Distant Light: An Urban Fantasy Reverse Harem (Tales From the Edge Book 1)

by Chloe Adler

  My sisters, my mother, the guys, anyone would label me naive, but I know in my bones that Nolan would never hurt me. But the thing that stands in front of me now is not the rogue vampire. It’s his puppet master.

  “Release Nolan,” I command, head held high, shoulders squared.

  “In exchange for you? Gladly. Give yourself to me, Iphigenia.” The way he hisses my name claws all the air out of my lungs. Like I’m a drowning rat in a sea of rats, listening to the sounds of their shrieks, my own shrieks, in the darkness. The sound of claws scraping along a metal wall, scrabbling for purchase. The terrified hisses and writhing bodies flailing against one another, the weak used as life rafts.

  “How do I know y-you?” So much for sounding brave.

  Nolan’s hands grasp at my face, not quite connecting. My amulet is keeping him at bay but he’s still far too close for comfort.

  A growl snaps me out of my vision, both my head and Nolan’s spinning at once. A yard away is a lion, teeth gnashing, saliva glistening in the moonlight. The beast leaps, knocking Nolan to the ground. The lion perches on top of him, its gaping maw ready to rip out Nolan’s throat.

  “Wait!” I throw myself on top of the lion without thinking. It—he easily knocks me off, but I tumble into a crouch, muscle memory righting me before I even realize what I’m doing. The lion turns his massive head toward me and growls low in his throat. A warning.

  Standing tall, I approach the beast. “Do not hurt him.”

  The lion falters at my command. It’s one of my cops. Following me again? He roars at me, those long canines sharp and deadly. Nolan scrambles to his feet and runs off. Good.

  Mr. Lion stalks toward me, tossing his thick mane, and whipping his tail. I approach, fearless, and he lets me, eyes the color of a sunset trained on me, his majestic form radiating strength, beauty, and violence. Why, then, am I not afraid?

  I reach a hand out, and he stands statue-still, awaiting my touch. I hold my hand under his nose but instead of sniffing it, he turns and rubs his head against it. Scratching behind his ear, I want to be mad and yell at him but his fur is so soft and my nose pricks with the scents of lavender and fresh rain. Caspian. This must be his large shift. The scent is intoxicating and I fist his fur and bury my nose in his mane.

  A woman’s loud shriek breaks the moment.

  “Oh my god, no, girl! Don’t move, I’ll get a gun.” A door away, a neighbor I vaguely recognize turns and flees back inside her house. Humans. You’d think they’d pay closer attention in their orientation meetings.

  “Run, Caspian, I’ll be fine. Burgundy is waiting for me on the next block. I’ll text her and have her pick me up.” I hold up my phone and quickly fire one off.

  But he tosses his mane at me and stays put.

  “If you get shot because of me, how will you protect me? At least hide from the nosy neighbor, will you? We can talk later about a less noticeable shift. Please?”

  Caspian licks my hand, his huge tongue rough but gentle, and pads slowly away until he’s out of sight. A moment later, the nosy neighbor returns, holding a shotgun.

  “Nothing to see here, ma’am,” I say, but she stalks closer.

  Her eyes are red rimmed and shifty. She’s having a difficult time holding them still and focusing on anything. The shotgun is propped tightly under her arm, her finger on the trigger. Her hands are clenched so tight around it that her knuckles bleed white.

  She may accidentally shoot me, or herself. Now is not the time to remind her that guns are illegal in the Edge. If I were Sadie or my mother, I could cast a spell without a ritual. Even Chrys can do it when she gets mad enough. But not me. I’m a powerful witch but only within the confines of a ritual, which in my case usually calls for a drawn circle, fire, and herbs.

  At least my amulet will physically protect me. Even if this fool squeezes the trigger, it’ll miss. I remind myself to report her weapon to Sheldon though; I do not want a trigger-happy human who doesn’t understand gun safety as a neighbor.

  “Where is that lion?”

  “Ma’am, are you okay?”

