Broken Dreams (Broken Promises Book 1) Page 6

  Her two spent men lay on either side of her, cocooning her, their lazy fingers tracing lines up and down her naked body.

  “Wow. I’ve never… like that… with two…” Heather stopped and closed her eyes as the truth hit her. “Well, not that I remember, anyway.”

  “That’s over one hundred years’ experience for you.” It sounded wrong even as Arlo said it. In all his years, he had never experienced anything quite like his intimacy with Heather. When their bodies connected, he felt their souls did too.

  “Wait? You’re one hundred years old?” Heather asked as she ran her hand down his youthful face. No, she thought, he looks barely thirty. His stubble tickled her fingers as she ran them around his jawline, and then his hand caught hers and guided it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

  “I'm one hundred and fifty-four,” Arlo admitted. “I met Seb and Roken many decades ago, but they had known each other almost as long before I met them.”

  That old? Heather wondered. She'd been able to tell they were older than they looked, but that made Seb and Roken over 250 years old. That raised more questions than it answered, but they were finally ready to open up to her, so she tucked her questions away for later and let them talk.

  “It all gets a bit messy when demons fight human wars. I was part of a pack sent to hunt vampires, but after being bitten by one, I was abandoned by my pack and left to fend for myself. You don't know what it's like to lose your pack. They were my family. My everything.” He paused and shuddered before whispering, “I had nothing.” Arlo sighed and turned towards the window.

  Heather smiled with interest, happy to let the matter rest for now, but she was certainly going to be asking a lot more questions later. Clearly, Seb and Roken had far more history than these two.

  “I'm one hundred and twenty-two. I was conscripted during the war to be part of a vampire squadron to take down the enemy. I was young and stupid, and joining seemed like a good idea at the time, but they didn't tell us about shifters.” Oscar’s face showed no guilt. To these two, it was old history, water under the bridge.

  It didn’t take much for Heather to make the connection. A vampire in a vampire squad. A shifter in a pack of allies sent to stop them. These guys were on opposite sides of the same war. “Did you two...”

  “No,” Arlo cut her short. “I didn't fight Oscar. Didn't even meet him ‘til after, y'know.”

  So, Oscar wasn't the vampire who bit Arlo, but they were in the same place at the same time when it happened. Arlo began his story. “There were reports of a vampire squad in Serbia, and we were sent after them. It was a full moon that night, the air was so cold and still. The human team went in first by day, sneaking in while the vampires slept. That night, the full moon came out and they all changed. Every one of them was a werewolf.”

  Oscar lifted his head from her body and shuffled up to face her. “I woke up, got ready, and then the moon came out and there were werewolves everywhere. Literally, bloody everywhere. I tried running, but there were soldiers waiting with fucking machine guns, tearing away my comrades. Close combat was our only chance against them, but then they fucking shifted, and it was over. There were wolves and werewolves everywhere,” Oscar recounted, reliving that night in his eyes, the pain, the fear. They were forgiven but never forgotten. “I remember falling, something big took me out, game over. I didn’t wake up for several hours, and by then, it was all over.”

  “It was anything but over at that point,” Arlo corrected. “We did well since the werewolves wouldn’t attack the shifters in wolf form, but the vampires did, and we were sorely unprepared for their numbers. Our estimate was nowhere close. We thought that was it, that it was over. But as bad as it was, it was about to get much, much worse.”

  Heather raised her eyebrows, wondering what had happened. In such a dire situation, what could have made it worse? Arlo’s response was the last thing she expected.

  “That's when Roken arrived,” Arlo answered her unasked question.

  “Fucking hell, it was a massacre,” Oscar added. “The minute he arrived, the death toll spiralled. I just lay cold and still and played dead. I practically was dead.”

  Heather wanted to know more. She wanted to know all about Roken, and the battle, but this wasn't the story they wanted to tell tonight. They wanted to tell what came after. After the battle, when the dust had cleared, when the masses lay dead. The moment Seb entered the battlefield.

