Hers From The Start: A Collection of First In Series Reverse Harem

by Laura Greenwood

  Arc is by my side in a flash and takes me into his arms. His thick muscles press against my ribcage and I lean into him, burying my face in his chest. He feels so warm and comfy; I don’t want to let go. For a moment, I feel safe.

  “Everything will get clearer when we get there, lassie,” he whispers, his breath warm on my head. “Your mother will explain things, and you’ll learn how to control your powers. You’ll be magnificent once you know how to deal with them.” He gently rubs my back and I almost let my tears flow. But I don’t want to be even weaker in front of them. I detangle myself from his hug – regretting every inch I move away from his warmth – and step back until I reach the bed.

  They’re all looking at me, as if they’re not quite sure how to deal with all the drama. Don’t worry, boys, neither do I.

  “You can take the bed, Frost, I’m the smallest. I’ll take the sofa.” It doesn’t actually look that bad; it’s long enough for me to lie comfortably without my legs hanging in the air. And it’ll be a lot comfier for me than for the boys. Guess being small has its advantages.

  “No, Storm is right,” Frost says with a sigh. “You take the big bed.”

  Chapter Four

  I wake up and I know I need to get outside. It’s dark and judging from the light snoring coming from two different directions, everyone is still sleeping, but something important is happening and I need to leave this room, immediately. As quiet as I can, I slip out from under the covers and make my way through the dark room. A sliver of golden streetlamp light breaking through a slit in the curtains is the only thing illuminating the room, but somehow I know exactly where to tread without stumbling over our clothes or bags. Just when I reach the door, Arc lifts his head from the sofa closest to the exit. “What ye doin’?” he asks groggily.

  Without being called for, my magic springs into life. “Sleep,” I whisper, threads of magic carrying my command. He sinks back onto the sofa. I quickly step out of the room and follow the corridor to the elevator. I know I have to take it to -1, the underground garage. The lift is taking forever to arrive and hot sweat breaks out on my skin. I need to hurry up. For a moment, I debate taking the stairs, but then I remember that it’s important to take the elevator. I don’t want anyone to see me. Finally, the golden doors open and I step into the cabin. There are two men in there, dressed in black, but I ignore them. They’re safe, no threat to me.

  With a loud ding, the doors close, something hits me from behind and I black out.

  “…we should kill her now, while she’s unconscious.”

  “Boss wants to talk to her first.”

  “We have no idea what she’s capable of. It might be safer to not take the risk.”

  My stomach lurches and my head is one big pain. Where the hell am I? The ground below me is vibrating. I’m in a car, the boot, apparently, but without a cover so I can see the daylight shining through the back window. I must have been out for hours. Trying not to make a sound, I shift my limbs, assessing the situation. No gag, no blindfold – either the movies are wrong or these kidnappers don’t know how to do it right.

  Best of all: They used rope to tie my hands together. How lovely. Handcuffs would have been a lot harder. I concentrate and send a single tendril of magic to the rope, willing it to burn quickly but without smoke. A bright blue flame erupts, dissolving the rope in seconds. My hands are free.

  “Didn’t you see how easy it was to control her mind? Sweet like a lamb being led to slaughter. If only every job was this simple.”

  “You didn’t feel her magic. It’s strong, even though she’s untrained. She could rip us apart with a thought, Duke. We should kill her. I don’t know how long the spell will keep her subdued.”

  Anger curses through me. How dare they. Breaking into my mind, manipulating me to walk straight to them like an imbecile. How could I not have known? I was supposed to be powerful, but then how could they overpower me so easily? It’s time for revenge.

  I sit myself up, smiling sweetly at them. “It no longer does,” I chirp, before unleashing my magic. The guy on the wheel turns around, but I wrap him in icy strands of magic, rendering him immobile. At the same time, I shoot a blast of air towards the second guy, crashing his head on the dashboard. With a bang, the airbag inflates, pushing him back against the headrest. He's still, no longer moving. Good.