  Her eyes narrow on me, then widen, and she takes a step closer. Oh, no. It’s the same woman Nolan attacked the other night. I didn’t recognize her at first because she looks so sickly. Her face is gaunt, her skin hanging off her frame as though she’s lost a massive amount of weight. Her dark hair is limp and unwashed. But those eyes . . .

  Those are the eyes of a hungry vampire.

  Not possible, I assure myself. Vampires are born, not made. That’s an old yarn humans spun to scare their children. Her sunken red eyes fix on me and before I can scream, she’s in front of me, gnashing her . . . fangs? Again my amulet keeps her from even touching me, but her grinding maw is inches from my face. A bad evening indeed.

  With the speed of a vampire, Caspian zooms in and shoves her away from me. Her shotgun goes off and he yelps.

  “Caspian!” I lunge for him but he retreats into the bushes. The world grows silent as time moves in slow motion.

  “Iphigenia?” Burgundy’s voice pierces the air, righting time.

  “Burg?” I whirl toward her voice but she’s already on top of the neighbor, pinning her against a tree.

  “Redire domum protinus momoria factum est,” I spit out in utter panic, waving my hand in front of the neighbor’s face and then backing away.

  Nothing happens. The woman writhes and hisses under Burgundy and I’m about to run for help when my vampire friend sinks her teeth into the woman, dispersing one of the many hormone cocktails at her disposal, no doubt.

  Burg releases the woman, who turns as though in a trance and returns to her house, closing the door behind her.

  “What was that?” Burg asks, looking around. “Why would a vampire attack you? And was the lion one of your men?”

  I nod. “The lion was Caspian. But the vampire, she was turned by the rogue that I told you about. I need to find out if Caspian was shot.”

  “What do you mean, ‘turned’? Let’s get to my car, you can call from there. And explain.”

  “Thank you.” My voice is shaky, just like me. I climb into the passenger seat of Cherry, Burgundy’s red 1976 Camaro, and try to relax back into the buttery black leather seat, but my entire body is trembling.

  “What are you thanking me for?” She glances at me and starts the car.

  “For agreeing to this, for being here on time, for saving my life.”

  “Hey,” she pats my shoulder, “you didn’t need saving, your amulet would have prevented any harm—or your shifter. Without me, you just would have been treed for a while.” She flashes me a fanged smile and my body relaxes a bit.

  Burgundy starts the car and I call Rhys.

  “Iphi,” he greets me warmly. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out of our dance.”

  “I’m not, but Caspian may have been shot while in his lion shift. Have you heard anything?”

  “No.” His voice is all edge now. “Let me call around and get back to you.” He hangs up.

  “Hey.” Burgundy’s voice is soft. “This may not help a lot but if he was dead or hurt badly, he wouldn’t have been able to run away. Rhys is a vampire and you know we have healing enzymes. He’ll fix Caspian up.”

  “You’re right, I’ll try not to worry.” Easier said than done. I blame myself. If he hadn’t been trying to save me, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

  “After you find out he’s fine, promise me that you’ll either call Sheldon yourself or make sure one of your men files a report for you.”

  I nod, biting the inside of my cheek.

  She puts her hand on my shoulder. “You’re shaken up. You want just a tiny little dose of my feel-good hormones?”

  I smirk. “Oxytocin? No thanks, deep breathing is better for me.” I take in some air, holding it in my lungs for a beat before letting it out slowly.

  “This is probably the wrong time and overstating the obvious but try to enjoy yourself tonight. You’ve done so much for everyone else, yo
ur entire life, me included. This is your time. And you deserve it.”

  “What have I ever done for you?” I watch the scenery fly by out the window, lulled by the tranquility of the dark water.

  “You listened to my family drama and helped sort out the mess I made with Elijah and Tiyah. You listened without judgment, more than anyone else did. The least I can do is give back.”

  I did listen when she was hurting, but that’s what friends are supposed to do. Of course, she didn’t know that I could feel her pain as though it were my own. I hold the space people need to lament and offer my ear and solace without judgment. Isn’t that what every decent person should do? Simple consideration for others as opposed to putting oneself first.

  As the car speeds down the highway, I loll my head out the window like a dog, tasting the wind on my tongue, no longer caring about mussed curls. There are much more important things in life. Like Caspian’s well-being.

