“You’re eighteen.” I shrug. “Legal by their stupid rules.”
“You’ll get fired.”
I laugh. “No I won’t.”
Her brows raise in confusion. “How?”
“Nobody does anything to me that I don’t want them to.”
A little glimmer of challenge comes into my Katrina’s eyes, a spark that isn’t normally there during daylight hours. “Really?”
Damn. That spark has my dick oozing pre-cum, and it takes everything in me not to slam her up against the lockers. But one of those stupid metallic handles would bruise her back. “Really.” My reply is gruff, because I’m holding back so hard. I should be used to it by now. I’m always holding back around her in this realm.
But the moment I think she’s ready…I’m going to fucking pounce.
Katrina stands, and though I still dwarf her by nearly a foot, I can feel the power dynamic in the room change when she steps forward. “Fine. I’ll go to the dance with you.” A dash of vixen enters her eyes, and her gaze gets hooded, those plush lips parting and holding me captivated. “On one condition.”
“Anything.”
“I get to pick your outfit,” she proclaims.
“Done.” The dam breaks. Her fucking smile undoes me, and all self-control is lost. I speed forward and dig my fingers into her ass. Two seconds later, I have her pinned against the door of the locker room and my lips devour hers.
It feels like my entire body is coated in flames as red-hot lust consumes me, and I press myself against her, grinding down and making us both moan into one another’s mouths.
Yells erupt from the gym behind her. I don’t give a flying fuck, but she pulls away, breathing hard, her eyes wide. “You better go. Before we get caught.”
I grind my teeth together and scowl. I don’t want to fucking go. But it’s clear the mood has been ruined for her. So, I snake my hand up the bottom of her shorts, grab the waistband of her silky panties, and yank until I hear a satisfying rip. Then I slide them out of her shorts and gently lower her to the floor.
I tuck her panties in my pocket, saying, “To be continued.”
Then I stride out the door.
Katrina
When there’s a knock on the hotel room door a few hours before the dance is slated to begin, I open it up with wary trepidation, half expecting to see one of my demons on the other side.
Instead, it’s a…
Middle-aged woman holding a garment bag?
“My, my, what a gorgeous woman you are!” she exclaims, shouldering past me to enter my hotel room. She has a distinct, lilting French accent that’s both playful and jovial, directly at odds with her severe appearance.
“Who’s she?” Adam asks curiously from where he’s perched on the edge of his bed, watching cartoons.
“I’m Hanna!” she says, pointing to her chest cheerfully. “Zolroth sent me to outfit his beautiful fiancée.”
“F-Fiancée?” I practically sputter in horror while I pull my phone out of my jeans pocket. Sure enough, Zolroth’s name flashes on the screen, accompanied by the message:
Sending you a surprise ;)
This Hanna lady must be the surprise.
Oh, god. Please don’t tell me she’s an elderly stripper or something. Did Akor steal Zolroth’s phone?
“I don’t know what—”
“Bathroom!” Hanna practically shoves me forward, a wide smile on her face. There are crinkles around both of her eyes that make her look decades older. It’s apparent that she smiles and laughs a lot, and for some reason, that instantly puts me at ease.
As soon as we’re trapped together in the confined space, she claps her hands once. “Strip!”
“Um…”
“Don’t be shy. I’ve seen it all.” She winks conspiratorially as I gape at her like an imbecile. Slowly, feeling incredibly stupid and half expecting for this to be a prank, I remove the sweatpants and T-shirt I changed into after school ended. As I strip down to my bra and panties, Hanna unzips the garment bag I hadn’t realized she carried in with her.
I see a flash of white before her soft hand grabs my chin, holding my face still.
“Yes… That would have to do… Yes,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me.
“Errrwhatareyoudoing?” My words rush together in a garbled mesh due to her tightening grip on my chin.
“Your man has paid me for the full experience,” she declares, twisting my face to and fro.
“Err…”
Please don’t be an Akor prank. Please don’t let this “full experience” be some sort of sex game. Or worse…a piercing of some kind.
