Fangs for Sharing (Supernatural in Seattle #1)

by Bella Jacobs

  “Thanks so much.” I like her more with every passing minute. She reminds me of my aunt Connie, the only member of my family who refused to get sucked into the family or pageant drama.

  “This is Eliza,” Leo says, coming to stand at Gloria’s left, “Leerie’s roommate and the one in need of our protection.”

  Gloria nods, smile widening again. “Yes. Our rhino shifter. Fascinating.”

  “Less fascinating if you happen to be one,” I assure her with a laugh. “But I promise to do my very best not to shift in your office. Or in the apartment where we’ll be staying. I don’t want to cause any damage.”

  “The apartment?” Gloria flaps two “get out of here” hands my way. “No, doll face. No way are we letting you shack up in one of our dreary rentals. We’re putting you up in the castle. It’s all arranged. Sven is getting your rooms prepared, and Jamal will coordinate security and fetch you anything you might need during the daylight hours, when our night staff is underground. You’re going to be our guests of honor!”

  I start to protest that she really shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble—I’m just thrilled to be safe, even if it’s in a tugboat apartment docked on the wrong side of the bay—but Leerie subtly kicks my shoe with hers.

  “That’s very gracious of you, Master.” Leerie dips her head. “Thank you.”

  I drop into a similar curtsy-type pose. “Yes, thank you. So much. It’s super awesome of you.”

  “Super awesome,” Gloria echoes with a laugh. “I like that. And I like you, kid.” She brings two fingers beneath my chin, lifting my face to hers. “We’re going to be great friends. I can feel it.”

  “I’d love that,” I say, meaning it with my entire heart. I don’t have many friends—especially sassy, protective older lady friends.

  By the time we leave Gloria’s office half an hour later, after joining her for a celebratory drink—sour cherry cordial for Leerie and me; the other red stuff for Gloria and the boys—I’m feeling warm and cozy all over, hopeful for the first time since this mess started that everything might be okay.

  I don’t register the tension in Leerie’s expression or the odd silence of the men until we’re in the back of the stretch limo, headed toward the hills of the posh part of Seattle in the four a.m. stillness.

  “What is it?” I glance between the three of them, wondering what I missed. “I mean…she was nice, right? Everything is fine?”

  “Absolutely fine.” Leerie crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing. “If you’re up for marrying into one of the most violent shivers in the modern world.”

  “What?” I bleat with a laugh. “What are you talking about?”

  “Shall you tell her?” Leerie cocks her head at Leo and Rourke, who are seated on the leather seats facing ours, carefully avoiding eye contact with both Leerie and each other. “Or shall I?”

  “It’s not true,” Leo says softly. “We’re not violent. Not often. Anymore.”

  “But still, kind of true,” Rourke counters. “Gloria does like taking care of problems the old-fashioned, murdery way. Makes my shiver look like teddy bears in comparison. Teddy bears stuffed with razor blades, but still relatively harmless, as long as you don’t hug us too tight.”

  “What are you talking about?” My forehead wrinkles. “I mean, I’m used to being the dumb blonde in the room, but I—”

  “You’re not dumb,” Leo says. “You’re uneducated in the ways of our world. There’s a difference. Stop selling yourself short.”

  “Okay,” I say, holding his gaze, again not sure whether to be touched or irritated by his defense of me. “But I’m in the dark, either way.”

  “No. You’re in the light. You carry it with you,” Leo says, in such a matter-of-fact tone that it takes me a beat to realize he’s giving me a compliment. A really sweet compliment, in fact. One that has me so flustered that for a moment I can’t remember what we were talking about.

  Luckily Leerie is immune to vampire sex vibes.

  And gorgeous men. And compliments.

  “But these two live under a big black raincloud.” Leerie reaches for one of the crystal tumblers nestled in a holder on the left side of the limo and fills it with water from an equally fancy decanter. “They’re cursed. Have been for…what? Going on a hundred years?”

  “One hundred in November,” Leo says, studying my face with an intensity that’s unnerving.

