I looked at each of their faces. They were dressed head to toe in black fatigues. Each one had an earpiece. There was a definite family resemblance. Two of the men were clean cut—short hair, fresh shaves, chiseled jaws. The one talking to me was a little rougher looking with scruff and longer hair. The only one whodidn’t match the set was the guy who’d been tied up at my feet for the last hour or so. He was smaller than the others, and his coloring was all wrong. Thoughts raced through my head so fast I could barely catch them.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked flatly. My mouth snapped shut when another man stepped into the room, and my stomach swooped.
I’d seen him before. I’d recognize the warm brown eyes anywhere, though the last time I’d seen him, they’d been twinkling with laughter. His beard was trimmed shorter, and his hair was longer, pulled back in a knot at the base of his neck. I stared at the tattoos on his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
“I know you,” I said, trailing my gaze upward until I met his eyes. “How do I know you?”
“No fucking clue,” the man replied, his voice deep and raspy. “You planning on using that?”
I glanced down at the bottle still gripped in my fist. “If I need to.”
“How far do you think you’d get?” he asked casually.
Not far enough.
“You’d be surprised,” I replied, staring. He was more beautiful up close. His lips formed a cupid’s bow, nearly hidden by his mustache, and his jaw was so strong that even his beard couldn’t disguise it. High cheekbones that were flushed with color. And those eyes.
“You remember where we met yet?” He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Yes. I did.
“No one here is going to hurt you,” the man said, flipping his pistol around so he could hand it to me. “Take it.”
I reached out and wrapped my hand around the grip. It was larger than I was used to, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I felt the muscles in my neck relax a little.
“Bullseye,” I told him, searching his face for any recognition.
He shook his head slowly, like he didn’t understand.
“The gun shop. That’s where I saw you.”
“I haven’t been there in almost a year,” he countered, tilting his head.
“I know.” I licked my lips and winced as my tongue found the cut. “You came in with another guy. He looked like you, but his hair was shorter.”
My cousin had whispered that he wouldn’t have minded being the meat in that particular sandwich, and I’d nearly choked on my tongue.
“My brother Zeke.”
His brother? I looked around the room again. The other men resembled this one, but none of them was the one from before. I may not have remembered where I’d seen him at first, but now that I’d been given some context, I would’ve recognized the missing brother.
“He’s not here,” the man said, his eyes roaming all over my face like a caress. It was like he was cataloging my features. “These are the rest of my brothers. Ambrose, Chance, Beau, and Charlie.”
I looked away as I felt my cheeks heat. Their stances had relaxed fractionally, but every single one of them was staring at me like I’d grown two heads. Even the little one, whose lips had pulled up in a small smile. He didn’t fit in with the others.
“Zeke’s mate,” the man across from me said.
I looked back at him. “You’re Vampires?”
“Yes,” he replied simply.
That made sense. Jesus, it made perfect sense. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t seen it the minute they’d busted through the door.The only thing I could blame it on was the lack of sleep and any kind of brain food over the past week. It wouldn’t have killed the idiot kidnappers to bring me a piece of broccoli, for god’s sake.
They’d come for their brother’s mate, that was clear enough, but every Vampire I’d ever known had been just as good at disappearing as they were at completing an objective. Half the time, no one knew they’d ever been there in the first place. So why were they still standing in that little room staring at me?
The beautiful Vampire standing across from me was calm. Patient. His gaze was soft and warm and hopeful, but it wasn’t weak. No, there was intensity there, a thrum of something I couldn’t quite pinpoint, but felt close topossession.
He’d handed me his pistol without hesitating for a second, and while I knew that Vampires lived through most injuries, it still wasn’t pleasant for them to be shot. It was as if he’d known I wouldn’t use it. Why?