My hands float up to protect my nipples. They like being whole, not holey.
The next few hours consist of more pampering than I ever experienced before in my life. I’m poked and prodded and even—shudder—waxed. My pink hair is curled into tight ringlets, half of it pinned at the top while the other half cascades down my back.
The white dress is surprisingly gorgeous, though I can’t help but think of wedding bells when I wear it. The V-neck makes wearing a bra impossible, so I settle on nipple tape instead. Because yeah, apparently, that’s a thing. The white lace stops just above my knees, cinching slightly at my waist. Whenever I move, the fabric twirls around me, the material unbelievably soft. It looks perfect with my pink hair, the two contrasting colors offsetting each other.
Hanna even applies a generous amount of makeup—light pink lipstick that gives my lips a fuller, natural look, blush on both cheeks, mascara and eyeliner, and a dark eyeshadow that gives my eyes a smoky appearance.
“I look…”
“Like a princess!” Hanna coos, patting my freshly curled hair like I’m some sort of dog. “Like…like an angel.”
I just barely—honestly, I deserve a reward for this—hold in my snort of derision. The fucking irony of being compared to one of those asslickers who want to kill my demons is not lost on me.
“Thank you, Hanna,” I say sincerely as I smooth my hands down the sides of my skirt. “I mean it, thank you.”
“Your fiancé is a lucky man,” she gushes before releasing a giggle befitting of someone half her age. “And a handsome one.”
Yeah…
Not gonna even bother to correct her on the first one. And the second…Zolroth is a sexy piece of meat. But he’s also mine, and I’m feeling kind of possessive and stabby, even though this woman is at least twice his age. Well, in appearance, anyways. I’m pretty sure my demons have her beat by a few hundred years.
“Katty? I have to go potty. And—” Adam cuts off abruptly as he enters the bathroom, blinking at me with wide eyes. After a moment, a beatific smile cleaves his face in two. “You look like a fairy princess!”
A delicate blush stains my cheeks as I duck my head sheepishly. The thing about young kids? They say exactly what they think. And Adam truly believes I deserve the title of a fairy princess.
Yeah, I’m a little teary-eyed. Sue me.
“Thank you, Adam,” I whisper as he continues to grin up at me.
“And to complete the costume…” Hanna reaches into her bag and procures a white, simple mask that covers my eyes. It molds to my face, the edges of the mask decorated in gorgeous pink gemstones that match my hair.
Tears prick my eyes at the knowledge that Zolroth did all of this for me. He made me feel like a fucking fairy princess. Me. I’ve always felt awkward. Invisible. Just one of those girls who drifts through high school, holding onto the promise of tomorrow because today is never quite good enough.
“I…I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to thank you,” I confess as I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
“You can start by not crying and ruining the makeup,” she scolds half-heartedly. A devious smile pulls up her lips as she stands on her tiptoes and squeezes my shoulder. “And you can allow me to design your wedding dress in the future.”
A nervous laugh escapes me as I twist side to side, watching the dre
ss cascade around my thighs.
What the fuck has Zolroth been telling her?
I convinced the guys to allow me to meet them at the dance. I know that it would’ve caused a massive argument (and in Akor’s case, bloody massacre) if only one of them was allowed to pick me up at the hotel.
After the babysitter arrived for Adam—Sasha from his daycare was more than happy to help me out—I head downstairs to the car I may or may not have stolen from Zolroth. Though, is it stealing if he knows I have it and hasn’t called the cops on me yet? I’m claiming Center privileges, dammit. And that includes fancy, gorgeous cars.
Damn. I just called myself Center. Am I accepting this? I shove that question aside and focus on the sleek leather seat and the hum of the engine as I start it up.
When I arrive at school, the parking lot is completely full and the gray sky is threaded with streaks of metallic violet. The sun is steadily sinking beneath boughs of trees, providing the building with a decidedly mythical feel. And though it’s December, and a fine layer of snow coats the walkways, the school is bedecked like it’s Halloween. Skeletons hang from the roof, cobwebs decorate the entryway, and a few ghosts decorate the windows.