  It was cold in the house, and this story made Oscar uncomfortable. He thought a layer of clothing might make him feel less vulnerable, so Oscar grabbed their clothes and handed them out. As they untangled and began dressing, he continued quietly, “Roken destroyed anything that came near him. Even the werewolves that went too close. Then Seb showed up. Right at the end. It was an unfair fight. Roken was weak, tired and injured from the battle. I thought he was on our side, sent to help, but he killed every vampire who tried to help him. I’ve never seen a vampire fight like he did.”

  Arlo nodded and then spoke with the same fragility “Come morning, all the werewolves were gone. What was left of my unit was called away, but I bore the mark of a vampire and was left behind. The sun hurt me in a way it hadn’t before. My skin and eyes were burning, and I couldn’t see. I couldn’t fight or defend myself, so I hid beneath the dead and waited to join them.

  Then it ended, just like that. Roken shifted into his human form and passed out. Seb carried him off.” Arlo couldn’t find the words for how he had felt that day. Standing alone in a field of blood. He felt empty, hollow, never without his pack before. When Oscar had stumbled to his feet nearby, he hadn’t wanted to kill him, but to run to him and find some kind of meaning or purpose. “We decided to find them, an unnamed vampire, and an unknown shifter. It was a long shot, and we didn’t know what we would do when we found them, but we needed a purpose. If you’d seen them in action, you’d be curious too.”

  Heather nodded. She was already curious, and she hadn’t seen them in action.

  “Took nigh on thirty years to find them, but the four of us have been together ever since.” Oscar shrugged, then dropped his head. Heather didn’t know half of what they all went through. That battle had changed all of them. And while four misfits together had been good to begin with, they were all too broken to fix each other.

  “It isn’t the same without being part of a pack, but Seb is my Alpha, and this is my pack now, even if they aren’t all shifters.”

  They were starting to ramble now, and Arlo could see they had barely scratched the surface of Heather’s questions. It was hard condensing so many years into a short story. Heather didn’t know the half of it, but it had been hard times and she didn't need to know the rest.

  Oscar was surprised at how open Arlo had been telling Heather about their past. Not that it was all that terrible compared to Seb and Roken. They were edging closer and closer to that dark tale, but that wasn’t their story to tell. “Come on, let’s do lunch,” he suggested. He needed another shower, and they’d hardly done any cleaning yet.

  “I’ll let the others know,” Arlo offered and disappeared from the room, his feet thumping on the stairs as he made his way up.

  “I’m sorry if I asked too much,” Heather muttered, twisting her hands nervously together.

  “You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Oscar smiled warmly. She had nothing to feel sorry for, so he took her hand in his to reassure her. He’d been anything but celibate through his long life, but he had never loved before. But now he felt something new, a desire to please her, to care for her, just to be with her. He had never understood people falling in love before, but maybe this was the beginning of something more. Finally, he understood what people meant when they spoke of the butterflies in their stomachs. Now he felt them too.

  Her hand was warm and soft, and she followed him willingly as he led the way to the kitchen. Heather struck him as the kind of woman who ate healthy, well-balanced meals, not the crap they had in the cupboards. They were going to need to
go shopping again.

  “Have a root through the cupboards, see if anything takes your fancy,” Oscar offered, wondering if they would have anything she liked. Or would she even recognize it if they did? What would she expect for lunch? Sandwiches? Crisps? Cake? She wouldn’t find any fruit if that was what she was looking for. There was nothing in the cupboards that would last less than a week.

  “I’m not sure what to have?” Heather commented, making it sound like a question so that Oscar wasn’t sure what it was.

  “We can go shopping later. The supermarket is open twenty-four hours, so we normally go around midnight when it’s quiet.”

  “Midnight?”

  She didn’t seem impressed with that, so Oscar explained, “Daylight. It doesn’t agree with us. Well, me in particular. Arlo isn’t so bothered, and Seb has learnt to cope.” Oscar shrugged. “You don’t have to come. You could just write a list.” But he had to wonder, Can she even remember how to write?

