Her Wolves: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Candace Wondrak

  Brice nodded again. “Of course.” The smile that crossed Fletcher’s face gave him pause, and he watched as the shifter stood and walked out of the room. Tilting his head, he listened to him walk down the hall until he found a guard. Their voices were muffled, almost as if they were whispering on purpose, but Brice was able to hear a few choice words.

  Iris, Violet, now.

  Oh, shit. Whatever Fletcher had in mind, it couldn’t be good. It was going to be really, really bad. He was a psychopath with money, so Brice wasn’t sure what he expected. Closing his eyes, he had to remind himself this was all for Everett. Everett and Ivy. And, now, Violet.

  Fucking Violet. A human who shouldn’t even be in this mess to begin with.

  It was true he should’ve paid more attention the night when they grabbed her, but his mind was elsewhere, and he could smell shifter on her, even though it wasn’t strong. He should’ve realized it was her clothes. If he wouldn’t have mistaken her, literally none of this would be happening right now.

  Brice was the one who fucked it all up. He was the one who should pay.

  Fletcher came back within a minute, sitting in the same chair across from him. “This will be fun, I think.”

  “What will be fun?” Brice asked, almost hesitant to do so. Almost. The glimmer behind Fletcher’s eyes, how they flashed a quick metallic hue, signaling his inner wolf was excited, made his stomach harden.

  Whatever it was…it couldn’t be good.

  “The first step in helping Everett to realize the human is not his mate is to make him face the fact that the human is not his. With you here, I cannot think of a better way than to have his older brother return home smelling like her. He will be shocked, undoubtedly angry, but like any other emotion, he will get over it.”

  As Fletcher explained, Brice felt his palms grow sweaty. What in the hell was he talking about? The only way Brice would smell like her was if…if…humans didn’t really have smells. Not that strong of ones, anyway. Rubbing against a human wouldn’t make him smell like her. Only certain activities would make him smell like her. Surely he didn’t mean it like that. There had to be other things Brice just wasn’t thinking of.

  He wouldn’t—he couldn’t…

  The dread was clear in Brice’s voice when he asked, “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean, Brice. You’re going to fuck her. You’re going to devour her in the way your brother wants. And only when your dick is dripping with her juices will I let you walk out of here.” Fletcher’s chest let out a low rumble. “Unless this was all a game to you, to see if you could get something out of me. Unless you don’t want to help your brother. In which case, I have to say, I think it’s time I introduced your sister to some of my clients. They would ravage her.”

  Brice’s thoughts froze. His entire body grew sweaty. A threat to Ivy, a way to make him do anything Fletcher wanted. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He just…there was no way he would do this.

  If he didn’t, Fletcher would punish Ivy in the worst way possible.

  He wanted to bury his face in his hands, wanted to sigh out a long, winded, beaten sigh, but he kept his shoulders straight and his expression emotionless. Brice swore to himself he would not let Fletcher win this, even if he had to lose this particular battle.

  He had to do this. There was no other choice.

  Chapter Twelve - Violet

  The other shifters in the bath acted like Ivy didn’t exist, and as Violet made a beeline toward her, she thought she knew why. Fletcher had kept Ivy away from his clients. Ivy wasn’t like the rest of them. She was an other, and these women treated her as such.

  Ivy wasn’t just an other, though. She was beautiful. The most beautiful person Violet had ever seen, shifter or not. Skin pale as ivory, hair long and white and without a single yellow strand. Eyes that were so blue she could drown in them. She was beauty personified, and Violet felt her brain momentarily turn to mush while she walked toward her.

  Ivy sat with her bare legs in the bath, the rest of her body bare, though her long hair covered her breasts. She looked so sad, sitting there alone, and only when Violet plopped down next to her did she look up.

  “You’re human” was the first thing Ivy said to her, and her voice was just as wonderful as her looks. Soft and sweet, smooth like honey. It fell upon Violet’s ears, a most welcome sound. She looked to be near Violet’s age, maybe a year or two younger. Old enough she should be in college, not a shifter prostitution ring.

