#feamle reader insert

The warm summer night in Santa Carla wrapped around you like a familiar embrace, the air thick with the scent of saltwater, fried dough, and distant bonfires. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the crowds milling about—tourists laughing, kids chasing each other with cotton candy in hand, and the occasional shadowy figure lurking in the alleys.

You loved this place; it was chaotic, alive, and utterly yours. Or rather, it was theirs—the Lost Boys'. And by extension, yours too.

You'd been with them for months now, ever since that fateful night when David had first locked eyes with you under the Ferris wheel, his smirk promising danger and delight in equal measure. It hadn't taken long for the others to follow suit: Paul's wild energy pulling you into endless nights of laughter, Marko's playful teasing making you feel seen, Dwayne's quiet strength grounding you when the world spun too fast.

They were a package deal, these four vampires, and you'd fallen hard into their web. Possessive? Absolutely. But it was a possession born of fierce love, not control. They let you roam free, knowing you'd always come back to them. Still, jealousy simmered just beneath the surface, especially when outsiders got too close.

Tonight, you were wandering a bit ahead of the pack, drawn to a colorful stall selling handmade jewelry—silver chains glinting under string lights, beaded bracelets in every hue. The vendor was a young guy, maybe in his early twenties, with sun-bleached hair and an easygoing smile that screamed "surfer dude." He caught your eye as you picked up a delicate necklace with a moon-shaped pendant.

"That's one of my favorites," he said, leaning over the counter with a grin. "Hand-carved from abalone shell. Suits someone with your vibe—mysterious, you know?"

You chuckled, holding it up to the light. "Mysterious? That's a new one. Usually, people just call me 'that girl with the scary guys.' How much?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "For you? Fifteen bucks. But tell me, what's a girl like you doing out here alone? Boardwalk can get rough after dark."

"Oh, I'm not alone," you replied lightly, fishing for cash in your pocket. It was innocent enough, small talk to pass the time while you browsed. But as you glanced up, you felt it: that prickling awareness on the back of your neck. They were watching.

The boys had been lingering nearby, sprawled out on a bench like kings surveying their kingdom. Paul was mid-joke, probably something crude about the latest horror flick playing at the drive-in, when his laughter cut off abruptly. His blue eyes narrowed, zeroing in on you and the vendor. Marko, ever the firecracker, straightened up, his wild curls seeming to bristle like a cat's fur. Dwayne's broad shoulders tensed, his dark gaze turning stormy as he crossed his arms over his chest. And David—oh, David. His usual cool demeanor cracked just a fraction, that platinum hair catching the light as his smile sharpened into something predatory, like a blade unsheathed.

They didn't rush over. No, that wasn't their style. Not yet. Instead, they began to drift, casual as shadows lengthening at dusk. Paul sauntered first, hands in his pockets, but his usual grin was gone, replaced by a pout that bordered on sulky. Marko followed, tossing his hair back with exaggerated nonchalance, though you could see the way his fingers twitched, itching for action. Dwayne moved like a panther, silent and deliberate, his presence alone enough to make the air feel heavier. David brought up the rear, gloves creaking softly as he flexed his hands.

You were still chatting with the vendor, now about the best spots for night surfing, of all things, when you sensed them closing in. The stall suddenly felt smaller, the space around you shrinking as the four of them formed a loose circle, their bodies a living barrier between you and the rest of the world.

The vendor's words trailed off mid-sentence. His easy smile faltered as he looked up, realizing he was now surrounded by four very intense men. They weren't glaring outright—nothing so obvious—but the energy they radiated was unmistakable. Possessive. Territorial. Like wolves staking claim on their territory.

David stepped in closest, his hand sliding onto your hip with casual possession, fingers curling just enough to pull you a fraction toward him. The touch was light, but it sent a shiver through you, a reminder of the nights you'd spent tangled in their arms, their fangs grazing your skin in ways that blurred pain and pleasure.

"She's busy," David said simply, his voice smooth as silk but edged with steel. His eyes never left the vendor's, that sharp smile widening just enough to show a hint of fang—subtle, but there if you knew where to look.

