Destruction of Two: A Reverse Harem Series (Origins of the Six Book 3)

by A. K. Koonce

  Finally.

  “I mean, why are you mimicking Malek like you’re his biggest fan?” I whisper.

  He leans in to feel my words coating his lips.

  “I’m not.” His lips ghost mine.

  “Lies,” I tell him.

  The rumbling laughter that shakes through him and along my mouth is an addicting taste that I want to feel on a deeper level. Lean hips shift against mine and I slowly part my legs to feel him fully against my core.

  His lips barely brush mine, his tongue almost skims the seam of my mouth.

  Then the distinct sound of a belt clattering against the ground demands our attention. Malek drops his jeans and pushes out of his boxer briefs without warning.

  Saint is to his fucking feet in a flash of a second.

  “You really are my idol now,” Saint murmurs as he too shoves down his pants and underwear at once, no questions asked.

  I swear he just wants an excuse to be naked at all hours of the day.

  But one person does seem to have a bit of logic wandering around their head.

  “Wait, why are we taking our pants off?” Syko looks hesitantly to me fully clothed, to the two men already tossing their jeans in the dirt.

  “Wolves like to be natural. In packs we often discard our clothes to shift at will. Unlike some people we actually have a reason to be nude.” Malek glances at the vampire at his side with a look that’s sort of disdainful.

  “I’m part of your pack now?” Saint asks with a weird shining light of excitement in his gaze. He has a giddy energy thrumming through him. I can’t help but wonder if he got high this morning, if vampires can even get high. He’s acting more hyper than usual.

  Something is definitely off with them today.

  “You are definitely not part of my pack,” Malek replies with a curl of his lips.

  “Don’t be an asshole.” Phoenix strides towards Saint and Malek and I’m so damn confused by all of this. Since when does Phoenix tell anyone to stop being an asshole? “We can be part of your circle without being your… pack.”

  What twilight zone did I fall into?

  Seriously, what the am-I-in-a-different-dimension-again fuck?

  Syko’s steady hands lower to his hips and I watch him with big eyes as he starts to unbutton his jeans like an angelic porno come to life. Oh yes, sin for me, nephilim, a dark part of me wants to purr.

  “What is going on here!” I stand finally, facing my semi-nude audience.

  Malek glares. Saint shrugs. Phoenix lifts his palms up in a gesture of false innocence.

  “We’re trying to get Malek to like us,” Syko blurts as he kicks out of his jeans and I almost forget what we’re even talking about when I notice his smooth cock jutting up toward his navel.

  Focus. Stay focused, Izara.

  “I like you just fine,” Malek almost yells at Syko.

  “What about me?” Saint asks.

  Silence. Dead silence.

  And then it hits me. They’re trying to forge a friendship for me.

  Oh. My. God.

  They have no idea how to make real friends. My heart pounds with warmth searing through my chest at how fucking cute and pathetic this all is. More pathetic than cute, actually.

  “You know showing each other your dicks probably isn’t the best way to make friends,” I whisper with a smile.

  “I don’t know, it worked for me and Phoenix,” Saint says under his breath and the demon shoves at his friend’s bare shoulder until all four of them are smirking.

  The day passes like that until the sun fades behind the horizon. Quiet taunting will always sting the air where these four are concerned, but they do seem like friends now. Almost like a pack. And when I finally convince them to wear a small amount of clothing, I relax around them too without any distractions. My sanity couldn’t handle all the force of their jutting cocks. Seriously.

  The heat of the flickering flames dances shadows along Malek’s handsome face. I lie on my back with my head in his lap as his fingers diligently play with my long hair. Predatory eyes pass over my face as laughter rings around us and I’m reminded how different he was that night under the full moon.

  Does he try harder to be in control because he has none when the moon is overflowing?

  “Whose leg did you accidentally hump to get thrown into the Academy of Six, Pooch?” Saint nudges Malek’s arm and the small circle quiets as the werewolf looks up at them with regret and tainted sadness in his gaze.