  Violet nodded once, unable to look away from her. Would she even be able to talk in her presence? She was…well, she was mind-numbingly pretty. Ivy looked a lot like her brothers—not that Violet meant her brothers were pretty.

  When Violet said nothing, Ivy asked, “Why are you here?”

  Glancing around the room, Violet thought the answer should be obvious. “The same reason all of you are here,” she finally said, praying to God she didn’t stumble over her words too much and sound like a noob.

  That made her sad, her beautiful expression falling. “So he’s getting into humans now, too?” There was a pause before Ivy added, “How do you know about us?”

  “Back home, some of my best friends are shifters,” Violet said. “I’m Violet, by the way.” For some strange reason, she really wanted to hear this woman say her name. She bet it would sound like heaven.

  “I’m—”

  “Ivy,” Violet spoke her name a second too soon, causing Ivy to gasp.

  “How did you…” A depressing realization must’ve crossed her mind, for Ivy’s lips started to frown. “No, not you, too.”

  Before Violet had the chance to say anything, she looked over her shoulder, at the archway. She couldn’t see much past the horde of naked women between her and the archway, but she saw Iris smiling and laughing…with a guard. Though her view was obstructed, she could’ve sworn she saw Iris reach up toward the guard’s face.

  That was…interesting, wasn’t it?

  “I’m sorry,” Ivy said, reaching for Violet’s knee. Her touch was both firm and soft, a welcome change to the rest of this place. It also caused all of Violet’s thoughts to fly out of her head. “If I could contact them, tell them to stop, I would. Subjecting other women to this life is not right. I wouldn’t have anyone else in here.”

  Once Violet got ahold of her facilities again, she gently touched the pale hand resting on her knee. It was softer than she’d imagined a few moments ago, not a single blemish or scar anywhere on her body…unlike a few other women in here. Some of them, she noticed, had ugly scars on their backs. Even though they were healed, they still looked like shit. Like Freddy Krueger took his knife hand to their skin and went to town.

  That’s what Everett’s back would look like, she realized. Violet wasn’t sure why the thought made her so sad. Everett was no one to her, right?

  “They told me about you,” Violet spoke quietly, meeting her gaze. Such a pretty, deep blue. A color she could dive into, get lost in. The bluest pair of azure eyes she’d ever seen. “I was actually hoping to meet you, to make sure you were alright.”

  Ivy gave her a tentative smile. “Why?”

  Why? Why did she…that was a good question, one Violet didn’t know how to answer. She remained silent for a while, until she whispered, “Because I care.” Stupid as it was, it was true. She cared about Ivy even before meeting her. She cared about the brothers, wanted them to get her back, otherwise this would all be for nothing.

  Plus, she liked to think of herself as a decent human being, and the world was seriously lacking in compassion these days.

  Ivy’s hand squeezed on her knee. “I’m glad to meet you, Violet. And I am sorry about what will happen, now that you’re here.” She glanced around them, at the chatting women. So many voices all echoing in the large room at once. “They might seem happy now, but they’re not. Most of them are miserable. Some are just happy to be fed.”

  “Have you ever tried to—” Violet’s last word, escape, was hushed
before she had the chance to speak it, stopped by a lean, pale finger against her lips.

  “They always listen,” she warned, slowly removing her finger from Violet’s lips. “Even when you think you’re alone, you’re not.”

  She wanted to focus on her words, but Violet found she was too zeroed-in on the tingling in her lips. Ivy’s fingers were ridiculously soft, like she put on lotion every hour. What would those fingers feel like in other places?

  Surrounded by all these naked women, it was hard not to be horny.

  Ivy lifted her hand from Violet’s knee, saying, “Are you going to get in, or just sit there?” Without a warning, she sunk down into the water, completely submerging herself for a few seconds before emerging and wiping the wet hair from her eyes. She leaned on the bath’s edge. “I’m sorry. It’s just…you’re the first one to ever talk to me. No one else does, because they think I’m…special.” A second passed before she added, “In here, you don’t want to be special.”

