Page 25 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Five

Bran crouches beside the burly fae and checks the man’s pockets pulling out a medallion, a dagger, and several gold coins. He thieves all of it.

The vampires who ambushed gather round. The only one I recognize is Jimmy.

“Well done, Jim,” Bran says. “Right on time.”

“Jimmy was always the most punctual out of all of us.” Damien swipes the messy blade of his dagger across his leg, cleaning off the blood.

“How are we going to answer for this, though?” I turn a circle, pointing at the damage with flailing arms. “The queen is going to wonder where her guards are! She’s going to want to know what we did to them, and she’ll find out and then?—”

“Let me worry about that,” Bran says, dragging a fae off the path and into the underbrush.

“Let you—you must be joking! This is insane. We’re going to be in so much trouble and?—”

He stalks over to me, still bloodied, eyes still glowing from the rush of the kill. He wraps his hand around my throat and pushes me into the thick trunk of a nearby tree. “You are mine. Do you understand what that means, Mouse? That means that if someone threatens you, even if it’s wrapped up under the guise of protecting you, I will destroy them. It might be one stone at a time, like this, disposing of guards so I can get us to the next stage of fucking their shit up. Because that’s what I intend to do. I will fuck their shit up for thinking they have any fucking right to take you from me.” He leans in closer, his pupils contracting allowing more of the golden glow of his irises to show against the night. “No one will ever have you. No one but me. That is my vow to you. My promise. And that promise will always be steeped in blood and destruction. Maybe even war. I would start a dozen if it meant keeping you.”

My pulse is thrumming hard beneath his grip. Even though we’re surrounded by death and several other vampires, I’m feeling a carnal response to his authority in the space between my legs.

He notices right away, nostrils flaring, pulling in my heated scent.

“Dear brother,” Bran says, his eyes still on me, searching me.

“Yes?” Damien replies.

“Can you handle the rest of this mess?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Bran grabs me by the hand and yanks me away.

We find Bran’s Audi parked at the side of the road waiting. He says nothing. Just coaxes me inside, clips me into the seat belt, and then climbs in behind the wheel.

His speed is death-defying, and I hold on, white-knuckled, to the door handle as he guides the nimble sports car through Midnight Harbor. But he doesn’t return to Duval House. He takes me, instead, to his old house, the one right next door to mine.

It wasn’t that long ago that I was standing on his front porch, debating knocking on his door. But it feels like another life, another girl.

The porch light is on, casting a soft glow over the railings as Bran pulls me up the stairs. He kicks the door in with his boot, then slams it shut behind us once we’re inside.

“Bran, do you—” I start, but he has no patience for my words. He slams me against the door and kisses me.

His mouth is frenzied, angry and terrified.

I am his and he will do whatever he must to keep me, but everything is threatening us right now. Everything, at every turn.

His tongue meets mine as his hand holds my face to him.

I can smell the blood clinging to us, the crispness of night, and the leftover muskiness of the fae realm.

“I missed you, Mouse,” he says when he pulls back enough to let me take a heavy breath.

“I wasn’t gone that long.”

“Any time is too long.”

There is a light on in the kitchen, just beneath the stove hood. It’s enough to see Bran, the outline of his body, the desire on his face, the wetness of his lips.

“You will not be his,” he says, his voice haunted and raspy.

“I know.”

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