The poor guy stammered, his face paling under the neon glow. "Uh, yeah, sure, man. No problem. Enjoy the necklace." He backed away hastily, nearly knocking over a display of earrings in his rush to busy himself with another customer who didn't exist.

You turned to face the four of them, arms crossed over your chest, trying to suppress a smile. "Really? He was just being nice."

Paul threw his hands up dramatically, his pout deepening into something almost comical. "Nice? Babe, he was totally flirting! Did you see the way he leaned in? 'Mysterious vibe', please. That's code for 'I wanna get in your pants.'"

Marko snorted, leaning against the stall's edge with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're too cute for your own good, you know that? Not our fault, we have to chase off the strays. What if he tried something?"

Dwayne didn't say much; he rarely did in these moments, but he stepped closer, his hand brushing your arm in a gentle contrast to the tension in his jaw. "We... didn't like it," he murmured, his voice low and rumbling, like thunder on the horizon. His dark eyes met yours, and you saw the flicker of vulnerability there, hidden beneath the possessiveness. They were immortal, powerful, but when it came to you, they were achingly human-like in their fears.

David's grip on your hip tightened just a touch before relaxing, his other hand coming up to tilt your chin toward him. "If he'd touched you, I'd—" He paused as you shot him a warning look, those piercing blue eyes of his sparkling with mischief. "—I would have politely asked him to reconsider his life choices."

You couldn't help it; laughter bubbled out of you, breaking the tension like a wave crashing on the shore. The sound seemed to melt them instantly. Paul's pout vanished, replaced by his infectious grin as he slung an arm around your shoulders. Marko chuckled, ruffling your hair affectionately. Dwayne's shoulders relaxed, a small smile tugging at his lips. Even David softened, his sharp edges dulling as he pressed a cool kiss to your forehead.

"You're impossible, all of you," you said, shaking your head. But there was no real annoyance in your voice, only fondness. Being with them meant navigating this dance of jealousy and love, and truthfully, it thrilled you. They weren't trying to cage you; they just loved you loudly, fiercely, in a way that made the world feel a little less lonely.

The boardwalk buzzed around you, oblivious to the little drama that had unfolded. Paul tugged you toward the Ferris wheel, his energy bouncing back like a rubber band. "C'mon, let's ride this thing before Marko starts whining about being hungry."

"I'm always hungry," Marko shot back, falling into step beside you. "But for once, it's not blood I'm craving—funnel cake?"

Dwayne walked on your other side, his hand finding yours in a quiet claim. David lingered behind, watching over the group like the leader he was, but you felt his gaze on you, warm despite his calm demeanor.

As the night wore on, you found yourself sandwiched between them on the Ferris wheel, the city lights sprawling out below like a sea of stars. Paul's head rested on your shoulder, Marko chattering about some prank he wanted to pull on the local surfers. Dwayne's arm was around your waist, steady and sure. David sat across, his knee brushing yours, that possessive spark still in his eyes but tempered now with contentment.

"You know we don't mean to smother you," David said quietly, when the others were distracted by the view. "It's just... you're ours. And we're yours. Seeing someone else look at you like that, it stirs things up."

You reached out, lacing your fingers with his. "I get it. And honestly? It's kind of hot when you all get like that. As long as you don't actually hurt anyone."

He smirked, bringing your hand to his lips for a kiss that lingered a beat too long. "Deal. Polite reconsiderations only."

The wheel creaked to a stop at the top, the wind whipping through your hair. Down below, the vendor's stall was a tiny speck, forgotten already. Up here, with them, you felt untouchable—loved in a way that was wild, eternal, and just a little dangerous.

Later, as the boys led you toward the cave, promises of a quieter night whispering in your ear, you reflected on how far you'd come from a lone wanderer on the boardwalk to the center of their world. Jealousy might look good on them, but belonging? That felt even better.

The cave welcomed you like an old friend, the dim torchlight flickering over the makeshift beds and scattered treasures they'd collected over the years. Paul immediately cranked up the boombox, blasting some hair metal anthem that had Marko headbanging in seconds. Dwayne busied himself with lighting more candles, casting a golden glow that softened the space's rough edges.

You collapsed onto the pile of blankets that served as your shared nest, the necklace still clutched in your hand. "You guys didn't have to scare him off so fast. I was about to haggle the price down."