  She turned away from him then, her hands covering her face, shoulders shaking. It wasn’t until he heard her sobs that he even realised she was crying. Oscar moved to her side in an instant, wrapping his arms around her.

  “Your memory will return,” he comforted, planting a soft kiss on her neck. He liked being so close to her, comforting her, protecting her, consuming her. She smelt good, felt good in his arms, and when she turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his waist, it made him feel good too. He held her, planting kiss after kiss on the top of her head, deciding that he wouldn’t let go until her tears had stopped.

  “That's what I'm afraid of. I’m worried that it will come back. I’m worried I’ll remember why those men were after me, or a family that I have to go home to. I like it here. I don’t want to leave.”

  “We’ll never make you leave. You have a home here as long as you want it or need it.” Oscar couldn’t let her go. He wouldn't. He had gone to war for less, and he was willing to fight to keep her.

  The pair looked up as the door swung back on its hinges and Arlo entered. He stalled in the doorway, keen to avoid disturbing their moment of closeness, but torn between giving Oscar his space and offering comfort to the woman he was growing to love.

  “Tell the others its lunch time,” Oscar called softly, knowing Heather needed a moment to compose herself.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  T he screws weren't moving as Roken tried releasing their long-standing grip on the shelves. Holding the drill at shoulder height was making his muscles ache, so he shook his arms out. He’d ripped the last shelf from the wall after giving up on the electric screwdriver. And now he had Seb’s presence burning into him like he was some kind of inferior creature. Aching, frustrated, and intimidated, he pressed on, his gaze darting over to the book inscribed by Dharla. He would not touch that book with Seb sitting there.

  “Why are we so sure she isn’t just a lost human?” Roken sighed. Even the window didn’t offer him a break, just sideways glances from the vampires outside. He slammed his fist into the wall with a roar, cracking the plaster where he struck. Goddamn vampires! Were he free to, he would leap from the window and put an end to their bloodsucking ways.

  “Mind, we’re supposed to be fixing things not...” Seb’s hand set down on his shoulder, a scolding about the damage would have followed had Roken not flinched so violently.

  “Relax, Ro.” Seb lifted his hand. “You know why we are sure.”

  Roken nodded. He couldn’t explain it any better than Seb could. They just knew. Like Roken knew the men outside were vampires, he also knew she was... what? He didn’t know. And he couldn’t find what he didn’t know he was looking for. His hand swung at the wall again, but it stopped short, Seb’s hand clamped around his wrist.

  “Get off me!” Roken cried out, trying to pull free.

  Seb's gaze met his for only a moment before he relented. "Sorry," Seb said, releasing his wrist and stepping away.

  “I’m the one who should be sorry,” Roken sighed, lowering his head and his voice. “It’s just hard to find anything about her when it’s just a gut feeling we have to go on.”

  “What happened to you? Was it the drink? The hangover? Or her?” Seb questioned. “Think carefully. That could be the biggest clue we have to go on.”

  “It would be the only clue we have to go on,” Roken sighed again. It was hard to describe how he’d felt at that time. The hangover hadn’t helped, but it certainly hadn’t been to blame. No amount of alcohol could ever put him in the state of utopia he had felt during his intimate contact with Heather. Something about her at that moment had awakened long dormant senses. For the first time in almost a hundred years, he had felt a connection to his beast.

  Seb’s eyes looked down at the only book left unread. He hadn’t opened it in centuries. He still couldn’t. Just looking at the worn-out cover had his heart pounding in his chest.

  “Read it,” Seb ordered. “I can’t read it, but you can.”

  Roken nodded and picked up the faded old book with both hands, it’s weight too great for one, and opened it to the index. It was a very detailed book, covering a wide range of species, listed down the contents page. “Human conditions?” Roken read aloud. Something about that chapter piqued his interest. “Werewolf, vampire, zombie, witch, hunter, ghost, demonic possession...”

  “Could she be a witch?” Seb questioned. “They are ninety percent human.”

