Theirs To Defy: a Reverse Harem Romance

by Stasia Black

  But a wife… Good Lord, Jonathan hadn’t let himself think about anything like that in years. It just wasn’t in the cards for a military man like him. He’d made his peace with it. His family was the military and he had David. It was enough. It was plenty.

  Or is that just the line you’ve fed yourself for over half a decade now? Haven’t you always wanted more?

  Jonathan ran a hand down the back of his neck. Well, sure, watching families up close and personal since he’d come to the caves was, well… who wouldn’t want that? Of course it looked great from the outside in. And well, Jonathan had never really had the whole loving Mom and Dad thing, so he was just sentimental about the idea of family. So he over-romanticised the whole thing. That was all.

  He’d just been alone for so long.

  Because when you couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night, that’s when you really knew it, down deep to the marrow in your bones—you were alone. So alone in the world no one would care much if you lived or if you died.

  But a family…

  Jonathan looked over to David, his chest clenching tight even as he did. Because there was no way David would go for it. Not in a million years.

  When his eyes locked on David’s though, it was only to find him already looking at Jonathan, a peculiar expression on his face.

  “What?” Jonathan asked, only then realizing Drea had stopped talking.

  “We could be a family for real,” David said.

  Drive a fucking ax through Jonathan’s chest, would ya? Because of course David knew what Jonathan was thinking, probably before Jonathan had even had the thoughts himself. He only thought David had been distant lately. But David was always there. Connected to him closer than a brother, or a father, or any other human could possibly be.

  Then David turned and walked closer to Drea. During the whole conversation so far, or maybe Jonathan would call it negotiations so far, David had been hard and straight-laced, every inch the General.

  But as David approached Drea, Jonathan watched the softness come into his features he usually only displayed when it was him and Jonathan alone.

  “You don’t have to offer yourself up like this,” David said, his voice gentle. “We’ve already agreed to come on the mission. We’ll be with you a hundred percent.”

  Drea seemed taken aback by David’s transformed demeanor. She blinked a few times and then her back stiffened, like David’s softness made her want to throw up shields and become even harder.

  “It’s not just this mission. This is a war. One I intend to win. I will free my women from the Black Skulls and then I will give them a country where they can finally live without fear.”

  David’s face tilted to the side, softening even more as he nodded. “That’s something we both want.” His brows drew together. “So you don’t have to sell yourself in order to get our help.”

  Drea stepped toe to toe with David, her eyes glacial. Only at David’s sharp inhale of breath did Jonathan see the hunting knife she held to David’s crotch.

  “Call me a whore again and see if you like the way I rearrange your family jewels.”

  “What?” Jonathan sputtered. “He wasn’t—”

  But Drea had already started talking again. “Arranged marriages have been the norm for most of human history. The only difference is that I’m doing the arranging myself instead of my father or some male relative. Do you have a problem with that?”

  Her face was so close to David’s she must be able to smell the orange-scented cornstarch they used in place of deodorant.

  “No,” David said, never breaking eye-contact with her. “No, I don’t have a problem with it.” And Jesus, the intensity burning between the two of them was enough to light the vapors from the oil lamp burning beside them on fire.

  Jonathan had never seen David with a woman before but he could suddenly imagine him pushing Drea to the floor and dropping on top of her. He’d peel those jeans down her legs and then she’d spread her pale thighs wide open and—

  “Excellent,” Drea said, taking a step back from David and swallowing quickly before squaring her shoulders. “She gave a nod. “So we have an agreement?”

  David’s jaw tensed but he gave a hard nod. “We have an agreement.”

  Holy shit. Did that really just happen?

  “We’ll have a small private ceremony after the Council meeting,” Drea said. “Then we’ll consummate the marriage and spend tomorrow preparing for the mission. Tomorrow night we’ll leave for Houston.”

  She turned and left the cave with a swirl of blonde dreadlocks but Jonathan stood rooted in place, absolutely stiff—in every meaning of the word.

  Because replaying on an endless loop in his head were the words she’d listed off so casually: then we’ll consummate the marriage.

  As in, tonight.

  Tonight they’d consummate the marriage.

  Holy. Shit.

  Chapter Twenty

  DREA

  Drea was shaking when she left David and Jonathan’s cavern. David—that was how she’d decided to think of him. No more General Cruz this and General Cruz that.

  General Cruz was an untouchable figure who commanded thousands.

  David was a man.

  No, he’s neither of those. He’s an asset. For as long as he remains useful.

  She wouldn’t be dumb enough to think that just because she was bringing him into her clan, into her bed, that she could trust him. Or that Lieutenant Colonel of his.

  But this way, she’d be able to keep an eye on them. And when the time came, she’d be in the position to do whatever needed doing to take care of her women.

  Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer.

  As close as a lover.

  Thomas had taught her that lesson and in a way that she’d never forget it. Back then she’d been Sophia’s age and convinced it was love. She could have written odes to true love—it’s heights and depths and widths of being. She was pretty sure there was even some terrible half-scribbled poetry somewhere that attested to the fact.

  But Thomas was slick, so slick, even back then at twenty-one, just three years older than her. Keep your enemies close. And when the time is right—STRIKE!

