddenly uncomfortable with witnessing the intimacy between the Duval brothers. I’m not sure if Bran wants me to see them at their most vulnerable, when they are more brothers than immortal vampires. Brothers with mothers and sisters and memories of fresh baked bread on cold afternoons.

“I can’t help you fight them,” Damien says as he slumps into the bed. “Not like this.”

“I’ll fix you. I just need you to rest and not kill my little mouse.”

Damien’s mouth lifts in an attempted laugh. “That’s a horrible pet name for her.” He’s quiet for another beat, his chest rattling with his breaths. “The mouse has become the monster.”

A shiver races down my arms, lifting goosebumps.

Bran looks over at me and even though I’m shrouded in darkness, I know with his vampire eyes he can see me the same as if I were standing in the light.

His eyes burn bright gold.

“We’re all monsters,” Bran says, his gaze still on me.

Within seconds, Damien is unconscious again and Bran ushers me into the hallway. As soon as we’re alone, he puts his hands on either side of my face and examines me with a furrowed brow and bright golden eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Did he hurt you?” He checks my skin for bruises.

“He was gentle like a cat.”

Bran scowls at me. “This is no time for jokes.”

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