  She wanted Violet in the bath with her? That Violet could definitely do.

  Violet kicked off her tennis shoes and was just out of her shirt when a tall presence suddenly stood beside her, having walked through the bath without making a sound. Slowly setting her shirt down, Violet glanced up to Iris, who currently gazed down at her with something strange in her grey eyes.

  Sadness? Hopelessness? What in the world—

  “I’m afraid you must come with me,” Iris said, bending to grab her arm. She didn’t even give Violet the chance to put her shirt back on before she heaved her to her feet and started to drag her away from Ivy and out of the communal bathing room. “I’ll bring you back once they’re finished with you.”

  “When who…” Violet let Iris’s words sink in as they walked through the halls. “What are you talking about?”

  Iris stopped suddenly, turning to her. She leaned her head down, pressing her lips against her ear as she whispered, “I promise you, this will not last forever.” Straightening out, she added in a louder, more normal tone of voice, “It is easier if you do not fight. It will be over quicker.”

  “What?” Violet did not like the things she was saying. Not at all.

  She was dragged through the house’s large first floor, past the grand staircase and through the hall that led to the dining room. Violet was brought to a room full of chairs and couches, where two men were—Fletcher and Brice.

  Brice? What the hell was he doing here?

  Iris sounded monotone as she released her hold on Violet’s arm and said, “She is all yours.”

  She was…what? What did Iris mean? What did any of this mean? Violet suddenly felt so naked, even though she still wore bejeweled pants and a bra that was way too sparkly to belong to her. She glanced back at Iris, watching as she made her way to Fletcher’s side, draping herself across his lap like some kind of pet.

  “Violet,” Fletcher spoke her name. It sounded so much coarser and more grating coming from his mouth. “You remember Brice, don’t you?”

  It’d been a day. A single day. How could she forget? Did he really think her so stupid because she was human?

  Her face must’ve been funny, for Fletcher laughed. Violet was measured in moving her stare to Brice, who gazed at the carpet steadily, as if its pattern wasn’t nausea-inducing. Then his hands. Then the wall. Basically, he looked anywhere but at her.

  Brice looked more disheveled than he did yesterday, like he hadn’t gotten much sleep. Violet wondered if he looked like this because he’d spent the night worrying about Everett, about Ivy, if their screw up for getting her instead of Maia would cost them their sister. Ivy had looked fine; he deserved to know she was okay, but it wasn’t like she could go and say it aloud while Fletcher was in the room.

  She was smarter than that.

  “What’s going on?” Violet asked, hesitant in speaking because she didn’t want to get hit. Or whipped. Or whatever else Fletcher enjoyed doing to make the women under his tirade obey him. It definitely was a switch from her usual temperament; she was the kind of person who said whatever was on her mind, no holding back.

  She remembered the pain on her cheek as she thought about the last time her mouth had run away from her. Nope, not again. She could not do that here.

  “It seems Everett’s wolf is infatuated with you,” Fletcher spoke, stroking Iris’s back. “Surely you’re smart enough to know that him desiring you as his mate is a foolish thing, pointless, because you will never be his.”

  Uh…what now? That was the first time Violet had ever heard of it, and she was speechless. Everett’s wolf knew it wanted her as his mate after knowing her for, like, a day? One day was all it took? While she was tied up and helpless? What kind of sick freak was he?

  “Do you know why you’ll never be his?” Fletcher grinned. “Because you belong to me now. Because you do what I tell you to. And, of course, we can’t forget Brice, who also knows how idiotic it would be for his brother to continue to pine away after you.”

  Violet still wasn’t sure what it had to do with her, and she was slow to look at Brice. The shifter still would not look at her.

  “Brice wants to help his brother, and I’m being generous enough to allow your help, too.”

  Okay, this was getting weirder and weirder, and Violet had a nagging suspicion she wasn’t going to like whatever help Fletcher had planned.

