Summers felt as though he were trapped in a surreal fucking nightmare.

They had been escorted to an idyllic university town beside a lake, then handed over to supernatural soldiers who could probably snap his neck with barely any effort. They had each been given a book regarded as a sacred text, one filled entirely with consent-based relationship ethics, sex advice and guidance on navigating relationships.

From there, their blood-pact removals had been scheduled. They had received a crash course on the supernatural and discovered that the supernatural world had recently formed a new alliance, which was now undergoing major reforms based largely on that same sacred text.

They had even been invited to accept cushy surveillance jobs at the local university, monitoring the human population and protecting the supernatural community. Apparently, the area was expecting a significant supernatural population boom.

Then, the moment they arrived at their temporary accommodation, the first thing the boys had asked about was the local real-estate market.

They had been shown three houses and unanimously selected the only one within walking distance of a gym.

And then they had bought it.

Within an hour of seeing it.

Even the Alliance representatives had looked surprised.

The boys, however, had grinned like excited loons despite their blood-pact headaches and occasional nosebleeds, while Summers was still trying to work out how to wake himself from whatever surreal nightmare he had fallen into.

Honestly, what the fuck was happening?

Now they were sitting in a classroom, waiting for their blood-pact removal procedures after having just learned more about the people who had rescued them.

Milo Magnus was apparently the Alliance’s Grand Marshal and the author of Mind, Body, and Willing Touch.

Their former boss was under investigation for a long list of serious and long-standing ethical violations connected to his research. It also turned out that, despite being beheaded and dismembered, the fucker was not actually dead. Once the investigation was complete, he would be put on trial.

Whatever.

Summers never wanted to see the bastard again.

He just wanted this fucking migraine to disappear so he could be certain he had not hallucinated the entire rescue, relocation and spontaneous purchase of a house.

“Fuck,” Ben said. “I should’ve read this book years ago.”

Of course, he had flipped straight to the practical sex instructions.

“Same,” Kyle said.

“Me too,” Hart agreed quietly.

Then Hart looked up at Tallus, their guide, with genuine incredulity.

“And this is standard issue in the military now?”

Tallus nodded proudly.

“It is. We’ve already seen significant improvements in overall mental health, and recruitment has also begun showing a noticeable increase.”

Hart looked down at the book as though it had arrived years too late.

“Will there be classes?” Summers asked.

Tallus beamed.

“Of course. The Dawnbreakers hold several reading sessions every day. You’re welcome to attend any of them.”

Summers pulled out his own copy of the book and began flipping through it.

“Just give us the schedule.”

“Excellent,” Tallus said. “I look forward to seeing all of you there. And don’t hesitate to ask any of the Dawnbreakers if you have questions.”

They all nodded.

Summers felt as though he were finally losing his grip on reality.

Fuck it.

He fact he’d survived this long was a fucking miracle.

Once Tallus left, locking the door behind him while they waited for their blood-pact removal appointments, Ben leaned back with a satisfied sigh.

“I fucking love it here. I’ve been hard ever since that chick in the boots showed up on the live feed.”

Kyle glanced at him.

“I remember you promising to give us a hand.”

Ben smirked. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He held up his copy of Mind, Body, and Willing Touch.

“Time to put this chapter into practice.”

Then he looked around at each of them in turn.

“All right. Time to get intimately acquainted. Show us your dicks.”

Hart blinked.

“Right now?”

Ben shrugged. “I’ve been reborn. And I’m pretty sure you’re all as hard as I am.”

Summers groaned inwardly.

The little fucker was not wrong.

Why the fuck was he playing along with this?

Ben clapped his hands.

“All right. Whip ’em out.”

On the count of three, they all pulled out their dicks.

Summers practically wept with relief. For one brief, glorious moment, he and his dick were finally aligned in purpose.

Then he noticed that every pair of eyes had locked onto him.

Or, more accurately, onto his dick.

Then his face.

Then his dick again.

Ben looked as though his entire world was recalibrating for the third time that day.

For several long seconds, the room fell completely silent.

If Summers’s dick had not been so fucking delighted by the attention, he might have put it away.

Finally, Hart blurted, “What else are you hiding from us?”

Summers was too busy trying to calm his dick down at the sight of cock to manage more than a dazed:

“What?”

Kyle began counting on his fingers.

“You didn’t tell us your name was Ashley.”

Hart added, “Or that you’re a junior.”

“And now,” Kyle continued, gesturing emphatically, “we find out you have multiple piercings in your dick?”

Summers looked down at his large, engorged cock, decorated with six separate piercings.

Then he crossed his arms defensively.

“It’s not a big deal.”

Ben finally seemed to come back online.

“Not a big deal?”

He gestured wildly towards Summers’s dick.

“It’s a huge deal. I have so many more questions.”

“Same,” Hart said.

“Me too,” Kyle added.

Summers sighed.

Fine. He was trapped inside some surreal fever dream with his dick out in front of his three equally naked, equally hard disasters. He might as well give them something.

“Fine. I went through a phase after a bad breakup, okay?”

Hart looked from Summers’s face to his dick and back again.

“Must’ve been some breakup.”

Summers scowled.

“Yeah. He ghosted me to go back to his ex-wife.”

Dead silence.

Every pair of eyes snapped back to him.

“What?” Summers demanded defensively.

The boys exchanged stunned looks.

Ben gaped.

“You aren’t straight?”

Summers frowned. “I'm bisexual. So?”

Ben blinked, then reached over and clapped him on the shoulder.

“That’s cool, man. Thanks for sharing.”

Summers rolled his eyes but nodded, unable to entirely suppress his gratitude.

Hart looked around at all of them.

“Wow. This really is group bonding.”

Kyle nodded solemnly.

“We’re all closer already.”

He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, his grin practically manic.

Ben glanced between them.

“Fuck. We’ve trauma-bonded so hard that I think I’m in love with all of you.”

Summers sighed and began putting his dick away.

The others moved immediately to stop him.

Hart laughed, and the sound did deeply inconvenient things to Summers’s body.

“Oh, no,” Hart said. “You’re one of us now. No escape.”

Kyle grinned, fervour blazing in his eyes.

“Those who are blood-pacted together stay together.”

Summers groaned.

“Fuck. You lot are insufferable.”

Ben beamed.

“Love you too.”

Summers rolled his eyes again.

Then someone knocked on the door.

All four froze and turned towards it.

A second later, they were scrambling to hurriedly stuff themselves back into their pants.

They all exchanged a glance.

Was this it?

Were they really about to be freed?

Suddenly, Summers was fucking terrified of what that meant.

Fuck. He was hiding the keys to the gun safe until he was certain these boys were not going to implode the moment the blood pacts came off.

There was no escape for him now, even if he wanted one.

The boys needed him more than ever.

That was evident in the way all three subtly positioned themselves behind him as the door opened.

Then they were confronted by one of the most beautiful beings any of them had ever seen.

Until they smiled.

Too many sharp teeth.

Everyone froze.