Falling for Them Volume 3: Reverse Harem Collection

by Amy Sumida

  “You just want an opportunity to be alone with her.”

  Was that a pout on Seth’s handsome face? Ronan raised an eyebrow at Seth, “Maybe I do. Is that a problem?”

  “Not with me. Your cat is the most mellow out of the lot of us. You’re the most likely to make it through a conversation without jumping her bones,” Seth shrugged, morphing back to the easy-going man he was the majority of the time.

  “Fine with me too. Besides, I have unfinished business with the kitten here.”

  Ronan watched as Vaughn allowed a real growl to rumble in his chest as he pursued Seth, unbuttoning his jeans and backing the man into a corner. Seth’s eyes sparked with defiance once more, but this time it was playful as he made a pathetically fake attempt to dodge a stalking Vaughn.

  Ronan smirked, locking the door behind him as he left his two lovers grappling for dominance in Ivory’s lounge room. Going by the lengthening of Vaughn’s canines as he stalked Seth across the room, Ronan was betting on him winning this round.

  Once outside, he raised his face to the sky, scenting the air in an attempt to determine the direction Ivory had fled. He could use the magical connection just as easily – familiars had built in radars where their witches were concerned. It helped them in their service and duties. But his panther demanded the more intimate mate-bond in order to track their wayward mate. The lingering scent of rain, grass, and vanilla mixed with heat was a heady combination and he took off in a steady jog, following the smell towards the woods that surrounded the edge of the bar’s carpark.

  Ivory must have been moving at a reasonable pace, for he soon found himself immersed in the dense trees and bushland of the wooded reserve. He frowned, picking up his pace a little, concerned about Ivory being alone in such a remote area. The woman was being stalked after all. The reminder sent a chill down his spine and had his panther rising possessively to the surface. The beast wanted to hunt the female down, pin her beneath him and mark her so others knew she was taken. It also wanted its female to acknowledge who was in charge. Ronan was going to have to have words with his inner animal because he had no doubt Ivory was going to be well and truly in charge of all of them. He shook himself, lecturing his animal briefly about control. The last thing he wanted to do was scare the flighty woman further. He highly doubted that seeing him turn into a seven foot long, ninety-kilogram black jungle cat would fill her with confidence when she had expressed her disdain over the whole mate thing.

  The track he was on was quite well-worn, suggesting it was used fairly regularly. In fact, the walking track and the surrounding vegetation were practically saturated with Ivory’s scent and he realised this must be the route she took for her runs – both human and animal. He knew how crazy he got when he didn’t allow his panther out to run and hunt. No doubt, Ivory’s was the same and it now made sense why she had chosen to put down roots in this area. The wooded forest appealed to his cat on a primal level. It was dark and dense, the smells strong and earthy. And he could hear numerous small prey animals scurrying around.

  The human half of him that was her bodyguard found himself even more annoyed and bothered – routines were a stalker’s wet dream. Plus, when they had asked her about her habits, she hadn’t mentioned frequenting these woods at all. They couldn’t protect her properly if she kept leaving things out. It didn’t matter that she had no doubt failed to disclose her frequent forest jaunts because she could shapeshift into a big white cat. But now that everything was out in the open, they were going to talk all this shit through; no more running, no more hiding. For any of them.

  Seeing movement up ahead, he breathed out in relief. Ivory was sitting on a fallen log, her leg bouncing in clear agitation, “Ivory! You promised us you wouldn’t leave the bar. It isn’t safe,” he did his best to use his stern voice when all he wanted was to drag her to him and hold her tight.

  “I know, I’m sorry. And I know I keep saying that too. I do mean it every time. I just …” She waved her hands around her head, “Libby says I think too much. She says I should just focus on being a little hussy and let sleeping cats lie,” she snorted indelicately, “Sleeping cats!” she repeated, before giggling a little sloppily.

  He leaned in closer, catching a whiff of a suspiciously familiar scent. “Wait …” he sniffed at her lips, “… are you drunk?”

  She straightened her shoulders, trying – and failing – to look pious, “Not all the way.”

  “Bloody hell, woman! It’s not even midday,” he exclaimed.

  “And? What’s your point? Why do people always say that? Your taste buds don’t care what time it is. They don’t have a schedule, you know. It’s like only eating cereal at breakfast time. Why is that? Who says it’s a morning food? What if I want to eat cereal for dinner? I should be allowed to without justifying myself. Just like I should be allowed to gauge the gooseberry content of my wine when I want to.”

  Ivory prattled on somewhat incoherently and he found himself quite enamoured by her tipsy ramblings coupled with the defence of her logic. She was rather adorable. Deciding sometimes actions were far wiser than words, he grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her up. Seizing her lips with his own, he nearly whimpered as her sweet flavour burst over his taste buds. He discovered there was indeed a hint of gooseberry adding a delicious spice to the kiss. She opened her mouth willingly, thrusting her tongue seductively against his own. Groaning, he fumbled with the hem of her shirt, pushing it quickly up and out of the way so he could access the surprisingly lush breasts he had discovered the night before. Ivory moaned into his mouth, arching her body into his. He felt her nipple pebble against his palm and he allowed his thumb to brush teasingly over the hard peak.