  My phone pings with a text from Rhys. Caspian will be fine, not to worry. The rest of us will be a little late to Promise, but we’ll be there. Wait for us?

  I let out a long breath, and for the first time since I got into the car, my body slumps back in the seat.

  “Good news?” Burgundy asks.

  “Caspian’s going to be okay.”

  “No more worrying then.” She throws me a smile. “Now it’s your time.”

  “My time?”

  “Yeah. Tonight is your time for exploration and fun!”

  The parking lot next to the boardwalk is full, and my heart races again. Thump, thump, thump. I can actually hear it over the deafening silence. Please, please, please don’t let all of these people be at Promise. It’ll be difficult enough for me to try and dance in public but even harder if the place is packed. Or maybe with more people I’ll blend in. My feet are firmly planted in place, but Burgundy takes my hand, practically dragging me down the pier.

  “This is not a death sentence.” Her laughter sails along the warm summer breeze. “I promise you’ll have fun at Promise.”

  I snort and follow her inside the dimly lit structure. I’ve never been inside the dance club before but I’ve heard a lot about it. And yet the picture in my mind is nothing like the actual scene. We deposit our shoes by the door and I find myself disappointed that I can’t dance in them, or at least wear them to gain a few inches.

  The dance floor is full of people, all moving about in different ways. There’s a DJ at a table to the left, at the far end of the room. Immediately inside the door, after the shoe repository, people are sitting or stretching atop blue gym mats. Some are even doing yoga. Okay, I can get into that. On the far end of the dance floor, directly across from the entrance, is a raised stage with people lying about or sitting and talking. There’s a light show on the far wall that mesmerizes me.

  Burg taps my shoulder and points up to the ceiling. Following her hand, my head falling back on my neck, I’m amazed to see another light show overhead. It’s almost dizzying, the techno beats and the lights. The swirling dancers in yoga pants and bra tops. She grabs my hand and leads me into the crowd. There’s no time for fear or trepidation. If I were to pick the perfect place to let myself go without the dread of possible judgment, this would be it.

  “Follow me,” she says into my ear and takes both of my hands in hers.

  We whirl around in a circle together for so long that I throw my head back and laugh, but it’s swallowed up in the seething crowd. Burgundy transfers her hands to my hips, rocking them to the music. I put mine on her shoulders, keeping my eyes on her gyrations. As a stripper, she’s got the moves. But after a few minutes my body responds to the beat and I let go of my mentor. A few minutes more, and I’m dancing around her as though it’s second nature. Every time I feel self-conscious, my eyes dart around but no one is staring at me and laughing. No one is imitating me. Some dance with closed eyes. Others swirl round and round. The people here don’t seem to care what anyone else is doing or how they do it. They left their judgments at the door.

  The more time that passes, the freer I feel, letting my body move whatever way it wants.

  Soon after my mind shuts off and my body takes over, euphoria sets in. Everything falls away, replaced by fluid movements, silken flesh, and sweaty chaos. I’ve never felt this free, not even tumbling down from six stories up. Why did I let Justine Miller win all those years ago, robbing me of this outlet, this blissful escape from reality? Her human family left the Edge not long after that dance so many moons ago, but she never really left, did she? I carried her in my heart, locked up deep inside, in a place I couldn’t reach. I carried the doubt and uncertainty that she left for me. I carried that lie, from middle school until the present day. Unburdening myself of it is the exact metamorphosis I needed to transcend.

  And, oh, how I soar. “Thank you, Rhys,” I whisper.

  Oblivious of my surroundings, I spin in circles, laughter bubbling up from the deepest and darkest places of my soul. Arms circle my waist, lifting me up and up, toward the ceiling. Enjoying Burgundy’s vampire strength, I hold my arms out to the sides, twirling, eyes closed. Around and around until I’m laughing so hard tears stream down my face. As my body is lowered, my eyes flicker open and my feet touch the floor. I spin around to smile at Burg, but it isn’t Burg holding me up. It is Rhys, my fulcrum. My anchor. Thorn and Dominic throw their arms around me, too, drowning me in a ferocious hug. I throw my arms around them as well and we spin together, sparks flying madly through the night.

