Laraque-Redakai (A Four Brothers Vampire Series)

Note: Currently undergoing revisions as of 03/07/2026. Please check back the first part of May for the best reading experience.

This story contains multiple lifetimes (reincarnation)

New Orleans

…Present Day…

2021

The cursor blinked on the screen as my fingers hovered above the keys, trembling slightly. These were not mere words I would be typing; they were memories, alive, writhing, demanding to be told.

I leaned back, the chair creaking beneath me. My mind clawed at me, pulling me into places I’d fought to remember. Redakai Laraque’s eyes, cold yet magnetic, haunted the edges of my thoughts. Why did they have this hold over me?

Because they always have, my inner voice whispered.

I exhaled shakily as I began typing the story of my life…past and present.

My name is Kaisha Savoie, and every thousand years, I have awoken in a new body, as well with four shadows that follow me, always: the Laraque brothers: Redakai, Syrus, Drayton, and Corton. I hate them. Fear them. And yet… my soul seems to always recognize them, especially…Redakai.

It all began innocently enough with a dream....

The keys blurred, more memories clawing their way into the present, memories that were refusing to remain dormant. With tired eyes, yet restless fingers as the person I had been long ago pushed her way into this lifetime, I once again began to type.

⤄⤄ ※ ⤄⤄

NEW ORLEANS

1821

“Quite the beauty, aren’t you?” The auctioneer’s voice rasped through the cold air, laced with greed. My shackles bit into my skin, but I straightened my spine; fear was a luxury I could not afford.

Javaleen, my stepmother, stood beside me, a perfect statue, still and unreadable. But her sharp green eyes flicked over the crowd, seeking pity in vain. There was none. Only hunger. Only gold. Only the scent of human greed.

As I peered out into the crowd, a voice, deep and commanding, rumbled from the shadows: “This one. Let’s see what she can do.”

At the request, a guard shoved me forward. I stumbled, wood creaking beneath my feet. Candlelight flickered, casting monstrous shadows that danced along the walls. I breathed, willing my panic down. Survive. Just survive.

The auctioneer’s grin split his face. “Rumor says she’s… special.”

I caught Javaleen’s gaze. Do not falter. Focus. Slowly, I lifted my hand. A tiny flame appeared at my fingertip, feeding on the electricity in my veins, growing until the crowd gasped.

And then… his eyes.

Silver. Cold. Unrelenting. He watched from the back of the room, unmoving, like a predator assessing prey…or a man measuring inevitability. My pulse betrayed me. Was it fear? Fascination? Both?

“How much for the pair?” His voice cut through the murmurs, smooth and powerful, and the weight in the room shifted.

The auctioneer’s hand rubbed his chin. “A collector, then. Let the bidding begin.”

Coins clinked. Numbers rose. Greed swelled. Yet he never blinked, never moved. He was still, and my heartbeat thundered louder than all else. My body remembered him before my mind did, trembling in a way I despised.

Then, the gavel. The sound cracked the air. “Sold to the gentleman in the back…Redakai Laraque!”

Each step of his boots toward me resonated like a drumbeat counting down my life. His gloved hand extended. I hesitated, just for a heartbeat, then placed mine in it.

His grip was firm. Commanding. Not cruel, yet it sent awareness coursing through me. I should have recoiled. I should have resisted. But I did not. Not entirely.

Why am I drawn to him? Why does my pulse betray me?

As he led us from the auction house, the shadows of the night seemed to cling to him, bowing to his presence. My reflection in the puddles of water on the cobblestones whispered truths I hated; he was more than human. More than danger. He was a force. A predator. A man I could neither resist nor survive without fearing.

The gates of his manor groaned open before us, and I realized, with a surge of terror and unwanted anticipation, that I was stepping not into a home… but into the heart of his world. One step closer, and there was no turning back.

Every step beside him felt borrowed, as though my own body had surrendered its rhythm. I told myself I would resist, I would break free…but my pulse betrayed me, keeping pace with his silent command.

The manor swallowed me whole. Stone corridors stretched impossibly high, shadows pooling like liquid. Candle flames flickered and bent away from him, as if afraid to touch the air he moved through.

Do not falter. Do not let him see you notice, my inner voice reminded me.

Portraits lined the walls. Faces of men and women caught mid-glance, painted sharp, eyes too knowing. I slowed my pace, feeling their scrutiny crawl across my back. How many lives has this house consumed?

Redakai moved with inhuman grace. Each stride, precise, controlled, deliberate. My skin prickled, nerves straining as if the air itself bore his will. The pulse in my chest answered him before my mind could intervene.

The corridor narrowed, heavy curtains draped across the windows. No moonlight slipped through, only the faint smell of cedar, ash, and something metallic; a memory of blood long settled into the bones of this place.

Keep moving.

At last, we stopped before a pair of double doors, carved like twisting veins of wood. His gloved hand lingered, before the doors swung open effortlessly.

The room beyond was vast, dark, and intimidating. Velvet and oak gleamed in the firelight, yet the blaze offered no warmth. A clock ticked heavily, a heartbeat syncing with my own.

“Here,” he said, voice low, controlled. The weight behind it pressed into my chest. Finally, he released my hand. My skin tingled where it had brushed his glove. Freedom, fragile and fleeting.

The fire popped, sparks leaping like tiny embers of warning. And he stood there, a storm barely restrained, silver eyes reflecting the flames. I should have looked away, but I could not. My pulse raced with fear, fascination, and something deeper I dared not name.