Angel (A Reverse Harem Bully Romance): The Brotherhood

by K. M. Raya

  “Maybe I wouldn’t be snooping around if you people would stop acting so sketchy. Ever thought of that?” I ask him. My smirk is pissing him off; I can tell by the way his hands are tightening around my collar.

  “Maybe certain people should stick to private places when they decide to beat their son to death.”

  His hand slides up my neck, gripping my windpipe—just enough to tell me he’s serious but not enough that I can’t breathe. Silently I curse myself for the way my heart rate kicks up and for the way my stomach dips in excitement. He looks so striking like this. I don’t know what it is, but something about seeing this prim and proper guy lose his cool makes me wild.

  Captain lowers his face, our breaths mingling. He looks like he’s about to kiss me, but I’m not that stupid.

  “Did you tell anyone?”

  I laugh in his face. They have so little faith in a girl who’s done nothing but help them. It's actually a little disappointing.

  “Don’t worry, Cap, I won't tell anyone your dirty little secret. I mean . . . what do I really have to gain from that anyways? I’m sure Dr. Daddy can buy my silence anyways.”

  His grip on my neck tightens and his handsome face twists in disgust.

  “You want money, is that it? Can I buy you off like a cheap little whore?” he spits out.

  My hand cracks over his cheek, conveniently in the same spot his father had struck him just that morning. I know it hurts because his eyes water ever so slightly. He does, however, let go of my neck and backs away.

  “I don’t want your fucking blood money. I have more money than I could spend in ten lifetimes, I don’t need yours.”

  He blinks at me in surprise.

  “You might want to tell your father and his friends to do their dirty work at home and not out in the open where anyone could stumble in on it. Next time, you might not get so lucky. Next time, it might be someone without a reason to stay silent.”

  His eyes flash and he steps closer. “And what reason do you have to stay silent? What are you getting out of this?” he asks suspiciously. His eyes flit back and forth between mine.

  I don’t really have an answer to that though. To be honest, I can’t even really explain why I feel the need to keep his secret. For some fucking reason, I want to keep this asshole safe.

  But I’ll never tell him that.

  “You don’t need to worry about my reasons. Maybe I just don’t like seeing someone get pushed around. Or maybe I’m just fucking with you . . . I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

  Captain presses my back into the wall and I let him. One of his arms is braced up against the tile, boxing me in and I can’t help the thrill that travels through me at his proximity. Looking at him now, you’d never guess at the beating he’d taken only hours before. Captain always seems so scrubbed clean and polished to perfection . . . maybe too much perfection.

  His silvery hair has not a strand out of place and even his eyebrows are groomed nicely. Those captivating yellowish eyes of his catch mine in their snare and I can’t bring myself to look away. His other hand surprises me when I feel it snake up the side of my torso over my shirt.

  My skin tingles, making me wish there was nothing separating our skin. The emotion in his eyes shifts, transforming from suspicious loathing, to uninhibited lust.

  He wants me.

  Despite the fact that he doesn’t trust me and that I’d had seen him in his darkest and most vulnerable moment, Captain wants me badly.

  Maybe even as much as I want him.

  I lick my lips almost absently, but the action has done its job because Captain groans, pushing his body flush with mine so that I can feel his dick hardening against me. The low, guttural sound of his voice sends waves of pleasure coursing through my veins like a drug as I find myself leaning forward ever so slightly. I can’t explain this magnetic pull I feel towards the uppity boy.

  I know his type.

  I know he’s dangerous.

  But so am I.

  It takes only a second for him to lose his composure. His lips slam into mine and I meet his kiss with a ferocity I hadn’t expected. My tongue skims his lower lip, begging for entrance and his moan reverberates through the awesome acoustics of the school bathroom.

  Captain’s mouth opens, tangling his tongue with mine as his hand grips my waist tighter, lifting me until his hips are perfectly aligned with mine as he grinds into me against the wall. He’s hard beneath his academy slacks and as he pushes harder, I moan through the pleasure, not caring who’s around to hear me.