David chuckled, shedding his coat and joining you, his body cool against yours as he pulled you into his lap. "Next time, we'll let you handle it. Maybe."

Paul flopped down beside you, nuzzling into your neck with exaggerated affection. "Or we could just intimidate him into giving you everything for free. Problem solved!"

Marko joined the pile, sprawling out with his head on your thigh. "Tempting. But where's the fun in that? I like watching her work her magic."

Dwayne settled in last, his presence a calming anchor as he draped an arm over Paul. The five of you tangled together like puzzle pieces, the earlier jealousy forgotten in the warmth of your bond.

The boardwalk lights flickered like dying stars as you hurried away from the crowd, your heart still pounding from the close call. You’d been cutting through a dimly lit alley near the carousel, which was stupid, in hindsight, when those three surf Nazis cornered you.

Their leers and crude comments had turned threatening fast, hands grabbing at your jacket, until a low growl cut through the night.

Then the boys showed up.

David had appeared first, silent and predatory, his platinum hair catching the neon glow. The others flanked him like shadows come to life: Paul with his wild mane and wicked grin, Marko bouncing on his heels like he was itching for a fight, and Dwayne, tall and brooding, cracking his knuckles without a word.

It was over in seconds. A blur of leather, the boys glared just enough to terrify, and the punks scattered like roaches. You hadn’t even had time to scream.

Now, as they escorted you toward the cliffs, the adrenaline crash left you shaky. The ocean roared below, matching the chaos in your chest.

“You sure you’re okay, babe?” Paul asked, slinging an arm around your shoulders. His touch was casual, but his eyes scanned the darkness behind you.

“Yeah,” you muttered, though your voice wavered. “Just... thanks. Again.”

Marko smirked, walking backward to face you. “Told you the boardwalk gets rough after midnight. Should’ve stuck with us.”

Dwayne rode silently on his bike beside the group, but his dark eyes flicked to you often, protective.

David led the way, his coat billowing like wings. He hadn’t said much during the rescue, just a cold “Back off” that sent chills down your spine, but now he glanced over his shoulder. “You’re not going home alone tonight.”

It wasn’t a question.

You protested weakly. Your apartment was across town, and it was late, but the idea of walking alone now made your skin crawl. Still, crashing with four vampire bikers you’d only been hanging out with for a couple of weeks? The ones who’d been flirting shamelessly, teasing you about joining their ‘pack’?

“Come on,” Paul coaxed, nudging you with his hip. “Our place is closer. Safer.”

“Just one night,” Dwayne added quietly, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.

“Or twelve,” Paul grinned.

“Or forever,” Marko chimed in with a wink.

David said nothing. He just stopped at the cave entrance hidden in the cliffs, turned, and draped his long leather coat over your shoulders. It swallowed you whole, heavy with the scent of smoke, ocean salt, and something darkly metallic. It felt like a claim, possessive and warm despite the chill of his skin.

You shivered, pulling it tighter. “Fine. One night.”

The cave was just as you remembered from that first daring visit, lit by flickering torches and stolen candles, cluttered with stolen treasures, old bottles, and a massive fountain in the center that trickled like a mocking hotel lobby. But tonight, it felt different. Safer. Like a den.

The boys kicked off their boots, shedding jackets and gloves. Paul cranked up a battered radio, some old rock station crackling to life. Marko raided a cooler for... well, you didn’t ask what was in those bottles. Dwayne disappeared into a side chamber and returned with a pile of mismatched blankets.

You hovered awkwardly near the entrance, unsure. “I can just crash on the couch or—”

David’s low chuckle cut you off. “You don’t want the couch, sweetheart.”

He nodded toward the main chamber, where a massive, sunken mattress dominated the space—piled high with pillows, blankets, and god knows what else. It looked like a nest, chaotic and inviting.

Paul flopped onto it dramatically, face-first, groaning like he’d been waiting for this all night. “Come on, join the pile!”

You hesitated, but Marko was already tugging your hand, his curls bouncing. “It’s comfier than it looks. Promise.”

Dwayne settled near the edge, leaning against the headboard or what passed for one, which in reality was a carved rock wall, watching with that quiet fondness he reserved for his brothers... and now, apparently, you.