  “What kind of curse?” I shift my gaze to Rourke, who is also watching me closely, though he does a better job of hiding it—pretending to be fascinated by a loose thread at the seam of his jeans while casting glances my way from the corners of his dragon-scale eyes.

  “Barren shall thy shivers be, until two princes are united in trinity. Founded in trust and bonded by blood, sealed with the kiss of an Incomparable’s love,” Leerie says. “Which in layman’s terms means they have to find a one-in-a-million girl to take loyalty vows with them, sealing the three of them in vampire marriage for all eternity. If they don’t, they’ll never be able to make new vampires. Beatrice, the witch who whipped up the curse, wanted them to either learn to play nice or be taken off the field completely.”

  Leerie takes a delicate sip of her drink. “Beatrice’s daughter, the last of the realm-crossing witches, was killed in a turf war between the then-leaders of the Strife and Famine shivers. The kings were both in love with her, and she cared for them, but they refused to share her or territory or anything else. She was caught in the crossfire in a particularly bloody battle and died. Afterward, her mother decided to teach the shivers a lesson. If they don’t form a triad with a woman as special as her daughter, they will never be fertile again, and will eventually be taken over by a larger shiver filled with ambitious baby vamps with sharper, pointier teeth.”

  “Bollocks. My teeth are still the sharpest and the pointiest,” Rourke says, before adding in a more serious tone. “And a takeover is still a long way off. The Strife and Famine shivers have ruled Seattle for centuries. Our masters do an excellent job of defending our territory.”

  “But she’s right,” Leo says. “Sooner or later, we’ll be challenged. And if we haven’t broken the curse by then…”

  He lets the words hang in the air, and my imagination races to fill in the blanks. “There’ll be a turf war,” I murmur. “One you could lose if you’re outnumbered.” Leo inclines his head, and I turn to Leerie. “So this is why they’ve been trying to get you to marry them? Because you’re one in a million?”

  “Not one in a million,” Rourke corrects. “Absolutely unique. Incomparable. Leerie is the last living earth fairy princess, the only one who can step in to rule Fairy when her mother takes to the ether.”

  “My mother is never taking to the ether,” Leerie says, with a roll of her eyes. “And yes, I am the last living earth fairy princess. But I’m also betrothed.”

  “To a creep you haven’t met,” I remind her. “Who is never going to hear you say ‘I do,’ because he’s the worst of the worst.”

  Tales of her betrothed—a flame fairy with a reputation for brutality on the battlefield and a habit of permanently disfiguring his lovers for his own amusement—are enough to make any sad single girl grateful to be alone.

  Leerie takes another sip of her water. “True. But that doesn’t mean I’m free to choose another husband. Or husbands. My mother and the other royals tolerate my spinsterhood—for now—but if I were to bind myself to anyone other than my hideous betrothed, heads would roll.” She lifts her glass to Leo and Rourke in turn. “Specifically your head. And yours.”

  “We aren’t afraid of fairy vengeance,” Leo says, though I can tell his heart isn’t in it, “which I believe we’ve mentioned several times.”

  Leerie’s lips quirk. “Yes, you have. But I don’t like to go around inciting a riot for no reason. Seeing as I don’t love either of you, and you don’t love me, a marriage between us would be far too passionless and boring to be worth spilling blood over.”

  “Not true.” Rourke nu
dges Leerie’s shoe with his boot. “I love you, Leers. You’ve always been a good friend.”

  “I don’t think friendly love is what’s needed to break the curse.” Leerie pats Rourke’s knee. “But thank you. You’re dear to me, too. But if you try to drag Eliza into this mess of yours, I will be forced to cut off your fangs with a meat cleaver.”

  Rourke winces. “You realize that’s nearly as bad as threatening to cut off my balls, right? I mean, a man can survive on bagged blood, but who in his right mind would want to?”

  “Indeed.” Leerie leans in, giving the water at the bottom of her glass an ominous swirl. “So think about that before you make any rash decisions.”

  “Gloria may not be my master, but the Strife shiver is alpha in Seattle, and her word is law,” Rourke says, holding Leerie’s gaze without blinking. “She decided you were our best bet, so we courted you. But if she’s decided there’s a better candidate…”

  “I’m not joking, Rourke.” Leerie’s tone is soft but razor sharp. “Leave Eliza alone. She’s been through enough.”

