warnings: vampire stuff. gets a little steamy when Rowan takes a chomp
a/n: and now i’ve introduced TOG to my repertoire, i’m so excited. written for day 4 of @polysjmweek
You hadn’t known what they were at first.
Rowan had found you in the woods, drenched in rain and trembling from the cold, your ankle twisted from a misstep on the rocks. You’d told him to fuck off when he approached, all of your instincts screaming predator. With his unnaturally silver hair and massive shoulders, but he only smirked and carried you in those strong, unyielding arms like you weighed nothing.
He’d taken you to his house, promising sanctuary from whoever you had been running from in those woods. That’s when Aelin appeared with her long golden hair and striking eyes. When she first looked at you, you thought you might combust from her unworldly beauty.
What was only supposed to be a few days of you harboring away in their house turned to months, and then years. Somewhere along the way, love grew between the three of you like a fire. Starting off as a tinder until it burned into a bright, hot flame.
They never told you outright, but the clues had stacked. Their nightly wanderings. The way they could see and hear so much better than you. The hushed whispers you heard when they thought you slept.
And then, one night Rowan returned injured. Blood soaked his tunic, his skin torn and revealing a gaping wound. Aelin was frantic, pacing, snapping at him, her hands trembling as she tried to help.
Your voice broke through their storm, your offer soft but certain. “Drink from me.”
Aelin had frozen. Rowan’s jaw clenched.
“You don’t understand what you’re offering,” he growled.
“I do,” you whispered. “Let me help you.”
He looked to Aelin, and at her hesitant nod, he stepped forward. His eyes burned with hunger and worry. When he leaned in, his breath tickled your neck. Warm and intimate.
“Tell me to stop,” he said.
You didn’t.
His fangs sank in slowly, deliberately. Pain sparked, sharp and fleeting, then heat bloomed like wildfire in your veins. A shudder wracked your body, your fingers digging into his shoulders as his mouth moved against your skin, his tongue teasing at the bite. It was electric and intoxicating. The way his body pressed to yours, the low, hungry sound in his throat.
When his fangs released you, Rowan moved to kiss your collarbone, his lips brushing reverently before they parted. When his teeth pierced your skin again on the other side of your neck, a moan escaped you. His hands around your waist tightened, grounding you.
With his arms around you, his lips at your throat, and his heart beating in perfect time with yours, you thought you might die from ecstasy.
But then he pulled away, one hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his. You understood why once he did it, you were dizzy, the world spinning around you as you nearly lost your balance.
“Easy,” he murmured.
He ushered you to the seat Aelin had pulled out, guiding you to sit down and your hands gripped the armrests.
Aelin rushed over with a glass of juice and a pack of cookies, placing them on your lap and the glass in your hands. “Here, it’ll help you feel better.”
You drank the juice greedily, your swallowing audible until you finished the glass. You picked up a cookie and took a bite, humming as the flavor reached your tongue. Chocolate chip. Simple. Delectable.
Rowan crouched down in front of you, resting his large hands on your knees. “How do you feel?”
“Good,” you mumbled around the cookie in your mouth. You raised your hand to cover it, remembering your manners, and Aelin laughed.
“I think she’ll live, buzzard.”
He glared at her over his shoulder before returning his gaze to you. “I suppose we should talk about this…new development.”
A quick glance at his chest, where there was once a cut as wide as two of your fingers, told you that you were right. He was healed. By your blood.
You placed the pack of cookies on the table next to you. “What’s there to talk about?”
Aelin and Rowan glanced at each other. “Does blood loss usually cause memory loss too?” Aelin whispered.
“I don’t believe so,” he whispered back.
“I can hear you, you know,” you grouched.
Their heads whipped back to you. “I know what you are. It’s okay,” you said.
Aelin approached slowly from behind Rowan, resting her hands on his shoulders as she tilted her head at you. “What are we?”
You swallowed. “Vampires. You’re vampires.”
Rowan just watched you with that ice-cold face of his, his jaw ticking.
Aelin smiled, showing her fangs. “I told you she was smart, our little human.”
After that night, they had been more open with you. Telling you they were going out to feed instead of making up some excuse for why one of them needed to leave the house as soon as the sun went down. Aelin had fed from you eventually, but neither of them liked to do it often. They worried about how it made you feel, what it could do to their fragile human. They plan to keep you around as long as possible, Aelin had told you.
Tonight was one of the rare nights you went out with them. You felt bad that someone always had to stay home hungry with you until it was their turn to hunt, so you offered to go out to a tavern where they could more quickly change shifts from watching over you to finding their meal.
The tavern was loud and smoky, lit with the golden flicker of torchlight and filled with the scent of spiced wine and woodsmoke. You’d only stepped away from your booth for a moment—to get more drinks for Aelin and Rowan, who lounged like predators watching the room from the shadows. Their eyes never left you, not even to scour for their next victim.
A man at the bar leaned in close before you could even speak to the barkeep. Too close. His smile was cocky, his eyes raking over you like you were prey.
“You here alone, sweetheart?” he asked.
You took a step back. “Not at all.”
“Don’t see anyone beside you.” His gaze dropped to your throat. “Pretty mark you’ve got there. Someone bite too hard, or were you begging for it?”
Before you could reply, Rowan was there.
His hand was a vice on the man’s shoulder. “That mark,” Rowan said, voice low and deadly, “is mine.”
The man started to stammer but froze when Aelin slid in from the other side.
She didn’t speak at first, just tilted her head, golden hair falling over one shoulder. “Do you want to know what I do to men who talk to our girl like that?”
The man stammered again, trying to tug free from Rowan’s iron grip.
“I could remove his tongue,” Aelin said thoughtfully, examining her nails. “Or maybe you want to do it, buzzard?”
Rowan’s smile was all teeth. “Tempting.”
Your hand touched his arm, the tension in his muscles vibrating under your palm.
“Enough,” you murmured. “He’s not worth it.”
They didn’t take their eyes off him as he fled, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Aelin turned to you first, her fingers brushing the side of your face, gentle now. “He shouldn’t have looked at you like that.”
“He didn’t touch me,” you whispered.
“He thought about it,” Rowan said, pulling you into his chest.
“And thinking about touching what’s ours is enough,” Aelin purred, kissing your neck right beside the old mark, tongue brushing over the scar.
You shivered.
Rowan leaned in, breath hot on your skin. “You’re ours, little bird. No one else’s.”
And later that night, when you all returned to the house after Aelin cornered that sleazy man in the alley behind the tavern, their hands roamed over you. Their tongues teased and licked, and then their fangs sank into your neck—together this time.