David waited, arms crossed, until you finally toed off your shoes and climbed onto the mattress. It was huge—big enough for all five of you without touching, but that clearly wasn’t the plan.

Paul rolled over, patting the spot next to him. You lie down stiffly in the center, staring at the cave ceiling draped with old tapestries.

Then they followed.

Paul flopped face-first beside you with a contented sigh, his blond hair tickling your arm. Marko curled against your back like a mischievous cat, one arm draping over your waist, his breath cool on your neck. Dwayne stretched out near your feet, one large hand resting lightly on your ankle, as if anchoring you. And David... David claimed the spot behind Marko, but his presence loomed—until he shifted, his cool hand settling possessively at your waist as he half lay over Marko.

The mattress dipped under their weight, enveloping you in a tangle of limbs and leather-scented warmth. They were cold at first, like marble statues come to life, but your body heat seeped into them, and soon it was a cocoon of soft chaos.

“You’re safe,” David murmured against your ear, his voice a low vibration that sent shivers down your spine.

“From what?” you whispered, half-teasing, half-genuine. Your heart hammered—part fear, part something else entirely.

“Everything,” he answered simply. His thumb traced lazy circles on your hip through your shirt. “Including us. Unless you ask otherwise.”

Paul lifted his head, grinning lazily. “We don’t bite… unless you want us to.”

Marko snickered into your shoulder, nipping playfully at the fabric of David’s coat still draped over you. “Speak for yourself, dude.”

Dwayne’s hand squeezed your ankle gently, a silent reassurance.

You laughed nervously, the sound echoing softly in the cave. But as the minutes ticked by, the tension melted. Paul’s fingers idly played with a strand of your hair. Marko hummed an off-key tune, his body relaxing fully against yours. Dwayne’s quiet breathing (unnecessary, but habitual) steadied you. And David’s hand never moved from your waist, a steady claim.

Surrounded by four vampires who could tear the world apart but chose instead to guard your sleep, you felt... cherished. Wanted.

Your eyelids grew heavy, the sound of waves crashing outside lulling you. Each one of them pretended not to listen to the rapid thrum of your heartbeat, savoring it like a secret symphony.

As sleep claimed you, tangled in their nest, you couldn’t help but wonder if “one night” would ever be enough.

A chaotic symphony of laughter, screams, and crashing waves could be heard as you weave through the boardwalk crowd, the scent of saltwater and fried food clinging to the air. Your heart thumps, not from the noise, but from the four pairs of eyes you know are watching you. They’re always watching.

David leads the pack, his platinum hair catching the moonlight as he strides with that predatory grace. His gloved hand brushes your wrist, a deliberate touch that sends a shiver up your spine. “Keep up, darlin’,” he murmurs, his voice low, laced with that dangerous charm that first drew you in. You smirk, meeting his icy blue gaze. You never make it easy for him.

Behind you, Paul’s voice cuts through the din, half-singing, half-laughing, some ridiculous hair-metal tune he’s been obsessed with all week. His wild blond curls bounce as he jogs to catch up, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “C’mon, babe, let’s hit the Ferris wheel! You, me, and a view of the stars!” His enthusiasm is infectious, but you roll your eyes, nudging him off.

“Not tonight, Paul,” you say, your tone teasing but firm. He pouts, but it’s all for show. He’d follow you anywhere.

Marko’s next, darting out from the shadows like a cat, his patchwork jacket a blur as he grabs your hand and tugs you toward the ocean’s edge. “Fuck the rides,” he says, his grin all teeth, wild and sharp. “Let’s get wet.”

Before you can protest, he’s pulling you into the shallow waves, the cold water biting at your ankles. You laugh, shoving him, and he stumbles dramatically, only to splash you back. His golden curls stick to his face, and his eyes—those mischievous, hungry eyes—lock onto yours like you’re the only thing in the world.

Dwayne lingers at the edge of the group, his dark eyes scanning the horizon, always watching, always protecting. He doesn’t say much, but when he does, it’s with a weight that makes you listen. “Don’t stray too far,” he says now, his voice soft but carrying over the crash of the waves.

You nod, knowing he’s not just talking about the water.