  It’s been so long since I’d fucked someone. It had been a rookie enforcer who used to stand guard in front of my bedroom at night. He’d been hot and willing, but not necessarily the smartest man I’d ever met. If my father had found out about our short summer sharing a bed, he’d have shot him in the head long ago.

  My body aches for more as our kisses grow frantic. He’s still angry and so am I, but that anger turns to passion in the best way. His hips pump into my center and I find myself pushing downwards onto his hard dick, grinding and rubbing—wishing we were anywhere but at school.

  The friction our bodies create sends jolts of heat throughout my body. I feel like I’m about to come, and from the way his body shakes under mine tells me he’s close too.

  I’m never more grateful for the locks on the bathroom door than I am at that moment because suddenly, someone starts banging their fist against it like a fucking idiot.

  The moment shatters before I get the chance to.

  We both curse loudly.

  Captain drops me but I land on my feet. Both of us are panting—lips swollen and skin coated in a light sheen of sweat. I stare up into those perplexing sunset eyes of his, wondering what could possibly come from all this and whether or not we just made a mistake.

  I can’t take it anymore and break eye contact—turning to the sinks to splash water on my overheated skin.

  The click of a lock makes me turn my head, just in time to see Captain swing the door open, revealing the rest of the Brothers on the other side.

  He walks out with his head held high and not looking back once, but I don’t miss the penetrating, knowing glares of the three boys on the other side.

  ‘Shit.’

  Chapter Ten

  Captain

  ‘That fucking girl needs to leave,’ I think to myself for the millionth time as I sit in my car alone. I’m late as shit, but for some reason I just don’t really care tonight.

  Even if it’s somehow a figment of my screwed up imagination, I can still taste her sweetness on my tongue. It was the best drug I’d ever tried . . . and I’ve tried them all. It’s not like I’m a drug addict or anything—I’m definitely not. But when enough is enough, sometimes a guy just needs a little something to take the edge off.

  My headlights are off and the forest around my parked car is black and cold, with just hints of the night sky peeking out from the canopy of tall pine trees. Everyone else is already out there, I can make out the colors and shapes of our fathers’ vehicles not far from here.

  In the distance, a familiar flickering light illuminates a small clearing. I grab the steering wheel tightly; my white knuckle grip is almost painful. That clearing is the last place I want to be after the day I’ve had.

  This morning, while my father beat the fuck out of me for the millionth time, it was just another case of going through the motions. It’s the same song and dance I’ve endured for eighteen going on nineteen long years and I know it’s not about to change any time soon.

  Giles Montgomery is a goddamn monster.

  But then again, aren’t we all?

  My mask sits in the passenger seat beside me, taunting the last threads of sanity I’m barely holding onto. The blank spaces cut out for my eyes glare back at me in the darkness.

  I’ve always admired the artistry and craftsmanship that went into making this mask, no matter how much I hate the thing. The fur is soft and silky to the touch and as pale white as th
e moonlight shining down on the forest.

  A white tiger—a symbol of power, grace and majesty, but it only makes me feel like a fraud. Slipping on that mask is like slipping into another body . . . another mind. I lose more and more of myself every time and I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever get those pieces back.

  It’s an important night tonight, and being late will cost me dearly. My cousin, Micah will meet his bride for the first time, a gift from one of the Brotherhood’s associates. Micah technically isn’t even a Brother.

  Not legitimately anyways.

  He has his mask and his place in the group of important men, but he’ll always be the bastard son of my father. I call him cousin regardless. Micah could never truly hold rank against us legitimate heirs, but his loyalty is deserving of a wife nevertheless. He’s served this family loyally—doing the jobs no one else volunteered for.

  Bile churns in my stomach. I’ll never be fully onboard with this archaic style of matchmaking our fathers and their associates seemed to favor. It’s barbaric and I fucking loathe imagining the day it’s time to assume my own role. The thought makes me want to take a shower.

