Fae Like Me: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (Selena Pierce Book 1)

by Lucy Auburn

  Fae Like Me

  Selena Pierce Book One

  Lucy Auburn

  Contents

  Get Updates

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Also by Lucy Auburn

  About the Author

  Copyright 2018 Lucy Auburn

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Cover art by Hanna James

  eBook edition

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  Thank you to all my lovely readers.

  You make writing the best profession possible.

  To keep in touch, don’t forget to check out my website:

  www.lucyauburn.com

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  Author’s Note

  Fae Like Me is the first book in a new series about Selena Pierce, a succubus struggling to find herself in a new world. It contains a reverse harem plot and mild romance between two women. I hope you enjoy!

  Chapter One

  Selena

  “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” Wrapping my arms around myself, I tried to keep out the late October chill permeating through the air. “I should just drop out, right? I’m wasting my money going to college.”

  “Stop, don’t say that!” Hip-checking me, my best friend shook her head at my dire pronouncements. “You’re gonna get through this, Selena. You just have to trust the process.”

  “The process is that I keep fucking up by changing my major.” With a sigh, I pushed my hand through my thick dark brown hair, trying to make myself look presentable—not that I could see what I looked like. “I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I? I mean, history is so not my calling. Useful, but not my calling.”

  “You’re doing the right thing,” she reassured me as we reached the front door of the house we were going to tonight. Loud music thumped through the front windows. I had no idea who lived here, but it didn’t matter—this was a house party, not a real estate transaction. “Look, just get through finals, and you’ll come back from winter break with a fresh start. In criminology. And hey, half your psychology credits will transfer anyway, right? You might even graduate before you’re fifty!”

  “Ha ha,” I muttered dryly. “Thanks for the encouragement, bestie.”

  “What else am I here for?” With a flip of her freshly relaxed hair and a wide smile, Talia stepped up to the door and knocked—loud. When no one answered, she shrugged and walked on in.

  On the other side of that door was pure, unadulterated chaos. I’d never seen so many barely legal girls with pasties on their nipples before. That was this frat’s tradition—they handed them out at their parties and gave free drinks to any girls who wear them. I tried hard not to stare, knowing I wasn’t the one they were half-naked for even if they were on display.

  Thankfully, the pasty girls filtered into another room when they heard their favorite Taylor Swift song screeching through the closed door. Talia and I exchanged a look, stepping carefully across the sticky hallway.

  “Who did you say was going to be here again?”

  “That girl from our freshman orientation, Jayla or whatever. Very blonde, very white, less perky than would be expected? She invited me on Facebook.”

  “Are you sure she meant to? I don’t recognize anyone here.”

  Talia shrugged and flashed a pearly white smile at me. “Does it matter? Let’s get some drinks and have some fun!”

  She dragged me to a bar in the back, where we exchanged the sweaty bills kept in our bra for a few cold beers. This wasn’t one of those free-for-all house parties; the frat was low on cash and looking to raise some, so drinks cost money or boobs. As always, Talia and I opted for money, because there were hundreds of phones here and the internet is forever. Better safe than sorry, especially with prospective employers checking social media for half-naked photos these days.

  Not that I’d take my clothes off and replace them with pasties anyway. The drinks here weren’t worth the loss of self-respect.

  Taking our beers towards an open spot in the back, Talia and I found some breathing room and staked out our space. As I took a long swig from the craft beer in my hand, I surveyed the room for fresh meat.

  “See anyone?” Talia asked me, scanning the room. “We came here to get you a hookup, after all.”

  “Only if there’s one worth having. You know how picky I am.”

  So far, all I spotted were the typical frat bros, and the nerdier hanger-ons who looked a little desperate and unwashed. I’d been in a hookup mood lately, ever since I broke up with my ex-boyfriend almost a year ago, but I was picky about who I went after. The typical muscle-bond pre-receding hairline guys I saw here weren’t the type to do it for me. I wanted someone a little more sophisticated, even if it was just for a night.

  Glancing over at me, Talia shook her head. “You’ve set your bar too high, girl. Go a little lower down to my level. The simpler they are, the easier it is to kick them out after.”

  I grinned at her. “Basic boys, am I right?”

  “Only the most basic for me. In fact I think I see my caveman Romeo over there. Good luck finding your elusive hipster hookup, girl.”

  She swigged her beer in one go, pushed away from our corner, and headed over to a particularly average slice of frat bro meat. I laughed at the guy’s face as Talia made her moves on him, all sultry sweetness. Then I finished my own beer and dove into the party, searching for what I needed to quench the thirst inside me.