This is your life now. The Lost Boys. Your boys.

It wasn’t always like this. A month ago, you were just another face on the boardwalk, a runaway with a chip on your shoulder and a knack for trouble. You’d come to Santa Carla looking for freedom, not love, and certainly not whatever this was—something deeper, darker, more binding than any human connection could ever be.

It started with a dare. David, leaning against his bike, cigarette dangling from his lips, had sized you up like you were prey. “Think you can handle us?” he’d asked, his smirk daring you to say yes. You’d laughed in his face, all bravado and no sense, but something in his eyes made your heart race—not with fear, but with want.

Paul had been next, charming you with his easy grin and endless energy, sneaking you beers from a vendor who didn’t card. Marko had stolen your attention with his reckless stunts, flipping off railings and dodging security as if it were a game. And Dwayne… Dwayne had just watched, his silence drawing you in until you found yourself seeking him out, craving the way his gaze made you feel seen.

They didn’t just want you. They consumed you.

The night they invited you to join them was nothing like the movies. No grand speeches, no candlelit rituals. Just the five of you in a cave, the air thick with salt and secrets. David had knelt before you, his hands steady on your hips, his voice low and serious. “This isn’t a game,” he’d said. “You’re either in, or you’re out.”

You didn’t say yes. Words felt too small for what they were asking. Instead, you’d tilted your head, exposing your throat, and let them take what they needed. David’s fangs had pierced first, sharp and searing, followed by Paul’s eager bite, Marko’s teasing nip, and Dwayne’s slow, deliberate claim. The pain had been blinding, but it melted into something else—something warm, something alive.

And then they’d offered their own blood, a crimson pact that bound you to them. You drank from David’s wrist, the taste metallic and electric, then Paul’s, then Marko’s, and finally Dwayne’s, his hand steadying you as you swallowed. It wasn’t just blood. It was them—their essence, their hunger, their fire. It coursed through you, remaking you into something new. Not quite human, not quite vampire. Something else entirely.

Now, as you stand ankle-deep in the Pacific, Marko’s laughter ringing in your ears, you feel the weight of that bond. Four bite marks scar your skin: one on your throat, one on your wrist, one on your shoulder, and one just below your collarbone. They’re not just marks—they’re claims, each one a piece of them etched into you forever. David’s is precise, a perfect crescent. Paul’s is messy, a little too deep, like he couldn’t help himself. Marko’s is jagged, like he was playing with you even as he bit. Dwayne’s is careful, almost tender, placed where only he would see it.

You wear them like a necklace, a twisted, beautiful thing that marks you as theirs. But it’s more than that. They’re yours, too. You feel it in the way David’s eyes soften when you challenge him, in the way Paul’s voice cracks when he sings for you, in the way Marko’s chaos calms when you touch him, in the way Dwayne’s silence speaks louder than words.

The boardwalk fades behind you as you wade deeper into the water, Marko still tugging at your hand. Paul’s now splashing alongside, his shirt already soaked and clinging to his chest. David stands on the shore, watching with that possessive glint in his eye, while Dwayne moves closer, his boots sinking into the wet sand.

“You’re gonna regret this,” you call to Marko, your voice light but laced with a challenge. He grins, pulling you further until the water hits your thighs.

“Never,” he says, and then he’s on you, tackling you into the waves. You go down laughing, the cold shocking your system, but his arms are warm, solid, holding you against him as the tide rolls over you both. Paul dives in next, his whoop echoing across the beach, and even David cracks a smile from the shore.

Dwayne wades in, his movements slow, deliberate. He doesn’t join the chaos, but he’s there, pulling you up when a wave knocks you off balance. His hand lingers on your waist, steadying you, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you—the roar of the ocean, the weight of his gaze.

“You good?” he asks, his voice low, meant only for you.

You nod, brushing wet hair from your face. “Better than good.”

He doesn’t smile, but his eyes do, crinkling at the edges in that way that makes your heart stutter.

The night stretches on, endless and perfect. You end up sprawled on the beach, the five of you tangled together on a blanket Paul stole from somewhere. David’s arm is draped over your shoulders, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. Paul’s head rests in your lap, his humming soft and content. Marko sprawled out beside you, sketching in the sand with a stick, while Dwayne sat cross-legged, watching the horizon like he was guarding you all from some unseen threat.

