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

by Laura Greenwood

“Good night, Terra,” he says, and I nod, watching as he climbs over the railing and shimmies to the thick trunk.

  “Wait,” I whisper-cry. He pauses, alarm glittering in the black of his irises. “There’s more isn't there? Things you haven’t told me yet?”

  His Adam’s apple bobs, and I know I’m right. “We have time,” he says. “Try to get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then the darkness swallows him and I’m alone.

  But as I lock my door and go back to bed, a small smile lifts the corner of my lips. Because although I’m still reeling from the revelations of the last forty-eight hours, although I know my life will never be the same again. I’m not alone. Not really. I have Endo, Cael, Ross, and Sol. I might not understand it yet and the idea might terrify me, but it’s the truth.

  Of that I’m certain.

  EARTH

  He watched from the shadows as Ross left her room and used the tree to climb down, disappearing between the buildings the second his feet hit the asphalt. He’d known one of them would go to her. The fact it was Ross was a surprise.

  Fuck.

  He’d been too hard on her. Pushed her too much too soon, but they were running out of time. Terra should have arrived in Atchison last fall, just turned eighteen and coming into her powers. But life—her human life—got in the way.

  By the gods, the wait had almost killed them. Endo had wanted to go to find her. The two of them almost went head to head over it. But, in the end, they all waited it out, honoring her orders. But it was not without consequence. Endo became a loose cannon, his temper getting the better of him. Ross fell deeper into himself, into the guilt which had eaten away at his soul for almost a century. Cael was… well, he gave off a cool-as-a-cucumber vibe, but he felt it as much as the rest of them.

  Eighteen years without her had felt like a lifetime. Of course, they’d all stayed on Earth ever since she decided to fall. How could they not? Even if she’d ordered them not to search for her, they felt closer to her. The whispers of her energy. It wasn’t until Terra’s eighteenth birthday approached that the signs started and then they got the break they needed. It made perfect sense she’d be reborn in Lebanon, Kansas. It wasn’t only the geographic center of the United States, it was so much more. A beacon for mystical energies and happenings, Kansas was densely populated with divine beings. And Terra had no clue.

  But that was her price to pay for leaving Elysia.

  Over the years, the four of them had discussed what it would be like to experience her in human form. Back home—in Elysia—there were a different set of rules. She was their Queen, their General. And they, her Chosen. The bonds they shared far exceeded the bonds experienced by mortals. They would lay down their existences for her. To protect that which she cherished most: Earth.

  Before meeting Terra, he’d likened their bond to that of a mother and child. After all, she was Gaia: Goddess of Earth. Keeper of Spirit. But after spending so long waiting for her—missing her light and divinity—living amongst the humans, he knew it wasn’t going to be so straightforward. Here, on Earth, their loyalty and allegiance and servitude to Gaia, their absolute devotion to her, was embodied in love.

  They loved her.

  He realized that now. But what they didn’t know was whether she would return their affections. Terra felt the ancient bonds of their connection. But she didn’t understand it. And there were bigger issues afoot. The very reason she fell from Elysia in the first place.

  For Gaia was here to save Earth, and she’d given the divine order no one was to stop her.

  Even if she paid the ultimate sacrifice.

  Thank you for reading Cursed: The Gaia Chronicles #1

  Terra’s story continues in Coveted, available on all major platforms.

  Author’s Note

  About three years ago, I picked up a book called Introductions (by the amazing CL Stone) and fell in love with a girl called Sang and her group of strong, loyal, and brave boys. At the time, I had no idea what reverse harem was. But it didn’t matter. I fell in love with Sang’s unconventional story and found myself rooting for her and each of the boys (especially North!)

  I never planned on writing a reverse harem story. But then, I never planned on writing a story about a half-demon teenager unable to fall in love, or a story set in a Complex in outer space where humans and metas cohabited all in the name of research. But the more I write extraordinary characters and their unique journeys to love, the more stories pop into my head.

  So thank you for taking a chance on my book in a sea of so many others. I hope you enjoyed it enough to stick around for the ride!

  Grace xo

  Also By Grace White

  The Gaia Chronicles

  Cursed

  Coveted

  Caged

  Crowned

  Devil’s Gate

  The Vessel: A prequel novella

  Blood Lust

  The Lilituria Prophecy

  Awaken

  Allure

  Ascension

  The Complex Series

  Alora’s Choice

  Multi-Author Box Sets

  Of Fire and Ice, available exclusively in Once Upon A Rebel Fairytale

  The Last Mystic, available exclusively in Rite to Reign

  About the Author

  Grace White is the paranormal pseudonym of romance writer, L A Cotton.

  She resides in the UK with her family, and lives for binge watching series on her Firestick, losing herself in a good book, and reliving her younger days through trashy teenage movies ... not necessarily in that order.