  It didn’t used to be like this. Hell, when I started my freshman year of college, I was positively saintly. The idea of a one night stand seemed foreign to me; it was fine for others, but not my thing. But then my boyfriend, Caleb, started pulling away more and more. He gained weight, he stopped trying hard at anything, and romance took a backseat to video games and beers with his friends. By the start of our sophomore year my desire for him had dwindled to the barest flame, and he’d stopped even trying to have sex with me anymore. When he did it was gross and perfunctory, leaving me feeling dirty and less satisfied than when I’d started, like a bad appetizer.

  Caleb was shocked when I broke up with him, like he thought I’d stick around as our relationship became more and more mediocre by the second. But I w
as far past done. And as soon as I had some space from him, all I wanted was to feel wanted again. Talia was helpful in that respect; she’d broken up with her long distance boyfriend the year before and started having fun, so she showed me how. Within a few days I was back in the saddle.

  If I’d wanted a hookup then, though, it was nothing like now. The need inside me seemed to grow every semester; if I’d had a regular boyfriend I would’ve been all over him. I’d even discovered that my tastes were more... open now, something I got a reminder of when one of the pasty girls brushed up against me as I made my way through the crowd, her full breasts bare and tempting.

  I’d never had sex with a woman, but as time went by and I explored more of my sexuality, it almost felt like an inevitable thing that would happen. Why choose, after all, when some of the best parts of sex weren’t always about penises?

  The pasty girl wasn’t wearing pink flowers on her nipples for me, though. Ignoring her drunken presence, I searched for a new place to go, thoroughly done with the packed main room. There was a hallway off from the room; ducking into it, I found an open door set into the wall. There were noises coming from the door. Something inside me came to life with hunger at the noises, but it wasn’t until I pushed the door open and walked in that realized why.

  On the other end of the door was a small bedroom, messy with dirty clothes on the floor, a single bed in the middle. Two people were going at it in the middle of the bed. A tall, muscular man had a woman pressed beneath him, thrusting into her again and again. She moaned, high-pitched and soft, as he grabbed her hands and held them above her head to push inside her.

  I froze in place as the door creaked all the way open. They both turned to look at me, but instead of disgust or horror their faces were lit with curiosity. The girl’s breasts were visible as the man turned his body to look at me; her dress was pulled down to her waist, barely covering a thing. He was also half-clothed, his shirt off but his pants still clinging to his legs.

  “Come on in,” she said, staring at me with bright blue eyes. “See, Jack? I told you leaving the door open was a good idea.”

  Glancing down at her, Jack said, “Oh shit, really? You would let me?”

  In answer, she clamped her thighs around him and called out to me again, “Come here, beautiful. I want to see you touch my man.”

  The dark and hungry thing inside me roared to life. Walking in, I pushed the door shut behind me, my heart pounding a staccato rhythm. Jack reached out and grabbed me as I approached the bed, still inside his girlfriend as he pulled me to him and pushed his hands up my shirt and onto my skin.

  I kissed him roughly, pressing towards him with that hunger that had turned me into a new woman in the past few years. He tasted like stale cigarettes, but I didn’t care. When his hands hesitated near my bra I grabbed them and pushed them up beneath it to tweak my nipples.

  “Holy shit,” his girl said, her voice high-pitched and breathy. “That’s so hot.”

  Grabbing the back of Jack’s head, I pushed my tongue deep inside his mouth and grabbed one of his hands. Pulling it off my breast, I put it between my legs and clamped down on it. His thick, rough fingers pushed past my shorts and against my bare skin, clumsily touching me.

  It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was enough. I pushed against his fumbling digits, drinking deeply of his kiss. His energy poured out of him and into me. I felt it as he thrust himself into his girlfriend and moaned into my mouth, his fingers penetrating me. I was so wet from the filthiness of it all; more than anything, I wanted to pull my shorts off and climb onto them, pressing myself at the spot where they met as they fucked each other.

  But before I could Jack made a pained noise and pulled away. He stared at me, and I stumbled back in shock as I realized that there was blood dribbling from a corner of his mouth. I hadn’t bit him—I didn’t remember doing that. But I must have, if he was bleeding.

  And that wasn’t the only thing about him that was wrong; there was a thin streak of grey hair at his temple.

  “What the hell?” he said, pressing a hand to his bloody mouth. “That’s fucked up.”

  Whining, his girlfriend asked, “Why’d you go soft, babe?”

  “She—she bit me.”