This is your eternity now. Not just the blood, not just the bites, but this—the messy, beautiful chaos of them. They’re not perfect. David’s too controlling, Paul’s too reckless, Marko’s too wild, Dwayne’s too tense. But they’re yours, and you’re theirs, and that’s enough.

“You ever think about running?” David asks suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet. His fingers pause on your skin, waiting.

You tilt your head to meet his gaze. “Where would I go?” you say, not a question but a statement. “You’d find me.”

His lips curve, not quite a smile but close. “Damn right we would.”

Paul laughs, rolling onto his side to look up at you. “You’re stuck with us, babe. No take-backs.”

Marko snorts, flicking sand at Paul. “Like she’d want to leave. Look at us. We’re fucking irresistible.”

Dwayne doesn’t say anything, but his hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that says more than words ever could.

You lean back, staring up at the stars, the weight of their presence grounding you. The ocean roars, the boardwalk hums, and the night stretches out before you, endless and wild. You’re not just theirs. They’re not just yours. You’re something more, something new, bound by blood and fire and the kind of love that doesn’t have a name.

The night air is thick with the scent of salt and pine, the distant crash of waves against the Santa Carla cliffs a faint rhythm beneath the chaos unfolding around you.

Your wrists ache, bound tightly with coarse rope that bites into your skin, and the cold metal chair you're strapped to sends shivers racing up your spine. The abandoned warehouse around you is a skeleton of rusted beams and broken windows, the perfect hideout for a lone vampire hunter who's decided you're the key to his revenge.

He paces in front of you, a wiry man with a scarred face and a crossbow slung over his shoulder. His name's Carver, you caught it when he muttered it to himself earlier, like a mantra to keep his nerve.

His eyes glint with a mix of desperation and triumph as he adjusts the silver-tipped bolts in his weapon. He's been hunting your boys for weeks, tracking their nocturnal habits, their laughter echoing through the boardwalk, their bikes tearing up the coastal roads.

But instead of finding them tonight, he found you. The human mate of the Lost Boys. The weak link, or so he thinks.

"You're gonna tell me where they nest," Carver growls, his voice rough as gravel. He leans in close, the stale smell of tobacco and sweat hitting you like a wall. "I've seen you with 'em. Laughing, clinging to those monsters like they're your damn boyfriends. You're human, girl. What's wrong with you?"

You grit your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Your heart pounds, not just from fear, but from the sharp, tugging pain that's been growing in your chest ever since he dragged you here. It's them, your boys. They can feel you through the bond, a connection that's grown stronger with every night you've spent in their arms. They know you're hurting, and they're coming for you.

Carver doesn't like your silence. He grabs a knife from his belt, its blade glinting in the dim light filtering through the cracked windows, and presses it against your face. "Let's see if a little blood loosens that tongue," he sneers, dragging the edge across your skin.

A thin line of red wells up, and you bite back a cry, your vision blurring with tears. The pain isn't just yours—it's theirs too. You can almost hear Paul's wild howl, Marko's furious snarl, Dwayne's steady growl, and David's icy command cutting through the night.

Somewhere in the distance, the roar of motorcycle engines splits the air. They're close. Carver freezes, his head snapping toward the sound, and a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. "Good," he mutters. "They're taking the bait."

You want to scream at him, tell him he's a fool for thinking he can take them on, but the words catch in your throat as he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back. "Let's give 'em a show," he says, and before you can brace yourself, he drives the knife into your shoulder.

This time, you can't hold back the scream—it rips out of you, raw and desperate, echoing off the warehouse walls.

The engines grow louder, a thunderous symphony of rage and power, and then the wall explodes inward. Shards of wood and glass rain down as four familiar figures burst through on their bikes, tires screeching against the concrete floor.

David's at the front, his platinum hair wild and his eyes glowing an unnatural gold, his leather coat billowing like a dark cape. Dwayne's beside him, silent and lethal, his dark gaze locked on you with a promise of retribution. Paul's grinning, but it's feral, all teeth and madness, his blonde curls bouncing as he revs his engine. Marko's last, his patchwork jacket a blur as he leaps off his bike before it even stops, already reaching for the hunter.