  Silence catches in the cool night breeze.

  “Tell me what you did and I’ll tell you what I did.” Syko’s whispered words pull at my attention and I stare at him for a long time, the fire reflecting in those inkwell eyes of his.

  I always assumed Syko came voluntarily because of Kayos.

  The terror in his gaze right now doesn’t look as innocent as everyone always believes him to be. It’s a fear of who you are that’s pulling at his features. It’s a look I know all too well.

  “My stepfather was alpha of our pack. He earned that title by ripping out the throat of my father when he became too reckless during a full moon one Halloween night.”

  A chill slithers across my skin at the even tone his twisted story is spoken in.

  “My father was always a push and pull of control. And my stepfather saw that in me since I was a pup. So he made it his job to beat the discord from my blood. Every full moon I’d be leashed. The Change would wrack through my bones with breaking intensity and chains would hold me in place until it passed with agonizing slowness.” The flicking accent of Malek’s words is a haunting sound that matches his lost, dark eyes eerily.

  “Shit,” Syko whispers on an echoing exhale.

  “When you cage a beast, it doesn’t alter the creature’s instincts. It enraged my wolf. Month after month for years, deadly fury built within me. Until my body became too strong. The chain too rusted. My stepfather too arrogant. And too slow to escape the beast he’d created.” Malek’s looking intently at me but I don’t know if he sees me at all.

  I catch his wrist from my hair and push my fingers through his until his dark eyebrows rise and he blinks down at me slowly. My lips press to his knuckles and I’ve never felt so protective over someone so strong before. A pressing sensation bears down on my heart before it beats furiously harder. Faster.

  What is that?

  A smile tips the corner of Malek’s lips and I just know.

  It’s a bond. A mating bond. Our mating bond.

  My breath catches.

  I’m his mate. I know he’s said that. He said it that very first time beneath the pale moonlight but I never really understood it until now. At the time, it just felt like dominating lust when he said it. Something fervent like I need you, I want you.

  It isn’t like that at all. It is, and it isn’t all at the same time.

  I do need him. I need him like I need the blood pulsing through my veins.

  Does it feel that way for him too?

  I swallow hard and it feels too naive to ask him outright.

  And luckily, the topic it changed.

  “What about you? Did you forget to say thank you or please and they chucked your angelic ass in here before you got ‘really bad’?” Saint sends a carving smirk Syko’s way but the nephilim’s dark eyes hold no amusement.

  “Nephilim are the rare half-breed children of angels.” The emptiness in his gaze matches his tone and it hurts to hear. “Some have too much of the heavens in their blood. Kayos has too much. Whereas my grandfather had almost none. He was the most selfless man I ever met though. When we were little, he took us in after the accident. He swept the mess of what happened to our parents under the rug and protected Kayos from the blood she had on her hands.”

  A crawling sensation slinks over my skin. The blood on her hands.

  The pent up breath he seems to be holding in forces from his lips and he looks away from the seriousness passing within our circle of friends.

  I can’t tell if he’s
going to finish his story or not.

  “Did she kill him too?” Malek asks, voice as smooth as stone.

  All attention holds on Syko. He shakes his head solemnly slow.

  “I did.” Syko’s lips stay parted but no other words follow his admission. His gaze never leaves the heart of the fire that’s searing bright white.

  Maybe it was an accident or maybe it wasn’t.

  He doesn’t have to explain. The only reason he’d ever do something so dark would be to protect someone he loves. And he still protects Kayos.

  He always will.

  Slowly I push myself up from the grounds. The heat of the flames kiss my skin when I pass by. Before I lower myself down in front of him, he stands abruptly. Sweaty palm brush over my knuckles as he holds our hands between us.

  “Don’t pity me, Izara.” I stare up at the sweetest man I’ve ever known and I don’t know what to say to him. “Don’t ever pity someone for the choices they consciously make.”

