Her Wolves: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Candace Wondrak

  Although, the number of rooms in this place didn’t stifle Fletcher’s creativity. He always found a way to put them to use somehow…usually with his females. Somewhere in this house, Ivy was locked away in a gilded cage, all alone, probably scared half to death. It’d been years since he’d seen her, and he prayed his baby sister was all right. Fletcher had said he never let anyone touch her, but could he really trust the man’s word?

  Now wasn’t the time to worry about it. He’d already crossed so many lines in the pursuit of getting Ivy back.

  They found Fletcher in one of the drawing rooms on the first floor, wearing nothing but a robe cinched to his waist, revealing all the scars on his chest, beneath the dark hair. A middle-aged wolf, not exactly an alpha, but one who commanded respect. A lone wolf. A man who was able to stand on his own. He needed no guards to stand nearby; he could tear anyone in half just as easily.

  Brice and Everett included, unfortunately.

  A naked woman lay before him on a lounge, one leg off the cushioned seat and the other bent at the knee. Her arms were above her head, and she stared at Fletcher as he painted her on his easel. She was maybe thirty, pale and curvy, tall and lean. Pretty in the way most shifters were, though there was nothing remarkable about her, other than her female-ness. His, by the smell of her.

  From what Brice knew, most of the ones who were brought here unclaimed became his eventually. It was…not something he liked to think about. Just like he didn’t want to think about the fact she wasn’t chained up or locked away; it only meant Fletcher either knew she wouldn’t run, or knew she wouldn’t make it far if she did. And she knew it too, given the emptiness of her eyes.

  Fletcher didn’t move his gaze off his easel when Brice and his brother entered, though the naked woman on the lounge did flick her eyes at them. No, not them—at Violet. The little human, emphasis on little, who was in way over her head. The little human who Everett watched a bit too closely.

  “What in the ever-loving fuck is that?” Fletcher spoke slowly, drawing out every word as his paintbrush danced across the canvas before him. “I know she isn’t a shifter, so why is she here?”

  Brice opened his mouth to explain, but what could he say? He’d made a huge error when they went to pick up Maia? The truth would likely get them—or Ivy—whipped for disobedience. Stupid, considering Fletcher wasn’t even their alpha. Not a part of their pack. Brice and Everett didn’t have a pack to be a part of anymore.

  It would seem the only one in the room not at a loss for words was Violet, who—against Brice’s earlier warnings—started to run her mouth, “I’m Violet, a human who is very fed up with your shifter shit. Who the ever-loving fuck are you, and why do you look like you stepped out of an Old Spice commercial?”

  And Old Spice…what? Brice had no idea what she was talking about, and he was too shocked at her impudence to stop her from saying more. Everett, on the other hand, only grinned as she spoke, as if he saw no one else in the room but Violet.

  “Seriously. You look like my grandpa in his heyday. Where’s the box of illegal Cuban cigars? The wads of money you throw into the air and dance under?” Violet huffed, looking the opposite of tough in her bundled-up shell, covered in rope and duct tape. “Tell me you have a hidden underground pool somewhere.” She made a big show of looking around, her eyes landing on the naked woman. “Is she for me?”

  What in the hell did she mean by that? Brice and Everett met eyes.

  “Kidding of course, because unlike you, I don’t make people screw anyone else. They only get to fuck me if they want to, and if I want them to,” Violet carried on. “Say, Fletch, you got any grapes around here?”

  Brice would never have hit a female before, but this human was acting very out of turn. Her incessant rambling would only enrage Fletcher, only make him draw notice to her more. Did Violet not know what flying under the radar meant? She could’ve made this easier for herself, but no. Apparently the human didn’t like the easy path.

  Finally, Fletcher set down his paintbrush, turning to study Violet in a new light. The expression he wore was…amusement? “How charming. Untie her. I wish to see her without all that ugly rope.”

  Brice was seconds from doing it, but Everett beat him to the punch, quickly moving between Fletcher and Violet. His younger brother gave her a weird look before starting the process of undoing the knots holding the rope around her. Then came the tape.