Carver stumbles back, raising his crossbow, but he's too slow. Marko's on him in an instant, slamming him against a rusted beam with a force that cracks the metal. "You touched our girl," Marko hisses, his voice dripping with venom. Paul's laughter rings out as he circles around, cutting off any escape, while Dwayne dismounts and moves to your side, his hands gentle but trembling with barely contained fury as he unties your ropes.

David doesn't move from his bike, but his presence fills the room, cold and commanding. "You're a dead man," he says to Carver, his voice low and final, like a judge passing sentence. "But first, you're gonna suffer."

Dwayne frees you, pulling you into his arms as the ropes fall away. His warmth is a stark contrast to the chill of the chair, and you cling to him, your shoulder throbbing, blood soaking into your shirt. "We've got you," he murmurs, his lips brushing your forehead. "You're safe now."

But you're not, not yet. Carver's still alive, struggling in Marko's grip, and the boys aren't done.

Paul grabs the crossbow from the floor and snaps it in half like it's a toy, tossing the pieces aside with a cackle. "Should've stayed home, buddy," he taunts, cracking his knuckles.

Marko tightens his hold, his fangs glinting as he leans in close to Carver's face. "You hurt her. You don't get to walk away from that."

David finally slides off his bike, his boots clicking against the concrete as he approaches you. He kneels in front of you, his gloved hand tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes soften for a moment, just for you, before hardening again as he takes in the blood on your arm and shoulder.

"He's not wrong," David says, his voice a dangerous whisper. "No one touches you and lives."

You shake your head, your voice shaky but firm. "Don't... don't kill him yet. He might know something. Other hunters, maybe." You're not sure why you say it; maybe it's the adrenaline, or perhaps it's the part of you that's still human, still clinging to mercy. But the boys listen, because it's you.

David's lips twitch into a smirk, and he nods at Marko. "Hold him. We'll bleed him for answers later." Marko grins, dragging Carver toward a corner of the warehouse, while Paul follows, already cracking jokes about how much fun they'll have.

Dwayne's still holding you, his hand pressed against your shoulder to slow the bleeding, but his eyes are dark with something deeper than anger and more than fear. "You're hurt bad," he says quietly. "We can't let this happen again."

David stands, his gaze shifting between you and the others. "You're right about one thing: we can't keep her like this. Fragile. Human." His words hang heavy in the air, and you feel a jolt of something— anticipation, dread, and acceptance, all at once.

Paul bounds over, his energy wild but his touch gentle as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. "You'd be unstoppable with us, babe. No more hunters, no more pain. Just you and your boys, forever."

You look between them—David's intensity, Dwayne's quiet strength, Paul's chaotic devotion, and Marko's fierce loyalty, and you know what they're asking. What they've been hinting at for weeks, ever since you stumbled into their world and they claimed you as theirs. The bond's already there, tying you to them in ways you can't explain, but this… this would seal it.

"I don't want to lose you," you whisper, your voice breaking. "Any of you."

"You won't," David says, stepping closer, his hand resting over Dwayne's on your shoulder. "You'll be stronger than ever. And we'll never let anyone touch you again."

The warehouse is silent for a moment, save for Carver's ragged breathing in the corner and the distant hum of the ocean. Your heart races, the pain in your body warring with the fire in your soul. You've always known this day might come, that loving them might mean leaving your humanity behind. And now, with the hunter's blood on the floor and their eyes on you, you make your choice.

"Okay, I'll do it," you say, your voice steady despite the tears in your eyes, feeling them applying pressure to the stab wound. "Make me like you."

David's smirk turns into a full, predatory grin, and the others close in, their presence overwhelming but comforting all at once. Dwayne lifts you gently, cradling you against his chest as they lead you toward the bikes, away from Carver's curses and the wreckage of the night.

The last thing you feel as a human that night is the sting of their fangs. Four sets, one after another, claiming you fully, binding you to them in blood and eternity. Then the sensation of David's blood slipping through your lips and down your throat.

The last thing you hear is their voices, a chorus of love and triumph, promising you a forever where nothing, not even a hunter's blade, can tear you apart.