  She remembered it like it was yesterday—lying in bed beside Thomas after having made love, swapping dreams of the future. Dreams that more and more centered around Thomas himself. Which only made sense to her, because at the time, he’d been her universe.

  “We’ll get married and then you’ll take over for Daddy as Pres,” she said happily as she played with Thomas’s hand, intertwining her fingers lazily with his.

  “And you’ll immediately start knocking me up with as many babies as possible. Twin boys to kick-start things, so you’ll have boys to pass the MC on to one day.”

  Thomas let out a bark of laughter.

  Drea loved the sound of his laughter and she snuggled even closer against his side.

  “Twins?” He shook his head, then grabbed her and rolled them, landing on top of her and pinning her underneath him on the bed, hands holding her wrists to the mattress.

  “I think you’re forgetting a few key details, Princess.” He was smiling but his eyes were dark in that way that sent a shiver down her back sometimes.

  She tried to lift up off the bed to kiss him but he held her wrists firmly in place.

  She pretended to frown up at him and struggle. She knew he liked feeling in control and she was happy to play his little games. “And what, pray tell, am I forgetting?” she asked, finally giving up on struggling and flopping back to the pillow.

  He smiled a wolf’s smile and leaned down over her. She thought he was going to kiss her but he didn’t. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that your dad only turned fifty last month and there’s no way he’s passing the Pres patch on any time soon. Let alone to the likes of me. He hates me, Belladonna.”

  Drea immediately started shaking her head. “No. Thomas, he just doesn’t know you like I do. If you two c
ould just—”

  “Then there’s my Dad, who sure as fuck wouldn’t let me have Pres before claiming it for himself. Even if it meant gutting me with his bare hands to get to the throne. Though he’d make a fucking mess of the Skulls if he ever became Pres.”

  “Stop it,” Drea said, frowning.

  “Stop what?” Thomas laughed, and this was the laugh she didn’t like—his mean laugh.

  She wanted to pull her hands over her ears at the sound but he still had them pinned. “Saying what, Bella? Saying shit like it is?”

  She tried to lift a hand to his face but of course he wouldn’t let her. She rolled her eyes and huffed out in frustration at being forced to be immobile. Though secretly, she kind of liked it.

  She was the daughter of the Black Skulls MC president. Thomas wasn’t wrong when he called her Princess. No one else dared to treat her like Thomas did. Which she knew was part of why she was so wildly attracted to him.

  He didn’t obey her father’s unspoken command of do not touch when it came to his daughter that everyone else in or related to the club understood all too well. Thomas didn’t handle with care.

  She had bruises on her shoulders and thighs from their lovemaking. She’d never felt more alive than when she was alone with Thomas.

  But she hated when his moods went dark like this.

  He climbed off her, still holding her wrists the whole time so she couldn’t touch him.

  “Thomas, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  She pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts after he finally let her go to reach for his pack of cigarettes. “Don’t ruin it. We had such a nice night.”

  He laughed the dark, mean laugh.

  “Princess Belladonna. Living up here in her beautiful house on the hill with all her designer clothes and trinkets.” He picked up a pearl necklace draped on her little antique make-up bureau.

  “Thomas, stop it. Put that down.”

  “Where did Daddy say he picked this up for you, again?”

  “You know he got it at Tiffany’s when he went to New York last year. You were with him on the run.”

  Thomas really started laughing now and she squared her shoulders, sitting up straighter.

  “I’m not an idiot. I know my father does illegal things.

  “Oh, you figured that one out all on your own, did you?”

  “That’s enough.” Drea yanked the sheet with her as she stood up from the bed and pointed for her bedroom door. “Leave. You’re being hateful and I’ve been nothing at all but gracious and kind to you. I don’t want to talk to you again until you’ve apologized and learned what it means to have a civilized tongue in that barbaric head of yours.”

  Thomas just shook his head at her as he pulled on his jeans. “You’re almost nineteen, Princess. Don’t you think it’s time to learn how Daddy makes his money?”

  She glared at him, locking her jaw. “I know about the drugs, okay? And the guns.”

  Was it so bad if she just tried not to think about that part of her life? Dad was just Dad. Once when she was old enough to ask about it, he’d ruffled her hair and said, Drea baby, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. He was the only one who called her by her first name and not Belladonna. Sombody’s going to be moving these products. And isn’t it better if it’s us rather than some violent Mexican gang like MS-13 raping and killing their way through our towns?”

  She’d shaken her head and he’d kissed her hair. Besides, it’s our second amendment right to arm ourselves. Government shouldn’t have a say in how we protect ourselves or what we put in our bodies when we want to have a little fun. You believe in freedom, don’t you, Andrea?

  She’d nodded and he’d given her another kiss. I’m glad we had this talk.

  But Thomas just laughed. “Guns and dr—” He shook his head. “Wow, Princess, you really are clueless.”

  She leaned over and picked his shirt up off the floor and threw it at him. “If I’m so clueless and naïve then why are you even here? Why bother with me at all?”

  His face softened but only for an instant.