  Roken flicked to the page headed Witch and read aloud, “Mortal women, the genetics for witchcraft passed from mother to daughter. They have heightened empathy and awareness. Can draw confessions from unsuspecting targets through eye contact.”

  “Anything about sex?” Seb questioned, shifting the front of his trousers to ease the tightness in his groin.

  “No, but it could just be something about having a girl around the house. Nice, hot woman and we’re all panting like dogs.”

  “Not me,” Seb denied. He had more control over himself than that. Not that he could deny having feelings for her, but he wasn’t going to rush into a sexual relationship before she was ready. “Shut the fucking window, Ro. We’ve given enough of a show.” Seb turned away, clenching his fists in frustration.

  Roken reached for the latch and pulled the window closed, pausing for a moment. “The vampires are gone now. Decorating must be as boring to watch as it is to do.”

  “Probably gone home for lunch,” Seb said, glancing at his watch. “Speaking of which...” He looked up at Arlo coming to the doorway.

  “Heather’s feeling a little weepy, so we thought now would be a good time to stop for lunch,” Arlo called to them, then turned and walked away again.

  Seb and Roken entered the kitchen and, needing no prompting to help Arlo, set to work. Seb flicked on the kettle, and Oscar wondered if he knew about some secret ingredient in coffee or if he was just addicted to the taste. Roken had tastes of his own, and he and Arlo liked their meat. If they’d had bread, it could’ve passed as a normal lunch, but cold meats, crisps and chocolate bars would have to suffice.

  What an idiot I am! Heather thought. Crying over the lunch! She couldn't even blame it on the dusty dining room, as she had been sobbing well before the guys had even thought about making the room worthy of a meal. The four men had set up a lovely-looking lunch for her, but her fears still weighed on her mind. What if I can’t stay like this?

  There may not have been much choice for their lunch, but what they had, there was plenty of. Heather had so many promises that they would go shopping for her, but she couldn’t remember what foods she liked. Their arms, eyes, and voices were full of comfort and concern. It was obvious they didn’t like to see her upset, but Heather thought they seemed to understand her reasons. Arlo had told her himself he had been abandoned by his pack, and his emptiness was probably akin to how she was feeling. He had been saved by this mismatched group of meat eaters, perhaps she would be too.

  They’re certainly tucking into the raw meat well enough, Heather thought, then stopped he
rself. By tucking into raw meat, she meant eating rolled up slices of cold ham with impeccable table manners. Oh god, am I a vegetarian? she wondered, looking at the ham like it was poison.

  “I think I'm a vegetarian!” Her voice came out as a shriek of horror, surprising herself and the four men who just stared at her. What an idiot! she thought. She'd been sitting there, sobbing quietly, then suddenly screamed about being a vegetarian.

  “Well, that's ok.” Roken smiled and picked the plate up from the table. Arlo frowned, eyeing Roken suspiciously as the smaller shifter took the plate. He grinned mischievously and started walking from the room. Arlo scraped his chair back as he stood quickly, and Oscar giggled to himself as Arlo followed Roken. Roken started running and Arlo chased him out into the hall.

  “They like their meat,” Seb explained, straight faced. “Arlo is going to stop Ro from eating it all himself and then they will fight in the kitchen.”

  Heather looked at Oscar, who was giggling like a child who knew his siblings were about to get in trouble. Seb crossed his arms across his chest like a father who was waiting for one of them to get hurt just so he could say, ‘told you so.’ That left Heather the role of peacemaker, the mother of the household, and that made her smile.

  “I'll go and sort them out,” Heather said, as she slowly stood up and followed the sound of the commotion.

  Roken and Arlo froze as she entered. Roken held the plate, his other hand pushing against Arlo’s chest. Arlo was holding Roken's wrist above the tray with one hand, while his other hand gripped Roken’s shoulder. There were only two slices of ham left. Heather sauntered over as their eyes followed her, their bodies unmoving, then picked up both bits of ham and shoved them into her mouth. The tray dropped from Roken's fingers in shock, then the two men separated and stood like naughty children deprived of their treat.