  “Wait … no … stop,” Ivory’s hands were suddenly pushing him away instead of pulling him close.

  He raised his head immediately but shook his head, “Don’t tell me to stop,” he didn’t know how much longer he could be patient with her continued hot and cold treatment.

  “But this is wrong,” her breathless voice whispered over his flesh like a caress.

  His hand was still cupping the weight of one generous breast and he allowed his fingers to give the warm mound a gentle squeeze, “It’s the rightest thing in the whole world,” he assured her, “Does it feel wrong?”

  She shook her head but didn’t answer him. He tried not to let his frustration show in his voice as he pressed on; “After you had your chat with Vaughn, you said you were willing to give this a chance. Give us a chance. And these last few days – getting to know you, being in your space with your scent and your warmth – it’s been heaven. You’ve enjoyed it too, I know you have.” And he did. He’d lost count of the number of times he would catch her eyeing one of them when she thought no-one was looking.

  She was a strong woman, full of fire and life. She was independent, smart and decisive in everything she did. He couldn’t understand where her reticence was coming from, especially after the earth-shattering experience of last night, “And what about last night, hmm? You shared your body with us, and ours with yours. It was something special.”

  “I know. I know that Ronan. And I’m not trying to be a silly little girl about everything. It’s just … I need to know you all feel the same way I do. Is it just obligation? For one thing, you are my bodyguards.”

  He was quick to respond; “We would never allow our personal feelings to interfere with our job. Keeping you safe is our top priority. This isn’t just a proximity thing or a damsel in distress thing. If that was the case, there were countless times we would have slept with our clients – both males and females. It’s not a protector- complex.”

  She searched his eyes for a moment before finally nodding, “Okay – not a ‘save the little woman complex’. But what about the mate thing? Is it just scratching a primal itch?”

  She was insecure. So very insecure. How could he and the others not have seen that before? He placed his palms on either side of her face, forcing her eyes to his; “Ivory, a bu
nch of pheromones can’t manufacture emotions. I have feelings for you, as do Seth and Vaughn. Hell, you’re all we ever talk about when we’re alone now; did you know Ivory does this, did you see Ivory do that, did you hear Ivory say this? Honestly, it’s a little pathetic,” he smiled a little impishly at her, “Everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve heard about you – I like it all. I just plain like you, Ivory. And I know the others feel the same way. We all fell for you well before we knew you were a witch and a potential mate.”

  She reached up and covered his hands with her own, looking deeply into his eyes, “Okay.”

  “Okay?” he repeated. What did that mean?

  She nodded, “Okay. I believe you. I believe in you,” she took a deep breath and stepped back, “So let’s figure out who the hell has been doing these things to me so we can focus on what the hell we’re going to do about us.”

  He remained silent as they walked back to her home hand in hand, cautioning himself about priorities. The situation with the stalker was getting out of hand. Whoever it was had well and truly snapped and he had no doubt that their infatuation with Ivory wasn’t going to be enough for them now. Capturing her and forcing her acknowledgment of their connection wasn’t going to satisfy him as it once would have. Now, only Ivory’s death would bring him satisfaction. But he didn’t say that out loud, nor did he tell her what they were going to do about her, even though he already knew.

  They were going to keep her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After picking up Ivory’s business mail at the post office, Seth decided to take the scenic route through the woodlands that skirted the whole town and edged Ivory’s property. He had already opened all the mail, finding only bills and catalogues. Nothing from new their mystery man. There had been no more contact since the lewd photos and removal of the cameras but Ivory had taken a few days off work anyway. She had been more shaken than she had let on – and so had he. The thought of some sick fuck invading her privacy that way and making her feel unsafe and uncomfortable in her own home made him wish he could hunt the fucker down and gut him with his dew claw.

  Ivory had been a little more subdued at first when she and Ronan had walked back in the morning of the big revelations. She had been somewhat fidgety and uncomfortable – shy almost. It didn’t help that she was a little drunk either. But at least she hadn’t pulled away from them. The four of them had spent the last three days talking so much that even he had a sore throat. They had discussed all things witch and familiar, answering Ivory’s relentless questions and asking their own. Not that he could blame her. Her mother had done the best she could, given her own parents had died when she was so young. But her knowledge base was severely limited. Not that Ivory’s magical abilities appeared to be diminished by her ignorance and lack of a mentor. The woman was wicked strong.

  She seemed to be taking the whole familiar thing in stride, thankfully. Not that he was all that surprised. The connection between a witch and their familiar was organic, as natural as breathing. So she wasn’t finding it too difficult to adjust to having them around and knowing them in that capacity. The mate thing on the other hand? Well, that was a different story. She still had reservations about their panthers wanting to claim her as their life-mate. She claimed she could accept the insane attraction they all had to each other as a chemical reaction, but that it wasn’t enough for her. She wanted them to get to know the real her more before anything further happened.