I step through an archway constructed entirely of black and orange balloons, the words The Nightmare Before Christmas etched at the very top.
Students are dressed in a variety of outfits. Some wear normal dresses and suits, while others are in costumes. I spot a knight, a clown, and even a few cowboys. Janie is up ahead wearing a slutty nurse’s costume that reveals her lacy black bra and dark stockings. I have no idea how she expects to get inside with that outfit on, but I don’t care enough to allow my thoughts to linger on it.
And there, standing in the doorframe of the gymnasium and craning his neck from side to side like he’s searching for someone, is William Washington.
“Fuck,” I curse, jerking to the side just when his eyes sweep in my direction. I press my back flush against the balloon archway and work to control my breathing.
Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me.
When I peek my head around the corner, I watch William release a disgruntled sigh and turn to walk back inside. Do I feel awful for avoiding him? Absolutely. Despite everything, a part of me still remembers the unrequited love I felt for him only weeks earlier. I now know that the love I thought I felt was superficial at best, infatuation at worst. There’s nothing about William that’s really likeable, let alone lovable. I went on a date with that guy, and let me tell you…
Do not recommend.
Smoothing my hands down the sides of my dress, I lift my chin and emerge from my hidey-hole. Plastering a wide smile on my face, I step under the arch and through the doors to the gymnasium.
The interior is horrifying, which is exactly the point. Immediately to my right is a long table with a bowl of “blood punch” and “ice eyeballs.” There are what appears to be gummy hands and feet on a platter adjacent to it, as well as “livers” and “hearts.”
Even more decorations hang from the rafters—everything from a creepy, green-skinned witch, to a ghost made of sheets, to a skeleton that was once in the anatomy classroom, to a zombie.
But let me tell you…the man with decaying flesh and sunken eyeballs? Not a real zombie. Jason looks completely normal despite being…well…dead. And zombified.
Directly in front of me, a group of witches dance to the upbeat song while a couple dressed in normal “dance” attire sway to the beat in each other’s arms. It’s a weird clash of high school prom and a Halloween party.
Honestly, I hardly see the Nightmare theme at all, because the decorations are way scarier than the claymation movie. But I’m guessing the student council budget had its limits.
I scan the crowd, searching for my demons.
My demons.
My heart dances a little jig inside of my chest at the possessive term. I don’t necessarily know where tomorrow will lead, but I do know that tonight, I’m going to be in their arms. One way or another.
I spot Zolroth first, weaving through the crowd to get to me, a beaming smile causing his eyes to sparkle. My eyes track the way his muscles flex in his expensive, dark gray suit. His white teeth are blinding under the fluorescent, flashing lights.
“You came,” he breathes in wonderment, “and you wore my gift.”
“It’s beautiful,” I praise, suddenly feeling shy and uncertain. “I love it.”
His eyes spark with an unnamed emotion as he brushes at a strand of my light pink hair, pushing it behind my ear.
“You’re beautiful,” he declares, his voice just as soft. It’s barely audible over the thumping music. He extends his arm for me, and after only a brief moment of hesitation, I take it, loving the feel of his corded muscles beneath my small hand. “Now, I’m not the only one who wants to see you tonight.”
“Zolroth…” I begin as he leads me out of the gymnasium and towards a darkened hallway. “I know I agreed to go to the dance with you guys…”
He pauses in front of a smaller gym, a few doors down from the main one, and grabs a key ring from his pocket. I recognize it as belonging to Raz.
“But I don’t know what this means. I don’t know if this changes anything,” I blurt as he places the key in the lock and pushes the door open. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you guys because of me, and…”
And I don’t know if I can be the mate all five of you need. I’m only one person, one woman, and you guys are centuries-old demons who will tire of me. I’m not that interesting. There’s no way I can keep the attention or devotion of all of you. And that would break my fucking heart.