  The car swerves. Not so good. With both men immobilised, the car is driving itself. Oops, I didn't think of that. We're racing along the road; luckily there are no other cars around. I can see a tree-lined junction in the distance where the road forked into two. I need to stop the car or we'll crash. I send out a tendril of wind magic towards the pedals. The man's foot is still on the accelerator. Concentrating hard, I push his foot away with a burst of wind and use my magic to press down on the breaks. It's not easy to keep the wind concentrated on such a small area without pressing down the other pedals. I can feel sweat pooling into tiny beads on my forehead. The car slithers and groans, but it slows down.

  Too late. A tree crashes into the car - or do we crash into the tree? I am thrown forwards, suspended in the air as my magic bursts out of me, uncalled. I’m floating over the back row of the car, staring at the large branch that has broken through the windscreen, ready to impale me. I give my magic a mental hug. Without it, I’d be an unsightly human kebab by now. I ask it to put me down and I gently float down to the scratchy car boot floor.

  I crawl back into the boot, avoiding the evil branch that is blocking my way out. The back doors are bent; I doubt I can break them open.

  I try to open the car boot door, but it's stuck, no matter how much I rattle at the door handle. I shoot a burst of wind against it, but all it does is throw me backwards. Damn it. Imprisoned in my kidnappers' car. Now there's a sad story for you. I'll need to think of something better than brute violence. Fire maybe? But then, using fire in a crashed car might not be the smartest idea ever. Who knows if there's leaked oil somewhere.

  Would freezing metal do anything? Why not. I send some tendrils of frost magic to the edges of the boot door, thinking this might shrink the metal enough for it to open. Thin ice begins to cover the metal; little ice flowers that are making me smile. And when I kick the door and it actually opens, I smile even more. Fresh air, finally. I slowly untangle myself and climb out of the car.

  Now that I'm outside, I can see the whole extent of the accident. A tree has dented the entire front of the car, and one massive branch has pierced through the windscreen. I check on the two men, but they are either out cold or dead. I decide not to check. As much as I want to do the right thing and get them help, they did try to kill me. One of them was really quite adamant about that.

  I wish I had my phone with me to call the guys. Where are my Guardians when I need them?

  In the distance, I can see a car approach. They'll surely stop and call the police when they see the accident. I decide to disappear; they might ask questions that I don't have an answer to. On my left, bushes cover a low ditch. Perfect. I crouch behind the undergrowth, watching as the car comes to a stop in front of me. An older man gets out, looks around, then takes out his phone. I assume he's dialling 999. While he listens to the operator's instructions and checks on the two men, I'm crawling along the ditch, further away from the scene of the accident.

  How am I going to get away from here? We're in the middle of nowhere; all that surrounds us are green pastures with woolly white sheep. They're cute, but not much help in this situation. What I need is a phone. But then, I don't even have the guys' numbers.

  When I'm a few hundred yards away from the crash, I stop, giving my aching body a chance to rest. I curse the flat landscape, making it impossible for me to get up and walk. The good samaritan would likely see me, and so would any police cars or ambulances coming this way. My only option is to wait until they've come, dealt with the accident and left. I try to find the least muddy bit of earth around me, and make myself comfortable. This is going to be a long wait, and I'm still in my pyjam
as and slippers. I make a mental wish list: a jacket, warm shoes and a book. Oh, and a large thermos flask of tea, please. A portable heater wouldn't be bad, either.

  I grin at my own joke. Yes, I've come far enough to laugh at my own pitiable humour. Oh well.

  Fifteen minutes later, the ambulance arrives. A few minutes later, two police cars join it.

  I stay in my ditch, shivering and miserable. I look down the road and see another car approach. I'm just about to duck so I stay hidden, but then I notice the four passengers crammed into the small car. Four big, beautiful, male passengers. I jump up and wave at them like a madwoman.

  My guys have arrived.

  Chapter Five

  “When we couldn’t find you, we persuaded,” Storm smiles grimly when he says that, “the hotel clerk to show us the CCTV footage. Luckily your kidnappers were either stupid or careless. Their number plate was in full view when they left the parking garage.”