  His words flash Shade’s offer through my mind, dropping a gnawing sensation right through my stomach. I shove aside the things I too should be confessing and instead tip my chin up to skim my lips along his.

  “Tell me what to say then. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

  A hint of a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.

  “Actually, you can extend your wings. As far as they’ll go,” he instructs.

  My brow scrunches and it only causes him to smirk even more.

  “Yesterday I overheard Professor Ravenstorm telling the headmaster you have the widest wingspan in the academy.”

  Still, I look up at him with confusion.

  Phoenix stands though and the sight of his smile is almost alarming and unnatural. “Aww, is your ego bruised that your girlfriend might be packing a larger span than you?”

  Syko rolls his pitch black eyes but when all four of them surround me, I can tell this is actually a real thing.

  “You really want to compare? Really?”

  “Oh let it go, Syko. I’m sure yours are average.” Saint claps the nephilim on the shoulder with the most antagonizing smirk. “I’m told size isn’t really important anyway. The motion of the ocean and all that. Although tiny wings won’t catch much of an ocean breeze, will they?”

  Syko’s elbow comes back swiftly and before I even see the blow Saint is holding his stomach, groaning with pain and laughter shaking through his body.

  I cannot believe we’re having this conversation right now.

  My eyebrow arches but he just waits for me to show him what I’m working with.

  Jesus my men are incredibly petty.

  “Take your shirt off,” I say, my palms pushing to my hips as I pretend this is actually a topic of importance.

  His white teeth sink into his lower lip and my facade of self assuredness goes right out the wind when he reaches for the back of his shirt and makes slow work of dragging his white shirt up every hard inch of ab he possesses.

  The shirt is tossed and forgotten in the dirt like my ability to think.

  Deep down, I know this is all just a distraction to pull us out of the memories of our dark pasts. Maybe that’s what I like about this absurd predicament.

  Or maybe it’s just his ability to find that charming smile when life gives him nothing at all to smile about.

  Smoldering dark eyes are heavy against me but I square my shoulders, and then I too pull off my academy tee shirt. I stand in a black lace bra that has me instantly aware of how cool the night air is. His eyebrows lift. Someone clears their throat. Nothing but the stir of our breaths are whispered between us.

  Until the sound of skin shredding rips away my confidence. Blood drips to the ground, sliding down Syko’s broad shoulders. He never once flinches but every muscle in his body flexes as his wings extend to their full length. With crimson staining his skin, his body rigid and glistening with sweat, he’s never looked so big before. He’s an intimidating beast, all sinister beauty and alluring destruction.

  With a single step his bare chest is brushing mine, pebbling my nipples beneath the thin lace.

  “Your turn,” he whispers challengingly.

  This is so ridiculous. I cannot believe I’m comparing wing size right now.

  I also cannot believe I’m petty enough to trash talk him before I do it.

  “You’re not going to cry when you lose, will you?” My lips give a taunting pout and a bout of puppy dog eyes that have him shaking his head at me with a smile.

  Saint’s snickering laughter hums through the night.

  “Get on with it, Castillo,” is Syko’s only reply.

  And so I do.

  My shoulder blades shift. Strong tendons stretch in the cool night air as I slowly lift my heavy wings. The tips of them shine in the darkness from a few feet away from my body and I’m just now aware of how much space they truly take up. I can’t even see Malek standing just behind me.

  Syko’s gaze skims along my neck, my breasts, my stomach and then finally he remembers what he’s actually supposed to be inspecting.

  His fingertips lightly graze the leather curve of my left wing in a way that sends a shiver down my spine.

  “I think you fall short,” he tells me and I roll my eyes.

  My palm settles flat against his stomach and I take my time drifting up to his heart. My pulse speeds when I see him swallow slowly.

  Malek’s fingers brush across the ends of my wings, his head tilting as he looks at my dark wing and then Syko’s glowing, white feathers. He shakes his head this way and that, as if this is a real competition that’s going by the Official WingSpan books and such.