  For all the latest news, you can follow Grace at:

  www.facebook.com/GraceWhiteAuthor

  www.instagram.com/authorgracewhite

  Sign up to receive Grace’s newsletter HERE and receive three free eBooks

  Or email her at:

  authorgracewhite@outlook.com

  War of Fangs

  The Unseen War Book #1

  L.A. Boruff

  Blurb

  Five years of nothing…

  Riley Effler lived with the pain of loss every second of every day. When her husband and children disappeared without a trace, she eventually resigned herself to the idea that they were gone, that they were never coming back. It was the knowledge that she’d never know why or how that ate her alive on the dark nights filled with emptiness.

  A mysterious man at the door…

  Claiming the be FBI with answers she didn’t dare dream she would ever get, a deadly man throws Riley into a world where secrets she couldn’t fathom explode into the light. As chaos abounds, Riley will discover there is more strength inside her than she ever imagined, more truth in her heritage than had ever been explained, and that she is more than enough woman to take on the new men thrown into her life and the danger they bring with them.

  The truth will set her free…or end them all.

  *Please note, The Unseen Series is a polyamorous love story featuring a strong woman, danger at every corner, and adult themes written for an adult audience. You might want to have a fan ready to cool yourself down when you read this…or not. You were warned.*

  For Wayne

  Prologue

  Though my boys were not fans of my favorite TV show, they’d be excited, knowing how much I loved it. I struggled to hold my keys and coffee in one hand and my cell phone in the other as I carried the painting of a blue telephone box into the house.

  “Boys? Michael? David? Where are you guys?” I dumped everything but my coffee onto the bookshelf by the front door of our small, silent home.

  “Danny, baby? Come see Mommy. You guys better not be napping this late! Daniel will be awake all night and I’ve got a long shift tomorrow.” I bounded upstairs to check the bedrooms and found the second story empty and far too tidy. My breathing accelerated, mother’s intuition kicking in. Something was wrong. Clothes, books, and shoes should’ve been strewn everywhere. I walked into the boys’ room and over to their open closet. My stomach f
illed with dread as I stared at the empty hangers and shelves.

  I stared at the space in confusion. My mind wouldn’t process an empty closet. I turned and opened one of the drawers in the chest of drawers we used as a toy chest. Empty drawer after empty drawer. In a blind panic, I ran to the bedroom I shared with Michael and jerked open the closet door. The left half of the closet was empty. Running to the other closet, I discovered Michael’s collection of rare toys was gone. I turned to study the rest of the bedroom, noting the comic boxes were gone as were the free weights usually kept in front of the half-empty bookcase. Breathing became difficult as I panicked.

  I called the police as I tore down the stairs, searching for any sign of where they might’ve gone. The operator answered just as I opened the door to the coat closet in the living room, where we stored the family’s bulky winter coats. Only my coats were there. They looked lonely.

  “911, what’s your emergency?” A smooth baritone voice answered my call.

  “My husband and children are gone! It’s all gone! Please help me. I don’t know what to do.” I stood in the middle of the living room in hysterics, too panicked to cry. How could they have been gone? How could everything they own disappear in the span of my ten hour shift?

  “Ma’am, do you see any evidence of a break-in or anything else that would cause you to think anyone has been injured or kidnapped?” Nothing was broken or disturbed.

  All the oxygen was pulled from my body. It was clear. Michael took the children and left me. “It appears that my husband has taken the children, but he wouldn’t. He has no reason. We’re happy! He wouldn’t leave. Please, please send someone!” By the time I finished, my voice was shrill, and I was on the verge of screaming.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll get an officer over as soon as possible.” I gave the operator my address and hung up. Unable to stay inside the half-emptied house, I waited on the front porch. I ached to hug my babies, and longed to lean against my rock and protector, my soul-mate. As I waited on the police, the pain began.

  Chapter One

  I scanned the framed pictures covering the back wall of my living room with unfocused eyes. Turning my listless head, I gazed at the black screen of the large, unused television. I was empty inside, had been for about a year. At one point in my life, personal time was lost in books, movies, and bad TV—anything to escape the enormity of my lonely future. Dry air scratched my throat as I sighed for the hundredth time. Empty seconds ticked by, void of emotion. Meaningless.

  Five years, gone. In previous years, on the anniversary of the beginning of my personal hell, my day was filled with tears and drama. I’d locked myself away to lament the hand life had dealt me. This year, for the first time, I was numb. The numbness was a boon—having no emotions sure beat the pain.

  As I watched a speck of dust float in the air, a knock at the door made me jerk. The weight of existing pushed me down, but I forced myself to rise and see who was interrupting my day of empty reflection.

  My revolver was in its hiding place near my front door, so I grabbed it and tucked it into the holster always at my back. I didn’t dress without putting on my holsters. Nobody would snatch me out of my home without a fight. Not until I got answers, anyway. Once I knew the truth, I might not bother fighting. Maybe I’d be able to let go and have peace.

  Through the peephole, I saw a man—hot enough to melt gold—waiting for me to answer the door. He wore slacks, a nice shirt, and a striped tie. Salesman. I rolled my eyes. I don’t have the patience for a fucking sales pitch today. I cracked the door open without removing the chain, one hand on the reassuring grip of my gun. “Can I help you?” My voice was polite, fake. The crisp fall air tickled my cheeks as I peeked through the crack in the door.