  “Oh Princess,” he sighed, running a hand down his face. He dropped his head for a moment and Drea frowned. In spite of the fight they were having, part of her wanted to go to him, to wrap her arms around his waist and bury her head against his familiar chest.

  But then he whispered the words that would change everything. The words that were the catalyst for a chain reaction of events that ended with losing absolutely everything she ever cared about in the whole world:

  “Princess, if you want to know how your father really makes his money, go look in the warehouse the MC owns, out by the docks.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  DREA

  Drea headed back through the section of tunnels the women used for sleeping when she spotted a familiar head of long, dark brown hair.

  “Sophia,” she called

  Sophia’s head turned from where she was standing with a group of women, eyes searching and then narrowing in suspicion when she saw Drea.

  Drea let out a breath as she crossed the distance. Shit. Saying she’d started off on the wrong foot with the girl was an understatement. And now Sophia would be her… stepdaughter? Drea shook the thought off. She’d be family, anyway.

  Because while Drea considered the arrangement with David and Jonathan business more than anything else, Eric was different. Eric was… well, Eric.

  And if there was one thing she knew about him, it was that he loved his daughter. Drea owed it to him to try to make this right.

  “Do you have a second?” Drea asked as soon as she got close to Sophia. “Could we maybe,” Drea looked around at all the other people streaming past them heading for the dining cavern, “find some place to talk?”

  Sophia crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure I want to hear whatever you have to say, but go ahead. Talk.”

  Drea let out an annoyed breath. Do not let her get under your skin. Do not let her get under your skin. Remember Eric.

  “At least come over by the wall?”

  Not waiting for an answer, Drea headed for a small natural alcove off to the side of the main pathway. She didn’t look over her shoulder but to her relief, a few moments later, she felt Sophia behind her.

  Drea turned to her and held her hands out. “Look, I want to call a truce. I know we never got along the best—”

  Sophia scoffed her assent.

  “—but for your dad’s sake, I was hoping we could change that.”

  Sophia’s back stiffened. Oh shit, here we go, Drea thought.

  “Because you and my dad have gotten so close all the sudden,” Sophia said, eyes narrowed angrily. “The same man you couldn’t stand just a few weeks ago. The same guy you had nothing but contempt for every time I tried to say he was a good man.”

  Okay. Drea deserved that.

  “Look, I’m not saying that I’m an angel, okay? I fucked up. I get… prickly about certain subjects.”

  “Prickly?” Another scoff. “I could think of a few different choice adjectives.”

  So this was how it was going to be?

  “Fine,” Drea said, dropping all attempts at a conciliatory voice. “I was a bitch. Is that what you want me to say?”

  Sophia’s arms dropped. “For starters, yeah.”

  Drea shook her head. “Jesus, you really are such a—” Princess. She’d been about to say you really are such a princess.

  Drea took a step back from Sophia, blinking. Holy shit. Was it really that basic? She’d disliked Sophia on sight because she…

  She reminds you of you at her age.

  “What?” Sophia frowned, obviously seeing the change in Drea’s manner.

  Drea held up a hand. “I— I—” she started but then she didn’t know what to say, not for a long second. Sophia just watched on in bewildered silence.

  Finally Drea took a deep breath. “Look, I think I’ve been really unfair to you.”

 
Whatever Sophia had been expecting her to say, that had obviously not been it. She looked shocked and disarmed. And maybe any other time, Drea might have tried to use that to win points against her, but right now she was feeling too raw to do anything other than be honest.

  “I was a lot like you when I was your age. I loved my dad more than anything in the world. He was my hero. I thought he’d always take care of me. Protect me.” The last words came out on a choked whisper.

  Because in the end, he had tried to protect her, hadn’t he? In his own fucked up way?

  Drea sucked in a breath, looking at the floor so she could get out what she had to say. “But my dad wasn’t a good man like your dad. The person I’d idolized my whole life,” Drea stopped, shaking her head, “he did terrible, terrible things.”

  Even as she said it, she was reliving that horrible night. After Thomas left, she’d gotten dressed and taken Stella, her Ducati motorcycle. She knew the warehouse by the docks. Her dad had taken her there only once, years and years before. He’d just gotten in a shipment of vintage muscle cars from overseas and he’d wanted her to see them fresh off the boat.

  But when she cracked the chain with the bolt-cutters she’d brought and heaved open the door, it wasn’t old cars she found inside.

  It was women. Girls. Some as young as fourteen.

  They were held in caged stalls like animals. It smelled terrible. They had no other choice but to shit and piss in the same cages where they slept. She’d learn later that the warehouse was merely a processing facility on their journey—the port at Houston was where they were trafficked in and out of the country.

  That was how the Black Skulls really made its money—human trafficking.

  And her father had been the President of the Black Skulls’ charter chapter for almost fifteen years.

  Drea’s head bowed lower.

  “When I learned the man he really was…” she let out a humorless laugh, fighting against the stupid tears threatening to choke her. “It all but broke me.”

  “What happened?” Sophia’s soft question made Drea look up. Sophia’s combative stance was gone and so was her petulant righteousness. She looked like she genuinely wanted to know. And the compassion in her eyes was too reminiscent of her father.