  What in the world was his brother doing? Why did he look at her like that? Everett was not the kind of person who’d fall for any female who walked past, shifter or not.

  In the end, it would not matter, because Violet now belonged to Fletcher, and maybe if she kept amusing him, he would give Brice and Everett more time to fetch Maia, to pay off the last bit they had to before they were able to get Ivy back.

  Hopefully no one would be punished. The whips rarely came out when Fletcher was amused or happy.

  “My Prince Charming,” Violet muttered, shooting Everett a glare as he stepped away from her, holding all the rope and used-up tape, to which his gaze fell to the floor. As if he felt bad. Brice knew he did, but now was not the time to reveal such feelings, especially when Fletcher was in the room.

  Brice and Everett took a step away from Violet when Fletcher started to circle her. “You are a strange human. You know of our existence?”

  “I work with some shifters back home,” Violet said, the attitude dripping from her voice. Once again, Brice wanted to yell at her, but it was not his place to make her behave, and she would only reap the consequences. Humans these days had no sense of true pain. Mental pain, sure, but physical? There was nothing to describe what it felt like when a cat o’nine tails bore into skin over and over.

  Fletcher leaned in toward her, and she visibly recoiled as he sniffed her neck. “You do smell vaguely of wolf. The clothes, I’m assuming?”

  Through the disgust pulling on her features, Violet managed to say, “Yeah. These dolts thought I was your mark. Or whatever the hell you call them. So illegal, by the way, what you’re doing. This is the twenty-first century. Women aren’t sex slaves—”

  “If I want your opinion—” The back of a hand met with her cheek, stunning her into silence. It wasn’t strong enough to knock her off her feet, but it was enough to make her stumble and sway to the side, enough for her cheek to instantly turn a bright and angry red. “—I’ll ask for it.”

  Everything next happened fast.

  Everett let out a low growl, which then caused Fletcher to turn his wrath onto the youngest brother, his eyes flashing a metallic brown. Everett was too smitten with the human to realize the mistake he’d made. Even the woman on the couch had sat up, her eyes wide as they flicked between the offending wolf, the human, and her mate.

  “Was that a fucking growl?” Fletcher asked, baring half-turned teeth to him. “Did you just display aggression towards me, all for the human? Iris, get me my switch.”

  Everett had stopped growling, but it was far too late to take it back. Brice only looked at his brother, wordlessly asking why he had to go and mess up like that. Fletcher was not the type of wolf to take any form of aggression lightly. For his slip up, Everett would pay.

  As Iris left the room, grabbing the silky robe on the floor near the lounge, Fletcher went on, “I know you aren’t mine, but until you pay your debt to me, you’re as good as mine, just like that sister of yours. Remember that. When you feel the first bite of the switch, remember I could be lashing her back in punishment instead of yours.”

  The threat hung heavily in the air, and Brice winced, for he could not picture Ivy being hurt in such a way. The scars his whip left were…ghastly and garish, hideous and deforming. They were not scars he would wish upon anyone, except Fletcher. But judging by the man’s scarred body, he’d been lashed before, too.

  “Violet,” Fletcher spoke once Iris returned to the room, clutching a short whip with nine separate leather switches. “Have a seat with Iris.”

  Violet looke
d like she wanted to say something, her green eyes defiant, but Iris grabbed her hand and led her to the lounge before she had the chance, hushing her silently. The women here knew to stick together; they lasted longer that way. Violet’s cheek was still red

  Why the hell did Everett have to go and growl?

  “This should be a lesson to all of you,” Fletcher went on, running his hands over the cat o’nine tails. “I was going to give you one more chance to get the female, but now I think, after this, I’m going to extend your sentence. Or maybe I should bring out your sweet, lovely sister at our next party?”

  The parties were when those with money came. The parties were…not like real parties at all. Brice wanted to say something, but he knew if he did, he would just get lashed too. Plus, they were not alone anymore. Two of the guards had wandered in from outside, having heard the commotion. They stood with their hands folded before them near the door to the drawing room, waiting.