  “How did the number plate help you?” I ask, confused.

  “We’ve got… connections,” Storm adds. "All major roads have cameras that continuously track the number plates of all cars driving along it. It was easy to see their route, until they started to use smaller roads – but then a call came through about an accident involving this very car.”

  “Don’t ever scare us like that again,” Arc grumbles.

  I take the bait. “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll leash you and keep you within reach at all times.” His voice turns dark as he says that, and I swallow hard. The other guys turn away from me, hiding their smiles. Evil.

  "Do you still have your phone?" Frost asks as he takes out the sim card of his own and throws it out of the open window.

  "No, course not, otherwise I would have been able to call you."

  He nods sagely. "Guys, give me yours. We don't know who these guys were and what kind of resources they have."

  "But I just bought mine," Crispin moans theatrically.

  "Royal coffers, remember?"

  "Ok, but be gentle with it." He pretends to cry as Frost breaks his phone in two. So much for gentle.

  "Do you have anything else they could track?"

  Nobody looks at Frost for a moment, then Arc sighs and takes off his watch. It's one of those fancy smart watches that can do all sorts of cool stuff. Yeah, not jealous at all.

  "Sorry, mate," Frost grins, then conjures a sphere of water around the watch. Its display blinks a few times, then stays black. Death by drowning. Lovely. Arc looks wistfully at his broken watch. "Can I at least keep it?"

  "Better safe than sorry," Frost says and throws it out of the window where it joins a pile of broken phones and sim cards. "Now all we need to do is get rid of the car."

  "Thank the Gods," Storm calls from the driver's seat. "This thing is far too small. I'm not even sure if I can make it out of this seat without dislocating something."

  "Where are we going to get a new car from?" I ask. "And where did you leave our old one?"

  "When we saw that you were gone, we had to improvise." Frost avoids my eyes.

  "So you stole it?"

  "We borrowed it. We'll leave some cash in it for the owner."

  "Well, that's very generous of you," I huff.

  "Would you rather we had waited for the garage to repair our rental car? You'd still be sitting in the ditch had we not driven here straight away," Storm says angrily.

  I decide to keep my mouth shut. In a way, he's right. But only in a way. I won't tell him that, I don't need to inflate his ego even more.

  "We'll drive to the nearest village and get a new car. And then we'll drive to Ullapool without any delays. We need to get you to the Stones as soon as possible, especially with these people wanting you for some reason."

  "At least they want me," I throw at him.

  He's silent for a moment, then mumbles, "What gave you the idea I didn't want you?"

  "You've not exactly been very friendly to me since we met."

  Frost snickers, earning him a death glare from both Storm and myself. "Wyn, this is my brother at his friendliest. He's a lot less grumpy now that you're with us than usual."

  I stare at him. "Are you serious? He's arrogant, impolite, ..."

  "I can hear you!" Storm thunders.

  "I know, that's why I'm saying it."

  Arc interrupts. "As entertaining as this is, we need ta get going. I dinnae ken when the last ferry goes, so we'd better hurry."

  That shuts us all up. The voice of reason, coming out of Arc's mouth. That's... refreshing.

  Only twenty minutes later, we sit in a new car, a dark green Toyota. It's bigger than the last one, but I'm still squeezed by the two brutes sitting on either side of me. Storm is driving, as always, and his brother is sitting next to him, studying a map he found in the glove compartment. Which leaves me with Crispin and Arc on the back bench. Arc is slightly hunched, preventing his head from bumping against the ceiling. I'm pressed against Crispin, trying to give Arc more space. I don't think we're going to be able to stay in this position for very long.

  "Luckily those bastards took you in the right direction," Frost says, pointing at the map. "We would have lost a lot of time otherwise. But now we're only about an hour away from Ullapool where we'll take the ferry to Stornoway. From there it's about half an hour's drive to the Stones, so we should be at the Gate before night falls."

  "What will happen once we get there?" I ask.

  "We'll open the Gate and step through to the Realms."

  "You make it sound very easy."

  "It is. Piece of cake. Unless there are demons. Or Gods. Or, even worse, girls."