  “You’re going to let Brice take you. He will fuck you like a wolf until I am satisfied that your smell is all over him. Only when I am satisfied will I let the both of you go.” A smugness grew across Fletcher’s face, and Violet wanted to sock it right off him. Punch him as hard as she could in the gut, karate-chop him in the throat and poke out his eyes.

  Like hell she’d have sex with Brice. She didn’t even like the damned shifter. He was an ass, through and through. If she was going to be forced to whore herself out, she’d rather sleep with Everett. At least he seemed nice. Brice had nothing going for him but his looks.

  And his sister.

  Fletcher saw her hesitation—it was plain as day to everyone in the room, since Violet remained planted firmly in place—and he said, “If you don’t let him take you, I will let him use force on you. Surely you don’t want that?”

  On his lap, Iris glanced at her, as if wordlessly telling her just get it over with already. It’s not a big deal. Let him fuck you and we can all be done with this.

  When Violet still didn’t move, Fletcher said, “Brice, go on.”

  Brice didn’t move, either.

  Violet studied the white-haired shifter. He didn’t want to do this either, so why the hell was he here? Why didn’t he just walk out? The look on his face was one of pure torture, very similar to the expression he wore yesterday when Everett was getting whipped…only this one was worse. So much worse. Like if denial and regret had a baby, it would be his face.

  “Or should I get Ivy down here and take her while you watch?” Fletcher’s words were venom, pure and utter acid, spoken with such hatred, Violet’s fingers started to tremble. “Shove my cock in her mouth and make her choke on it?”

  Fletcher’s threat was all it took.

  Brice got to his feet, his eyes downcast. He walked over to Violet, grabbing her wrist. Standing beside him, feeling his fingers curl around her wrist, she felt small. Unimportant. Just something to be used. He was nearly a foot and a half taller than her, dwarfing her in every way. His muscles, his width. Everything about him screamed giant. Or maybe she was just too small.

  He took her to the nearest couch, his eyes meeting hers for a split second before quickly looking away. Violet’s indignation about this whole thing faded somewhat, not that she wanted it to. She knew it was either screw her and hurt his brother or have Ivy raped like an animal. Of course he was going to choose the former.

  And after meeting her, Violet couldn’t blame him. She wanted to protect the pretty shifter, too. There was hardly anything beautiful left in the world, but Ivy was one such thing. Kind, even after being locke
d up for so long, even after being ostracized by the other women. No, if anyone had to take a blow, it was Violet.

  It wasn’t like she was some innocent virgin. She’d seen penises. She’d seen a lot more vaginas, though, after she realized she kind of liked them a little better when she was fifteen. Women were usually nicer all around.

  She didn’t like Brice, but she knew he was only doing this for his sister, because Fletcher was a sick and depraved man who got off on making other people suffer. This would just be another notch on the belt, another reason Fletcher had to be taken care of, somehow.

  Hopefully sometime soon, because this memory would stick with Violet for a long time.

  Violet stood between him and the couch, doing her best to keep calm. This would be over sooner if she didn’t freak out. By the look of it, the shifter himself was freaking out enough—like having sex with her was one of the most disgusting things he could possibly do. A little insulting, but she understood. She didn’t want to fuck him, either. He was way too much of a dick for her taste.

  Brice’s fingers went for her pants, fumbling. She held back an eyeroll and swatted his hands away, causing him to look at her sharply, like he thought she was telling him no. No to this entire thing.

  If she had a choice, she would’ve; but she couldn’t, so she only lifted her eyebrows as she undid the button and zipper on her pants like a pro. Really, female jeans weren’t so different from male jeans, even with all the jewels sewn in.

  They glared at each other for a moment, and Violet wondered if she should shimmy out of her pants or—her thoughts were interrupted by a coughing sound from Fletcher, his wordless cue they were taking too long.

  Brice quickly bent, his hands snaking through the belt loops of her jeans, yanking them down in one fluid motion, so strong she nearly fell over. He was very slow to stand, his hands drawing up her sides, stopping when they reached her panties. Again, far too sparkly for her tastes, and probably way too expensive.