  The way these rich men sell their daughters off as a means of sealing contracts is disgusting. My skin feels tight and itchy—a sign of my ever dwindling sanity.

  Opening the glove compartment, I pull out a small bottle of hand sanitizer and frantically coat my hands. I know I’m acting crazy. Though the guys would never talk about it to my face, I can always see the worry in their eyes every time I excuse myself to take a midday shower, or wash my hands for the millionth time in a day. It’s not the germs that I’m afraid of though . . . it’s the nasty feeling of grittiness, dirtiness and filth.

  The blood that constantly stains both my hands and my clothes makes me feel like I reek of copper and guilt. Washing it away with soap and scalding water seems to be the only way to make that feeling go away.

  ✽✽✽

  Sparks drift up into the cloudless sky and ash falls back down in their place. By the light of the fire, the masks around me looked gaunt, striking and garish.

  I can pick out my father right away—a white tiger mask just like mine. Jack Draven is next to him, wearing the head of a male lion, golden mane and all that matches Carter’s next down the line. The tallest one among us is John Kingsley. He wears the head of a bull, with a solid gold ring through the nostrils, because the man just can’t help but be dramatic.

  Holden stands next to John, solid and ready to do whatever the old man asks of him. It should be John’s son, Samuel there beside Holden, but in this world, loyalty is never a guarantee. John had to come out of retirement to watch Holden grow into his role and tame the rebellious spirit inside of him.

  I still hate John though, the same way I hate Giles, Cole and Jack.

  The last one of the bunch, but no less intimidating is Ellis and his father, Cole Faux. A shiver passes over my skin as my eyes skim over Cole’s pitch black wolf mask. Its mouth hangs open slightly, showcasing two rows of razor sharp teeth, stained with dried blood from some long ago hunt.

  The wolf head is real. It’s been cleaned, polished and hollowed, but it still gives me the fucking creeps. It’s honestly fitting for him though. The man is darkness personified. His dark eyes that don’t match Ellis’ grey ones are cutting, dead and cold. He’s the ‘Fixer’ of the Brotherhood. The one to make messy things disappear. Knowing that Ellis is being groomed to follow in Cole’s footsteps makes me shudder. I’m well aware that Ellis has a darkness inside of him, maybe even more so than Carter—and someday, he’ll be as lethal as his father.

  They don’t say a word to me as I slip into my rightful spot beside my seething father. Although there are no words exchanged, I can practically feel the heat from the man's glare but attempt to ignore it for now. Another beating is sure to come later tonight.

  Idly, I find myself wondering when the day will finally come when I’ll fight back. It’s not that I’m not strong enough. I am by far, just like the rest of the guys. We’ve all been groomed and trained to run things from the day the doctors announced we were males.

  My body is cut like hard stone and my reflexes and skill are unmatched save for my three friends. My old man is starting to show his age and I know I could fight back and hold my own against Giles if I wanted to, but I’m biding my time. Someday though, that man will get a bullet in the head.

  And if things go my way—I’ll be the one to pull the trigger.

  We stand around the fire, waiting patiently. It’s quiet out tonight; the only sounds are crickets chirping in the background and the gentle crackle of the logs under the flame. I hate these stupid gatherings. Everything about it is archaic and a little cringey. We look like a fucking cult out here in these stupid masks, but dad claims we need them—both for traditions sake and in case someone happens to stumble in on us.

  I can’t help but think back to the other night—knowing Angel had been watching, at least until we chased her out of the clearing.

  I can see shadows moving in and out of the dark trees surrounding us on all sides. The Brotherhood employs many men to protect us, but they’re just shadows, to be unheard, but seen as an intimidation tactic and are paid well for their loyalty.

  Those men surround us now, ever watchful of the forest and any enemies that might feel like tonight was the night to pick a fight. With the Cassini’s acting up again, I’m reluctantly grateful for the additional line of defense.

  Through the dense foliage, the sound of a struggle erupts in the silence. Grunting, dragging and the distinct slap of skin on skin register. Bursting through the trees, two of our watchmen appear, dragging a slender blonde girl between them.