  I turn to Crispin. "Did he just say 'girls'?"

  He grins and loud-whispers, "The twins got a bit of a fan club. Some of the female Guardians and humans living in the border area of the Realm-"

  "Wait, there are humans living in the Gods' Realms?"

  "Aye," Arc says, grimacing. "Some Gods like to have... pets."

  "They keep humans as pets?" I cringe. Maybe I don't want to visit my mother after all.

  "Not those kinds of pets. Think more of... well..."

  "Sex, lassie," Arc barges in, grinning happily. "Apparently, humans are quite good in bed."

  I blush, wiping from my mind the image of naked humans surrounding a Goddess on her throne. "Does that mean Gods aren't?"

  I resist asking about Guardians. I don't want to give them the impression of a needy human female who hasn't been with a man in far too long.

  "There aren't many Gods around," Crispin explains, "and some prefer not to mix work with pleasure, so Guardians are out of the running. Humans are a logical choice."

  "How many Gods are there?"

  "How can ye not ken?" Arc shoots me an incredulous look.

  "Hey, I was brought up human. It's not my fault my mother didn't teach me anything about her world."

  That shuts them up.

  "Lass, she had her reasons," Arc finally says softly. I nod, looking out of the window, avoiding his glance. It's a sore point and I'd rather avoid crying in front of them. I don't cry very often, but somehow I feel like my hormones are in turmoil. Must be all this testosterone around me.

  We drive on in silence, slowly getting closer to a new chapter in my life.

  Chapter Six

  It's late afternoon by the time we arrive in Ullapool. We have no time to explore its pretty little streets as we drive straight into the maw of the ferry (seriously, it looks like a massive sea monster with its mouth wide open ready to swallow the cars and lorries that are waiting to board). The ferry is much bigger than I thought. There are several food outlets, a shop and even a tiny cinema. We head to a quiet corner in a pub-style restaurant. I have a quick look at the menu, but the movement of the ship is making me feel queasy already - I don't even want to think about how it'll feel once we leave the harbour. Instead of food, I order a whisky. The guys look at me strangely when I order a glass of the 12-year-old Highland Park, but I ignore them. Not every perso
n under 25 drinks their whisky mixed with coke or other travesties. I add a single drop of water, gleefully watching the Guardians' faces. This is fun. Whisky has never tasted this good.

  They have all ordered food, and by the time it arrives, the boat has left Ullapool and the waves have started to become bigger. The floor is vibrating from the movement of the engines, and together with the smell of the food it's beginning to make me feel nauseous.

  I excuse myself and head to the toilets. I don't have to puke (not yet, anyway), but I need to get away from the food. Okay, maybe the toilets weren't the best idea. Judging from the smell permeating the small room, nobody has cleaned them in a while. Or a lot of other people have been sick already, which I kind of doubt. I stumble back through the heaving corridors until I reach a lounge. Comfortable airline-style seats are inviting me to rest, but instead I step through a heavy door out onto the deck. I breathe in the fresh air - it's only slightly smelling of exhaust fumes - and go to the railings, looking down into the dark, foamy water. A few other people are standing outside, mostly smokers having a fag.

  With every breath, my nausea dissipates. Guess I'll spend the rest of the journey outside. I stick my hands into the large front pocket of my hoodie. I need to thank the guys later on for bringing my clothes from the hotel. Taking off my mud-crusted pyjamas was the best thing I did all day.

  Gulls are circling the ship, white dots in a cloud-hung sky. I wonder if they'll accompany us all the way to the islands. I close my eyes, breathing in the salty sea air. Below me, the engines hum a steady song. The enormity of this journey finally begins to sink in. I'm going to visit my mother. I'm actually going to see the Realms of the Gods. I've dreamed of travelling there all my life, and now it's finally time. I'm going back to the place I was born, and get to know the woman who gave birth to me. Maybe she'll even tell me about my father. On all her visits, and in her letters, she's refused to tell me who he is. All I know is that he isn't a God - but that doesn't really help, does it.