  My body gave a small surge of hormones as a sea foam gaze met my own. In that moment, I couldn’t see any other feature on his face. I was too focused on the rarity of his eye color. Those eyes could’ve been on the face of a troll and I wouldn’t have noticed. His irises, outlined by a thin ring of forest green, caused a small blush to warm my cheeks. I shook my head as if it would clear my thoughts. I’d begun to think my sex drive disappeared with my husband.

  Huh. Maybe you’re not void of emotion after all. With that thought, my husband’s face drifted through my head, and guilt consumed me. Until life coughed up some answers for me, I could only be dead inside. How could I enjoy anything when my family was missing?

  “Ma’am, my name is Darrell Abbott.” He flipped up an FBI badge. His voice was a deep bass, and though his words were professional, his timbre was sensual. “I was assigned your cold case and would like to speak to you about your husband, Michael Effler. Is it a good time for us to talk?”

  The hair on my neck prickled as I studied his badge. It resembled the other FBI badges I’d seen over the years, but something about him set off warning bells in my mind. Well, maybe he’ll distract me. I double-checked to make sure my holster was unbuttoned, closed the door, and removed the chain. Re-opening the door, I wordlessly stepped aside so he could come in. I pointed to a recliner where Agent Abbott could sit.

  I took a deep breath through a small sting in my chest. No one had sat in that chair for five years. In the plethora of conversations with the police and FBI, I’d never allowed anyone there. Why did I motion for this man to sit in my husband’s favorite spot after all that time?

  I perched on the end of my large sectional sofa, as far away as I could sit and still remain in the room. Staring past the agent I showed very little interest, even though I was finally feeling something besides numbness.

  His shoulders were wide enough to strain the expensive material of his button-up shirt. He was built like my husband, which caused more pain to hit my heart as memories flashed before my eyes. Michael was tall, towering over my own five-eight frame. Broad and muscular, he made my then-plump body feel dainty and petite.

  Agent Abbott cleared his throat and pulled at his tie as he studied my living room. His eyes rested on the various pictures of the many fandoms my family collected over the years. Art related to literary and pop culture icons covered the wall behind me.

  The detective sat in front of a wall filled with family pictures. Sometime in my second year of hell, I printed every picture we ever took and framed them. Determined to never forget a single memory, I covered the house in pictures my son colored, fan posters and art, or treasured photos.

  “Ms. Effler, can you start at the beginning and tell me what you remember from the day your family disappeared?” Agent Abbott cleared his throat again and stared at me expectantly as he held a small voice recorder with long, thick fingers.

  Eventually, I moved my gaze from his hand to his face. I’d avoided looking directly at him and allowed myself to study his features. His eyes stood out from a tanned face with a strong jaw line. Rich mahogany hair, a good month past time for a cut, fell to right above his ears. I noted a five o’clock shadow, which added to his rugged appeal.

  “Agent Abbott, right? Darrell Abbott?” I narrowed my eyes at his mesmerizing face and my mind filled with rage. He’d exhausted my patience.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, smiling.

  I adjusted my position so I could grab my gun, one hand behind me, against the couch. “If you’d cracked my case file you’d know that my husband was an avid listener of metal music. I don’t know what kind of teenage demon hunter show you think you’re in, coming here with a bogus FBI ID and a fake name, but Darrell Abbott was the real name of Dimebag Darrell, one of my husband’s favorite guitarists.” I swung my gun out from behind me and pointed it at his face. “Explain yourself, Agent Darrell Abbott.”

  “Riley, please. I mean you no harm. I’m here to help.” His vivid eyes were wide and pleading, and I was hit with an overwhelming desire to trust him. At the same time, a splitting headache formed. It started with a jolt between my eyebrows and then my entire head throbbed to the beat of my heart.

  “Stand up slowly, whatever-your-name-is. If you mak
e any sudden movements, I will shoot you.” I stood, my head pounding. The faux agent rose, hands still in the air. The hair all over my body stood on end as I tried to watch every part of his body simultaneously.

  He spoke with a low, even voice, trying to calm me. “I’m going to turn away from you and walk to the door. I'm sorry I’ve upset you, and I want you to know I came here today with the best of intentions.” I held the gun steady in my hand as he turned and moved toward the front door.

  A shadow passed in front of my living room window, drawing my gaze. In an instant, somehow, the agent was in front of me, and my gun was in his hand. I gasped in surprise.

  It was a fraction of a damn second! How'd he move so fast?

  On the one-year anniversary of “the day,” I decided I was tired of fear. My husband and I already owned various guns, and while I was a pretty good shot, I’d begun to go to the shooting range daily to practice. Money was no longer a concern without any family to spend it on, so I’d figured I might as well blow it on bullets. I’d considered putting one of those bullets in my head, but there were too many unanswered questions. I couldn’t leave this life until I knew what happened to my family.

  I’d also started taking self-defense classes, rapidly moving into private lessons. I’d trained with the best self-defense instructors in the area. I was good. Good enough that when a large man was unexpectedly in my bubble, I reacted.