  “He has you beat by about one feather, mi corazón.”

  My lips screw up on my face and there’s a single second that I feel like I came in last.

  Then warm lips press along my neck, teeth lightly racking against my skin just as cold fingers push firmly over my navel. “I like your little wings actually,” Saint whispers, sending shivers across my skin.

  “They are not little.” Oh my god, why am I having this conversation and why am I put off by the fact that I lost?

  My simmering annoyance slips away like a lost thought the moment his hands push higher, his palm sneaking beneath my bra and palming my breast before I can even remember to breathe again. When I do, my gasp catching momentarily, warm lips press slowly to mine.

  My wings slowly pull in tightly against my back and the measuring and taunting humor falls away.

  Syko takes his time flicking his tongue along mine, his fingers skimming my sides like a whisper across my skin in the most teasing, tormenting way.

  And then Saint’s touch abruptly pulls away, my feet stumbling without his support behind me. Syko and I both look up as Saint shoves Malek into the place he was just occupying, all but showing him where his hands should grope against my skin. Malek holds my hips, but the werewolf is just as confused as I am.

  “Where are you going?” I ask the vampire on a breathless tone.

  Saint’s gaze sweeps over the shadowy trees but when he glances my way, he’s all false smiles and addicting personality. “I’ll be right back. Be ready for me,” he whispers with the sinful glint in his eyes.

  I don’t like it. I don’t like his strange behavior one bit.

  Syko watches him with narrowed eyes, seemingly having the exact same thoughts as I am. His dark eyes look down at me before watching the vampire be absorbed by the shadows of the night.

  He steps back, his hands slowly falling away. “I’ll be right back,” he says and I nod to him like we’re agreeing.

  “Make sure he’s safe.” I squeeze his hand once before he disappears just as Saint did.

  Phoenix slides his calloused hands across my hips, just above Malek’s. Closer he pulls me but he doesn’t tear me away from the man behind me. He’s… sharing in a way.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Phoenix says on the quietest rasping tone that sends a zing of desire straight to my core. He’s in t
otal incubus mode, his voice carrying that heavy tinge of desperate wanting that he pulses into me. His mouth is warm against my jaw as he makes me all the promises in the world. “He’s stronger than he lets people believe. He’s also smarter than he allows anyone to realize.” Sharp teeth drag across my flesh and my core tightens just from his touch alone.

  Phoenix has the alluring ability of distraction. Complete sexual distraction. And he’s using it fully now. The magic swirling around him is a bit overwhelming, and all too welcoming. I feel like I’ll come with just a touch alone.

  I used to think I affected him the way he did me because of destiny or fate or fairytale love that humans recite nonstop to their children.

  Now I know though. As much as I’d love to believe love has everything to do with it, it’s power that sways our bodies together. The hellacious magic within me is the source that brings him to life. And I never realized it until I found myself thriving at the center of more power than I’ve ever imagined.

  “Take off your shorts,” he demands, shoving at the thin material at my hips.

  Before I even reply, Malek’s big hands thrust down my sides, letting the cool air hit my flesh fully. My shorts drop around my feet. My fluttering lashes never fully open before a warm breath is between my legs. Sharp nails dig into my hips as Malek bends my body forward in a raw, primitive position the way I know he likes. My hips arch in the air as I fold forward, still clutching onto Phoenix.

  It’s the last thing I expect from him, but I feel the scrape of his big palm slide down my skin as he drops to his knees behind me, and then the flat of his tongue laps against my folds, swirling along my clit. The moan that slips from my lips is silenced by Phoenix’s slow chaste kisses. The incubus’s fingers make slow work skimming a scorching path down my abdomen, across my hip bones and then ever so slowly, he pushes over my clit. Malek’s mouth slides lower in response, holding me harder as he fucks me with his tongue.

  Phoenix sucks lightly against my lower lip, his tongue flicks there before he blazes a languid trail down my neck and against my ear.

  “Turn around,” he commands in a voice like dark desire.