But I don’t admit that aloud. It’s too private, too personal, for me to articulate in words. I know Zolroth would deny it profusely, promise me that he would never hurt me, but my insecurities can’t be quelled with petty reassurances.
“Don’t think about that,” he whispers as I step inside the darkened gym. “Tonight, it’s just us. Tonight, we’re going to forget about everything besides that. Tonight, we’re just normal guys taking the most beautiful girl in the world to a school dance.”
He claps his hand, and bright light immediately engulfs the room. It allows me to see the four other men waiting for me in the center of the small gymnasium, the one the school isn’t using for the dance.
Van looks like some sort of sex god with his auburn hair messily tousled and his form-fitting black suit conforming to his slender figure. He smiles warmly when he sees me, his eyes making a slow, hungry track down the length of my body.
“Katrina,” he practically purrs, and I swear my vagina does a tap-dance down below. “You look radiant.”
“Y-You look radiant as well,” I stutter, because I’m super eloquent like that.
“You want to see radiant?” Akor pushes himself forward, and my eyes practically bug out of my head when I see that he’s wearing a white suit that matches my white dress. His pink mohawk has been brushed to the side, and it somehow demotes him from intimidating to approachable. Except for his alligator shoes. “I shoved a firework up my—”
“Katrina,” Raz interrupts, stepping forward. He hasn’t bothered with a suit jacket, instead choosing to wear a collared shirt and black pants. His sandy brown hair has been swept back for the night, and with his dark, possessive presence, he’s almost giving off a Dracula vibe.
I wonder if that would offend him.
He cracks a grin. “Nothing you say offends me, princess,” he murmurs softly.
Oh, be still my heart. I swallow hard around the knot that’s just formed in my throat. I get caught up in his stare, and I feel a second of déjà vu, like I’ve done this with him before—this longing stare. I mean, I know practically every look I give him is drenched in longing, just like my panties are drenched after every gym class. Except earlier today, when the bastard stole them and I had to wear my gym shorts under my uniform all day so that the school didn’t get a free
show.
As if he can read my thoughts, he pulls those panties out of his pocket, lifts them in front of me, and glides his thumb over the crotch.
Is death by spontaneous combustion possible?
(If so, I might be close. Call 911.)
A heavy hand on my shoulder turns me away from Raz, and I see Kastros. Unlike the others, who’ve gone pure human tonight, Kastros has embraced his demonic side. His thick blue horns protrude from his head, and his black wings extend from his back. He’s bare chested, and immediately, I hope like hell that no other girl at this school saw him walk in like that, because he’d start a riot. I know, because there’s currently one going on with my lady bits. They’re rioting and throwing Molotov cocktails at my clit, trying to entice her to get wild and crazy with them tonight and burn down all my personal rules.
Rules like meaningful, committed sex only.
I lift up my hand, but all I can sign is a stuttering H-Hi, because my eyes are too busy drinking in Kastros’ abs. It’s seriously a Herculean effort to drag my eyes up to meet his.
When I do, his smile is mischievous. And he signs, I’m going to kiss every inch of you.
My knees give out.
Seriously, right there in the middle of our mini-prom, my knees collapse and give way beneath me. They go on strike, and if Akor wasn’t such a stalker, I might have face planted. But he swoops in and saves me, scooping me up and giving me an Eskimo kiss. He rubs our noses together.
“Katty, my little cherry, we’re going to pop you tonight,” he says.
I pull away from him, panic stretching my eyes to full capacity until I’m sure I look like some fish-eyed, creepy Tim Burton claymation doll. “Nope. No popping.” I’m so not ready for that. I’m already half prepared for heartbreak. There’s no way I’m letting these demons have their sexy ways with me. I’ll never recover if I do.
Besides, wouldn’t they want an orgy? An orgy for my first time. Oh, that thought makes my heart flutter like a hummingbird. In a totally panicked, way too fast, no-good kind of way, even though the thought of all five of them naked and stroking themselves is so hot—
Wicked Souls: A Limited Edition Reverse Harem Romance Collection Page 150