  Everett knew he messed up. Brice could see it in his face. He didn’t want to see his younger brother hurt in this way—he’d done his best to keep him from such punishment for the last few years—but now it was too late.

  A growl. All for the human.

  Why?

  Giving Fletcher his back, Everett got on his knees.

  Fletcher gave them a sick, twisted smile as he said, “Good pup.” He raised the hand holding the whip, and before he brought it down, Brice had to look away, because while Everett had never met the whip before, he had.

  His younger brother did not scream when the nine-tailed whip came down on his back, but he did wince. He did let out a whimper here and there. He would’ve been fine, had Fletcher only had one lash in mind. But Fletcher was Fletcher, so Everett would get at least two dozen. Maybe more. This wasn’t just punishment for Everett’s growl; it was also Brice’s punishment for bringing him the wrong female. It was Violet’s warning and a reaffirmation of the things Iris already knew.

  Everything was for Ivy.

  It had to be worth it.

  Chapter Seven - Violet

  Alright, maybe she was a coward. Maybe, until then, Violet didn’t really know what kind of mess the two brothers had dragged her into, didn’t know how much of a goddamn madman Fletcher really was.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised, because someone who could treat women like shit could definitely treat everyone else like shit, too. Cruelty was universal, not only a human trait. Shifters had it in spades too.

  Violet almost had to tear her eyes away. She wasn’t sure why Everett had growled, if it was because Fletcher had hit her or something else, but she knew it wasn’t worth this. And if he’d growled for her, she definitely wasn’t worth this. Nothing was. This was cruelty on an unimaginable level, and Fletcher seemed to be enjoying himself like a kid in a candy shop.

  But she couldn’t look away.

  She watched as the whip came down on Everett’s back again and again. What Violet really wanted to do was call out. Pull herself away from the woman holding onto her and stand up, offer herself in Everett’s place…but this wasn’t a movie. This was real life, and while she liked to act tough, though she knew a bit about self-defense, she knew she’d pass out in pain after two lashes from that thing.

  No, she couldn’t take his place. All she could do was watch and feel responsible, like if she’d been more of an asshole of a hostage or a kidnapee or whatever she technically was, Everett wouldn’t have let out a growl when Fletcher hit her.

  Instead, she found herself squeezing the woman’s hand. Iris. Iris said nothing, probably because her strength was nothing compared to a shifter’s. Violet could squeeze with everything she had, and the shifter woman holding her hand would barely blink.

  By the time Fletcher was done, Everett’s back looked terrible. His shirt, completely shredded, blood oozing down his back and onto his pants. The flesh under the torn shirt was serrated and cut, bubbling with blood, angry and gory.

  Brice stood beside him, his hands struggling to not curl into fists, and Fletcher made note of it, saying, “I would simply take your brother and go, before he gets more blood on that carpet. I’m already going to have a hell of a time getting the stains out.”

  Kneeling beside Everett, Brice grabbed his arm and wrapped it around his shoulder, helping him to stand. Brice did most of the walking while Everett hobbled beside him. Both shifters threw one last look at Violet before they left.

  Everett’s look was apologetic, which okay, made sense because he felt bad about bringing her here. But as stupid as it was, Violet was having a tough time remembering that small fact; all she could see was the blood dripping down his back, the wounds in his skin beneath his shredded shirt. He might’ve been her kidnapper, but he didn’t seem like a horrible guy. In fact, she kind of liked him, in spite of herself. She didn’t want to see him in pain.

  On the other hand, the other brother’s look was…quite the opposite. When Brice glared at her on his way out, it was a look of hatred. Of sheer, undiluted anger. Like he blamed her for what happened. Like it was all her fault Everett had growled for her.