  “I didn’t,” I swore, my hands reaching for the door. “I’m sorry, I guess I just—I don’t know what happened. This was a bad idea.”

  Stumbling out of the hallway, I returned to the main room in a daze. Talia was nowhere in sight, so I pulled a few bills from my bra and grabbed a couple of shots, downing them both. I had no idea what had happened in there, but I knew that I didn’t want a repeat.

  I wasn’t done with tonight, though. Jack’s clumsy, inexpert fingers inside me had only awakened the part of me that wanted more. Forget my standards; I needed something, anything, to fill what was yawning inside me fast.

  I wanted to forget what had just happened, and only alcohol and sex could to that. My eyes scanned the crowd like a predator, skimming over the half-forgotten faces of men I’d already slept with and found wanting.

  That was when I saw something new. A dark-haired figure in the corner, drawing me forward. She pushed through a door towards what must have been another room. Hoping that the other side of this door would be less disappointing than the room I’d just been in, I quickly followed her. Because that hunger inside me had turned into a full-blown need—and if I knew anything about myself, it was that I had to feed it soon or I would go mad.

  On the other side of the door was an unlit hallway, surprisingly quiet despite the speakers blaring just outside. Ahead of me the mysterious figure was pushing through another door into a larger room; I followed, desperately curious to see what was on the other side. My fingers trailed against the wall to the right of me as I made my way towards the glow of light that seeped in from the other side of that door.

  Pushing it open, I walked in and was greeted by one of the largest and most expensive-looking offices I’d seen in my life. Floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves were built into the other three walls—and the ceiling was very tall. Every single one of the shelves was filled with hardcover books, many of them quite old looking.

  In the middle of the wide, plushly-carpeted floor there was a pool table, an oversized desk, and a beautiful bar set into one of the shelves. Unlike the bar just outside, which had been a vinyl folding table with a half-drunk frat bro standing behind it, this bar screamed class and money.

  Standing in the midst of it all, her fingers brushing against the billiard cloth as she leaned against the pool table, was one of the most gorgeous women I’d ever seen in my lifetime. She had dark long hair, almost as thick as mine and braided back at the sides to make her look like a wild warrior woman. Pale, even skin was revealed beneath the halter sleeves of her dark dress, which clung to muscular curves. The planes of her shoulders were dense and angular, suggesting she trained her body for athleticism, and the dark smokey makeup that circled her eyes only emphasized the gold in their coffee brown.

  My intrigue at the sight of her only confirmed what the pasty girls and encounter with Jack’s girlfriend whispered to me: I could be attracted to a woman, if the night was right. And this one didn’t look like she had rough, clumsy fingers that didn’t know where to go or what to do.

  Glancing up at me, she spoke with a sultry voice. “You don’t live here, do you? If you do, I was just looking for a restroom. If you don’t, keep it to yourself. I think they kept this room off limits for a reason.”

  “I can see why.” Drawn to her, I walked over to where she stood and glanced down at the green of the pool table like it held some fascinating secret I’d never heard before. “Do you play?”

  “Only when there’s money involved.” She glanced over at me. “Is there money involved?”

  In my head, I counted the bills in my bra and had the feeling they wouldn’t impress a woman like this one. “I can’t say that I’m much of a gambler, to be honest.”

  “Ah well. There are other things
here that interest me.” Walking over to the bar, she crouched and looked through the cabinets just beneath. “A well-stocked shelf. They won’t miss a little of... ah. This will be perfect.”

  Flipping her hair behind her shoulders, she stood in front of the bar with the bottle of dark liquor in one hand and got to work. While she was doing that, I busied myself by walking along the bookshelves and reading the spines of the books here. So many of them were unfamiliar to me; some, like classic works of Russian literature, I’d at least heard of. But many others were strange: The Mysterium of the Musee D’Orsay, Beneath the Streets of Paris: A Retrospective in One Man’s Search for Death’s Meaning, Cold Iron and Other Threats to the Fae Way of Life.

  The last one I stared out, its spine singing to me. When I placed a hesitant finger along the golden words printed on old leather, I felt like they were curling around me and whispering to my soul. Who would have strange books like this, and why? Most of them seemed to be the work of fanatics obsessed with myths and legends. The “fae” was short for faerie, I knew, and just another way of talking about legends from the Old World, when Europe was full of superstition and lore.

  “Here you go.” The mysterious woman pulled my attention back to her. Holding up two glasses filled with dark liquid, she handed one to me. “It’s an old family recipe. I made it just for you.”