  “Eliza is also right here,” I remind her, poking a finger into her side, which fails to break either the tension or the stare off between her and Rourke. I turn to Leo with a sigh. “And Eliza is also still confused. There’s nothing incomparable about me. Not by any stretch of the imagination.”

  “You’re the world’s only rhinoceros shifter,” Leo says.

  “Right. Well, there is that.” I laugh, but Leo doesn’t crack a smile and Rourke keeps right on watching Leerie, like they’re gunfighters waiting to see who will draw first. “You can’t be serious.” I blink, but no one rushes in to assure me this is all a ridiculous joke. “But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m a science experiment. I wasn’t born this way. And I’m only the only rhino shifter because Eugene hasn’t gotten around to making any more of us yet.”

  “But until he does, you’re one of a kind, darlin’,” Rourke says.

  “But n-not for long,” I stammer, ignoring the heat creeping up my throat. “He’s going to change me back. As soon as he’s finished being a bitter, sulky little baby man. Could be any day now.”

  “Or it could be weeks, even months,” Leerie says. “Either way, I want a promise from both of you that you won’t mess with Eliza. Convince Gloria she’s a bad candidate. Tell her she’s messy and forgetful and always at least thirty minutes late for everything. Certainly not the kind of person who should be trusted with ancient vampire secrets or the ears of the vampire princes of Seattle.”

  “Hey!” I give her another fruitless poke. “Not cool. I’m not always late. And I remember things. As long as they aren’t birthdays or anniversaries or what we need from the grocery store.” I wrinkle my nose. “Or people’s names. Or how movies end. Or what I had for lunch.”

  “Or, if you have to, tell her you’re starting to get somewhere with me,” Leerie says, ignoring me. “I can pretend to be infatuated with you boys for a month or two—however long it takes to convince Eugene to do the right thing by Eliza.”

  Leo nods. “I’ll do what I can to get Eliza off Gloria’s radar. This isn’t a world for someone like her.”

  “Fine,” I huff. “If everyone’s deciding my future for me, I’ll just shut up.” I lean back in my seat, lips pressed tightly together, prepared to glare daggers out the window for the rest of the trip. But when I look out, I spot a massive, turreted building at the top of the next hill, illuminated by soft blue lanterns and silhouetted against a sky filled with stars.

  It’s beautiful. Massive. Gorgeous and majestic and so bleeping cool.

  And it’s going to be my home for at least the next few days.

  In spite of my psycho ex-boyfriend and rhino problems and the evil extremists who want to kill me, I can’t help but feel a little like Cinderella. Except I won’t have to head home at midnight.

  I’ll get to stay at the castle, with two princes.

  Princes who are only interested in me because I’m a freak and their boss told them to be interested, but still…

  Is it wrong that I’m a little excited?

  We pass through a serious-looking metal gate topped by spikes as long as my arm and guarded by scary-looking men and women, and then stopped twice more for routine safety checks before reaching the top of the hill. Finally, the limo pulls into a circular drive with a marble fountain at its center. We’re greeted by half a dozen servants dressed in formal, black-and-white uniforms that would be at home in a costume drama, and a tall, blond man in an impeccably cut suit steps forward to open our door with a flourish and a bow.

  “Welcome, your majesties,” he says as Leo and Rourke emerge from the vehicle, before adding, “and guests,” in a slightly cooler tone that makes me think he’s not thrilled to have unexpected company.

  “Thank you, Sven,” Leo says. “Is the west wing ready?”

  “Yes, majesty,” Sven says, appraising me with a disdain that makes my skin itch from the inside. “The Lavender and Pennyroyal suites are both prepared.”

  “Thank you so much for having us.” I offer Sven my most dazzling, pageant princess smile as I scoot across the seat and step out of the limo behind Leerie. “We promise not to be any trouble. You won’t even know we’re here.”