  Chapter Twelve

  Thorn

  Watching Iphigenia dance is like watching the sun dip below a cloudy horizon. The light this girl—this woman brings to those around her is almost too bright to watch, but she gilds everything around her in beauty and life. Her curls fan out around her in a halo as she throws herself, headlong, fearless, into a dance. She amazes me—and my brothers. They’ve all vowed to keep her safe from him and though I pretend not to care, I’m beyond gone on her as well.

  Keeping my feelings in check is my play for keeping our pack in check. Jealousy and pettiness could break us apart.

  They’ve all talked about this while I’ve sat stoically, listening. Pretending not to be attracted to her. They agreed that if she chose one of them, the others would respect her choice. I just hope it is one of them and not some undeserving asshole outside of our pack.

  I want it to be me, but there’s no way it will be. I haven’t shown the slightest bit of interest. If anything, she probably thinks I don’t even like her. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. And if she knew I’d developed feelings for her, she’d run as fast as possible to the other side of the Edge. Just like every other woman I’ve let get close to me in the past. And that was without any of them knowing what I’m capable of.

  Iphigenia’s smile and laughter pull me up from my darkness. That angry black hole where my killer lives. She whites out the haunting visions of a blackened corpse, her bubbly personality dousing my memories, my anger, my fire. I want more. I want to touch her. She hasn’t chosen any of them yet and if I don’t make at least one play, I’ll have no one to blame but myself.

  So when Rhys approaches her on the dance floor, I don’t stop myself. I cut in front of him. It’s a dick move but I don’t care. Grasping her waist, I lift her high and spin her. Around and around, watching her fly, that flaxen hair billowing through the air.

  The bodies around us move to the rhythm. Beautiful women and men clutch one another or dance alone, their bodies slick with sweat. A feast for the eyes. One girl removes her top and throws it high in the air, big tits bouncing, and still, I’m not interested. I only have eyes for Iphi, even if she doesn’t know it, and I’m glad she’s not showing the club her goods. But I beat back the caveman routine. Such small-minded thoughts have no place here.

  The surge of protectiveness is hard to suppress, though, hardwired in me as it is. I’m not proud of what I had to do to make sure our pack survived, but we all do what we have to, especially when
we don’t know how to do anything else. Too late for me, I now know there are other ways. Iphi is the youngest of her clan yet she’s the fierce protector of her two older sisters and even her mother, and she does it with kindness, hope, and acceptance. Clan first. Pack first. Family first.

  “How long have you all been here?” Iphi’s breath tickles my ear. Her scent, even in a room filled with the stench of sweat, perfume, and Lycra, wafts up like lilacs on a fresh summer breeze.

  “Long enough to watch you dance.”

  She blushes, turning to run away. Dominic catches her easily, his arms circling her tiny waist as he spins her to Rhys, who spins her back to me. We dance like this for a while, each of us taking a turn, each of us spinning her to the next.

  Maybe it’s like spin the bottle and she’ll stop on one of us when she chooses. But who will it be?

  “Hey, handsome,” Burgundy growls in my ear. The beautiful vampire is swaying her voluptuous hips and tossing her thick dark hair, trying to entice me to dance with her. “There’s only one Iphi and three of you. Surely I can have one for a dance?”

  Burgundy and I are not friends but we know of each other. I’ve gone diving with her lovers, and we’re friends in that way only people who’ve faced danger together can be. Itching for adventure, I booked them for a dive in Ginnie Springs, Florida. There’s a labyrinth of caves there, most of them named after the devil. In this ghastly vortex in Devil’s Ear, I forged the way ahead while Tiyah had to hold on to Elijah. Something I’ve never let them live down.

  Burgundy seems cool, but— “I’m here to dance with Iphigenia.”

  “Suit yourself.” She smiles. “I can’t say I blame you. That girl is a ball of light.”

  “In a pitch-black night,” I add.

  Burgundy rolls her eyes, then leans in. “Just don’t hurt her. Any of you. Or I’ll have to kill you.” And with that, she dances away.

  If anyone hurts her, I will kill them, I want to scream over the music.