  A white silk cloth is wrapped around her head, cloaking her eyes and tied in the back. She’s wearing a white nightdress with no shoes on her muddy feet. She must be freezing. She looks to be no older than eighteen or nineteen, but I don’t recognize her and have no clue who she belongs to.

  The girl struggles, fighting every step of the way but I can see the moment the heat of the fire licks her skin. She stops in her tracks and so do the men holding her. My father steps forward, approaching the young girl slowly. He gently unties the bandana around her eyes and she blinks furiously against the firelight. Her blue eyes are filled with tears and resignation.

  Sure, she struggles, but she knows what she’s here for. No doubt her father has been preparing and grooming her for this day for a long while—training her to be a good wife and a loyal woman. Her jaw is set and her fists are clenched tightly, but we all know she’d never actually run away. It would be a death sentence for her.

  “Juliana Florentine, the Brotherhood welcomes you tonight,” my father calls out to her.

  I watch the girl flinch.

  “I’d like to take this time to introduce you to your betrothed, my nephew—Micah Montgomery.”

  He gestures for Micah to step forward. Micah is two years older than me, the product of an illicit affair between Giles and some woman he never speaks of. His blonde hair is just a few shades darker than my light silver strands, but the familial resemblance is too uncanny to claim anything other than blood ties.

  Tonight, Micah wears the head of a fox—its reddish fur glows orange in the firelight. His bright blue eyes shine from the hollow holes as they travel over Juliana.

  Apparently my cousin likes what he sees.

  Stepping closer, Micah reaches for her delicate hands and she lets him. I can see though, that her hands are shaking as they grip my cousin’s fingers. She doesn’t want to be here, but she’s still clearly resigned to her fate, just as all of our mothers had been before her.

  This woman will grow to love him eventually . . . or tolerate him at best. Regardless of her affection for Micah, she’d be expected to give him a son eventually, and that son will serve the Brotherhood just the same.

  Giles clears his throat and all eyes turn to him once again.

  “I, Giles Rufus Montgomery join these two
souls together. Between body and spirit, may you serve him well and bring him a son to carry on the Montgomery name.”

  I can tell that Micah’s grinning beneath his mask. Though I can’t see his face, I just know he’s pleased with his bride. He’s always been more like my father than I ever cared to be.

  “May you protect this woman, given to you by your Brother’s—may no man touch her, may no other covet what is now rightfully yours.”

  ‘What . . . not who.’

  Juliana looks terrified. Her chest is heaving more than ever now, and her bottom lip is quivering, as if she could break into tears at any moment. I hate this part. I hate watching this stupid ritual. I’d seen it only once before when Cole Faux remarried after Ellis lost his mother. I hated it then, and I hate it even more now.

  “Show me your hands,” he orders them. The two don’t hesitate.

  Giles reaches behind him, producing a shining dagger, gleaming in the moonlight. He walks closer to the flames and sticks the tip of it to the base of the white hot fire until it burns brightly. One at a time, he takes that dagger and drags it down the palm of Micah's and Juliana's hands.

  The girl cries out in pain before her palm is forced into Micah’s, mingling her blood with her new husband. He grips on tightly, not caring if he’s hurting her. The dagger is placed over the flame once more, crimson blood bubbling and crackling until it turns to dust and ash. But before it’s all finally over, the two newlyweds place their palms face up while Giles cauterizes their wounds with the side of the searing hot blade. Again, Julianna cries out in agony while I bite my lip until I taste blood in my mouth.

  This ritual is barbaric—it’s supposed to symbolize that blood oaths are sacred, and that those who pledge themselves to our Brotherhood do so for life. Each one of us had a similar ceremony when we came of age. Sometimes I like to daydream about grabbing that dagger and shoving it through Giles’ throat.

  Looking up to the sky, all I can see are ashes raining down over the clearing like snow, coating the fur of my mask in grey. Closing my eyes, I can’t help but picture Angel here, watching us like she had not so long ago.