  Which was ridiculous, because she was human. There were no shifter pheromones or whatever it was that made them like each other so quickly. Violet knew shifters followed their instinct, often their animal one, and they knew instantly whether or not they liked someone like that. Maia had fallen in love with Alarick, Farkas, and Grimm after a fucking week.

  She was a shifter, though. Violet wasn’t. There was absolutely no reason why Everett should’ve growled for her. None.

  Once Brice and Everett were gone, Fletcher dismissed the guards standing near, running his hands along the leather straps on the whip, gathering the blood onto his palm and fingers as he turned to face her and Iris.

  Violet didn’t know Brice and Everett well, at all really, but she still felt something when they left. A bizarre loneliness had crept up behind her without her noticing. She wanted them to come back, and she wanted them to take her out of this hellhole. Stupid, because she needed no saviors.

  Realistically, she did need help to get out of here though.

  “Now,” Fletcher moved to stand before her, saying, “I trust that was an adequate demonstration of what will happen to you if you fail to heed an order given to you in this house. Whether it’s from me or one of my guards, or one of my clients, I don’t care. You can talk all you want, but when you offer an opinion that interferes with my business, I will not be forgiving. And when someone tells you to shut that pretty mouth of yours, I expect you will shut it.”

  Violet had a thousand questions to ask, and though her cheek still burned from his slap, she had to ask at least one: “But I’m human. What would you want with me? What could I…do for you?” She felt dirty just asking, because deep down she already knew.

  “I do have some clients who don’t have enough to pay for a night with one of my shifter girls. I’ve been debating on getting a few humans in here to test the waters. You’ll be the first, Violet. You should feel special.”

  Oh, yeah. Real special, getting sold to the highest payer like a fucking sex slave.

  But she kept her comment to herself—see? She was learning.

  “Iris, take her to the bath, find some clothes for her that don’t reek of shifter. I want this human to look and smell like what she is.” Fletcher laughed to himself, starting to walk away, tapping the whip against his bloodied palm.

  The last thing Violet wanted to do was take a bath, but she had little choice. She knew she couldn’t get out of here by herself. She needed help. But from who? She couldn’t count on Brice and Everett, not after what happened. Brice likely hated her, so that went down the drain. Maybe she could rally the women up, have them become their own pack of sorts? Could female wolves do that?

  Iris was slow to stand, still holding onto her hand as she led her out of the decadent room and through the large, expansive house.

  “I’m assuming in a house like this, we’re not talking about a normal bathro
om, are we?” Violet asked quietly.

  The woman in the lead threw a look over her shoulder, and a smile grew on her lips. She was maybe ten years older than Violet, but she was gorgeous all the same. Long hair, a chocolatey light brown color. Eyes a silvery grey, like a stormy sky. At least half a foot taller than Violet, lean and fit like shifters were. She was probably the prettiest woman she’d ever seen.

  “You will learn, Violet,” Iris said, her voice smooth like honey. It fell on Violet’s ears, a most welcome sound. A seductress on two legs, walking with poise. No wonder Fletcher liked her so much. Violet did too, after ten freaking minutes. “I will teach you what I know. It will make your time here better.”

  As they walked in the hall, they passed a guard. More like a shifter who wore all black, who looked like a weightlifter on steroids. He stood near an archway of stone, all marble or granite or some other expensive rock. Iris gave him a smile as she tugged Violet under the arch.

  The bath was apparently an entire room, all decked out with more stonework and even statues, because apparently this guy had money coming out of his asshole. All from selling shifter women. The room had three baths that were more like jacuzzies than anything, two smaller ones in the back and a large one closest to the archway that separated the room from the hallway. Each bath was level with the floor, meaning she would have to step down into it to get in the water.

  It was honestly like a scene from a movie, and if the situation didn’t suck as much as it did, Violet would’ve liked the room, especially the tile on the floor, a mosaic of blacks and whites, a geometric pattern repeating itself over and over.

  “Pretty,” Violet whispered, feeling Iris’s hand slip out of hers.

  “Undress and get in,” Iris said. “I’ll take your clothes to the trash and come back with something else for you.”