  He was trying very hard not to get frustrated with her. He knew he didn’t just want her because his cat’s pheromones demanded it. The night spent in her arms had been one of the best of his life. And the fact that he had been able to share it with the men he loved had made it even more special. But he wasn’t falling for what she could offer them between the sheets. He was falling for the stubborn, feisty, generous, funny, brave woman. He could only hope she was falling for them in the same way. And given she had promptly called for a moratorium on all things sex, they’d had nothing but time to connect on a more mental and emotional level, anyway.

  The look of devastation on Vaughn’s face when Ivory had primly told them they would not be sharing her magnificent round bed with her had been almost comical. But after three days of being in Ivory’s presence with her natural white hair, exotic purple eyes, and inhaling her scent, really killed his amusement. He was walking around with a constant hard-on and he was afraid his balls would be a permanent blue colour. To make matters worse, he wasn’t even getting any relief from his men. They had stupidly decided that they would all wait for Ivory to feel comfortable before being together again. It had been Ronan’s idea – the annoyingly mature bastard – and had seemed like the noble thing to do at the time. But now … now he wasn’t feeling so noble.

  A loud ding from his phone was a welcome distraction from the state of his neglected dick and he fished it out of his pocket. That ding was the notification sound for his emails. He had gotten in contact with a fellow familiar and friend who worked for one of the founding covens. Spencer had access to all information of historical significance and Seth had asked him to discreetly investigate Dale and Maree. Had there been any mention of them being more than casual lovers in the history books? Any suspicion that Dale had faked his own death? Had there been any indication that the conclave knew Maree was pregnant and had indeed threatened them? And most importantly, was there any mention of Ivory anywhere?

  When Ronan had suggested they make some gentle enquiries, Ivory had freaked out on them again. Her aversion to the conclave was deeply ingrained and they had almost caved and abided by her wishes to make no attempt to investigate. After all, as familiars they were bound to do what their witch wanted in all things. But Seth had persevered, assuring her he would be discreet and only contact someone he trusted. His gut was telling him there was something going on – some kind of connection. And he always trusted his gut. It had led him to Ronan and Vaughn, and now Ivory. As far as he was concerned, that was a pretty good track record.

  The feeling had been cemented when Ivory had admitted she’d felt like she was being followed five years ago and that’s why she had decided to move on and build a new life for herself here in Hadleigh. Seth could have shaken her when he heard that. Why hadn’t she mentioned it before? Oh, he knew she believed then and now were two unrelated things – that her stalker was just some random, infatuated, crazy arsehole. And that was most likely the case, especially when she tried to appease him by saying the watcher from her past hadn’t felt malicious. It had just been enough to make her feel uncomfortable and that she had been discovered and it was time to move on and make a new face. But Seth’s gut wasn’t convinced.

  He tapped his little inbox icon and read the contents of the email from Spencer. His gut clenched unhappily now – sometimes he hated being right. There was evidence that a witch marshal had been sent out five years ago to Arland – the city Ivory had been living in – to investigate rumours of a rogue witch. The marshals were witches who acted like the police of their society. They made sure their laws were upheld, criminals were incarcerated, and that witch hunters were dealt with swiftly. They were also responsible for making sure no rogue witches were roaming unchecked in the world and putting their hidden society in danger.

  The marshal who had been in charge of investigating whether or not there was a real witch in Arland, had reported no evidence of one. His official report to the conclave had stated Ivory was a mere wiccan with no magical powers at all. The conclave had clearly taken him at his word because there had been no further investigations into a rogue witch in five years. But six months ago, the conclave had enlisted the exact same marshal to look into the small town of Hadleigh. A witch passing through the town had spotted an authentic cauldron in a pub coincidentally called the Hex Bar and had reported it. As Vaughn would say; coincidences were fucking suspicious. But what confirmed it for Seth was Spencer’s last sentence;

  ‘No evidence of a witch – rogue or otherwise – in the township
of Hadleigh.’

  The exact same marshal had falsified the report once again. There was definitely a witch in Hadleigh. He was speed dialing Ronan when a twig snapping behind him had him spinning around and reaching for the gun in the waistband of his pants. But before he could even close his hand over the butt of the gun, a crushing blow to his head had him landing on all fours and literally seeing stars. A second whack, this time to his temple, had blackness clouding his vision in seconds.

  Dammit! I really hate being right all the time.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ivory paced in her living room. She felt edgy and unsettled and didn’t know why. She and the boys had been shut inside her apartment for the past three days as they put every resource towards finding her stalker. They had reached out to all their contacts – witch, familiar and human alike – to gather information. So far, they had come up with exactly zip. The cameras were indeed military grade but their origin and purchase couldn’t be placed. They had no luck tracing the stationary used – it was generic and could be bought from any supermarket in the country. There were no prints and the DNA left on the underwear she had received wasn’t in any database. What’s more, their panthers hadn’t been able to detect or follow any scent.

  With three days of seclusion, she hadn’t needed to use her glamour and her magic had been recuperating. She had been doing her own research into spells and she had finally convinced them to allow her to scry for the location of the stalker. It wouldn’t reveal his identity but she should be able to find his whereabouts. They were going to give it a try just as soon as Seth returned from the post office.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Ronan asked, engulfing her from behind in his strong arms.