  “Doubtful, madam.” Sven’s gaze does a quick sweep up and down my frame as his lip curls ever-so-slightly. “The smell alone… What kind of shifter did they say you were again? An elephant?” He spins on his heel, vanishing so quickly I don’t have time to pick my jaw up off the floor, let alone think of a comeback.

  But what would I say? Maybe I do stink like the rhino paddock at the zoo. I can’t smell myself, and Leerie is way too nice to tell me that I reek when there’s nothing I can do about it.

  I glance ahead, scrambling to come up with a one-liner to turn the snub into a joke, but Leerie, Leo, and Rourke are mounting the impressive steps to the even more impressive front door and clearly didn’t hear Sven’s stink-burn.

  “Chin up, Cinderella,” I mutter, hurrying to catch up.

  Ready or not, it’s time to see what surprises a vampire castle has in store.

  Chapter 6

  Stories have power.

  We’re born and bred on stories, tales we’ve strung together in an attempt to make sense of this crazy business we call life. Sometimes our stories are good magic, helping us rise above adversity and overcome seemingly impossible odds.

  But sometimes our stories are the fucking pits.

  All the way through the great hall and the tour of the first floor—kitchen, dining room, living room, den, and two separate libraries—I’m trapped in my least favorite story, the one I thought I’d put behind me years ago.

  But apparently it wasn’t dead, just hibernating, resting up in a dark corner of my mind, waiting for a sneering vampire butler to bring it roaring back to life.

  In this story, I am an unlovable “too much” child. Too heavy, too sweaty, too loud, too clumsy—all the toos that led to my mother sending me to fat camp the summer before fifth grade and my metamorphosis into a slimmer, quieter, less sweaty version of Eliza that was deserving of my movie-star-beautiful mother’s love.

  Or at least, more deserving.

  Deep down, I knew that the obnoxious, unlovable Eliza was still inside there somewhere, no matter how hard I tried to diet and exercise and discipline her out of existence.

  Until I was eighteen years old, I believed I was only worthy of love if I worked my ass off for it. If I changed myself for it.

  If I betrayed myself for it.

  And then, one day, while at the beach for my senior trip, I almost died saving my friend Lance from a riptide. We were dragged under so many times I never expected to see shore again. I’d only eaten two tiny cucumber sandwiches for lunch—all my insane pre-pageant day diet allowed—and I didn’t have the energy to swim hard enough to win a fight against the ocean. Only whole people stand a chance against the merciless pull of the tide, and I wasn’t whole. I was a shadow, a mirage
. A reflection that was as much my mother as it was myself.

  I thought we were goners, but somehow, we made it back from our beach date with death. The moment I collapsed onto the sand beside Lance, I knew that was it. I was done with that old, sad, heartbreaking, soul-crushing story. I was weaving a new web, one big and sticky enough to hold all the pieces of the real Eliza.

  But as Leo opens the doors to a stunning ballroom decorated with antique rose-gold chandeliers, all I can think about is my rhino stink.

  And how ashamed I am of it.

  And how unlovable I am because of it.

  And how I wish I were anywhere in the world other than trailing behind two of the most beautiful men in the world and my supermodel-lovely roommate.

  “Is that all right with you, Eliza?” Leerie pauses at the double doors on the opposite side of the opulent space and looks back at me expectantly.

  I blink faster, emerging from the shame-haze. “I’m sorry, what was that? I spaced for a second. It’s been a long night.”

  “If you’re ready to turn in, I can show you straight to your room instead,” Leo says. “What I wanted to show you can wait.”

  I shake my head. “No, I’d love to see more of the house,” I say, even though all I want to do is run and hide in the bathroom and take half a dozen showers. But it’s rude to refuse your host, especially when he’s also a friend and has recently saved your stinky rhino skin from certain doom.

  “I’ll show Leerie to her room,” Rourke says, giving my elbow a gentle squeeze. “See you tomorrow, Princess Pea. Keep your chin up. The world will look brighter after some rest.”

  His kindness is almost enough to interrupt my shame spiral, but not quite. That’s the thing about the inadequacy roller coaster—once you board the ride, it’s almost impossible to get off, like trying to climb up a slide covered in Vaseline.