He froze, his gaze caught on us, our faces, then slid to my foster parents, intelligent dark eyes scanning them before he illuminated respectfully with a flicked finger at my room, “Mr. and Mrs. Manter, if you’ll give me a moment, I just need to get dressed.”
His jaw clenched, Mr. Manter asked, “Aren’t your clothes in the bathroom?”
Vance glanced into the bathroom, his lips thinning the barest bit before he turned his attention back to my foster dad, stating, “Apparently, the clothes I was wearing smell. I would like to put on a fresh set.”
A quiet snort. “You brought spares?”
Vance hesitated for only a moment. “Yes.”
My foster dad stared. “How fortunate.” He jerked his head at my bedroom. “Get dressed and get downstairs in two minutes.” With that, he ushered Mrs. Manter, who had been staring at the wall, keeping her expression utterly blank, down the hallway and stairs, glancing back at me once with a warning glance to get my ass moving.
Flicking his eyes at Vance, Adam muttered quietly, “Grab me a shirt while you’re in there.” Then he was herding me down the stairs where we followed them past their luggage by the front door, through the living room, while my foster parents’ eyes scanned every inch of their home. We stopped inside the kitchen, Mr. Manter turning on the lights, and both of their eyes snagged on the bottle of wine sitting on the bar and all the dishes—two wine glasses—in the sink. At least the bottle was still half full, which Mr. Manter did take a more thorough perusal of before he and his wife sat at the table.
Adam pulled out a chair for me across from them, which I took, still moving stiffly while watching them warily. Adam sat calmly next to me, placing his hand on my thumping leg under table, running his thumb back and forth soothingly. No one spoke while Mr. Manter glanced between his watch and the entrance to the kitchen, obviously waiting impatiently for Vance to arrive. Vance did walk into the kitchen within the two minute time frame Mr. Manter had given. Casually walking across the kitchen, he tossed a cotton t-shirt to Adam before silently taking a seat on the other side of me, clasping his hands on top of the table. The three of us waited quietly, both men now wearing shirts covering smooth, tanned flesh.
Mr. Manter evaluated each of them before his gaze skewered mine, his question simply asked, “Who are they?”
Too bad it wasn’t so simple to answer. My mouth bobbed before I cleared my throat. Brows puckered, my cheeks flushed deep crimson. “They’re…uh…” Nibbling on my bottom lip, pretty sure this was what Adam and Vance had wanted to talk with me about, the next logical step without being too serious, it just spewed out, “They’re my boyfriends.” My flush encompassed the entirety of my face.
Neither of my foster parents moved, just staring.
I cleared my throat. “It’s an alternative type of thing.”
Mrs. Manter’s posturing cracked. She leaned forward, crooking her elbows on the table to rest her mouth on her clasped fists. Her tone was a tad choked behind her hands when she voiced her questions. “Lana, honey, do you understand what you’re saying? What an alternative lifestyle is with three individuals?”
The flush on my face was alive and well. “Yes.”
Uncomfortable time ticked away, a sprinkling of perspiration damping my hands until Mr. Manter leaned forward, rubbing his forehead. From his face’s dipped position, Mr. Manter’s gaze held mine, his patience dwindling. “They’re older than you.” Not entirely a question, but it was.
“I wasn’t persuaded into this.” I waved a slightly trembling hand. “It just,” more waving of my hand, “happened.” I placed my hand back on my lap. “And they are older. Even though they’re both twenty-five, I am eighteen. It’s legal.” They didn’t need to know their real age. Couldn’t, actually.
Her tone still garbled, Mrs. Manter asked, “Is this a serious relationship?”
“Yes,” Vance answered quietly. “It’s a serious relationship.”
“It’s still in the beginning stages.” Adam patted the air, a calming gesture for everyone. “But Vance and I do care for and respect your daughter.”
I merely shrugged a stiff shoulder when my foster parents waited for my reply. “I like them. They like me. I’m not fond of them with anyone else and the feeling’s mutual. That’s where we’re at.”
Mrs. Manter sat back in a jerking move on her chair, tossing her hands at us, her tone shrill. “When the heck did this happen?”
“We met a few weeks ago. They have business with Mrs. Clover.”
Mrs. Manter’s eyes went squinty. “You met at camp?”
“It’s not like that,” I stated instantly. “They’re not counselors there. Like I said, they had other business dealings with Mrs. Clover. We just happened to meet there.”
“Does Mrs. Clover know about this?”
“Honestly, I’m eighteen. It’s none of her business what I do in my free time.”
“Answer the question.”
“Yes, she does.”
Mrs. Manter flicked a finger between Vance and Adam, sitting forward, her own cheeks flushing as she growled with dignified anger, “Is this what you two do? Go around preying on young girls at camp?”
“Whoa!” I shouted, completely affronted, slamming a hand on the table, my own expression hardening. I held Mrs. Manter’s startled gaze firmly. “That is not the case here. Vance normally lives in California. Adam in New York. Their business dealings make them work together occasionally, but this is in no way normal for either of them. It’s new. For all three of us. Half the time we get along, the other half, they’re bickering with one another. The last thing the three of us need is you calling them molesters.” Pointed jammed finger on the table, I continued, “It is not a case of older men taking advantage of a young girl. We’re testing the waters together, and it’s not entirely a smooth ride. So the accusations stop right now. Got it?”
In the quiet that descended in the kitchen, Mrs. Manter’s shocked expression turned softly cool as she relaxed back on her chair, lifting her brows silently.
My mouth snapped shut, and I sat back myself, properly put in my place by just one glance. “Sorry. It’s just…I just don’t want you thinking or saying that. It’s not correct, and it’s demoralizing. I meant no disrespect.”
Mr. Manter stared at his clasped his hands before him. “Lana, you’re still living under our roof. You have to understand why we cannot possibly allow them to stay overnight inside our home. Realistically, can we stop you from seeing them? No. But it doesn’t mean we have to agree with it or allow them overnight visits. We are the parents. We make the rules here. Not you. We don’t have to get anything.”
“Lana?” Hanna’s sleep voice called from the living room, everyone freezing before our attention snapped toward the entrance. She called even louder, sounding frightened, “Lana!”
“In the kitchen,” I replied instantly.
She appeared inside the kitchen in her footed pajamas, her brown hair a mess about her head, rubbing at her eyes in the bright glow of the kitchen. Her eyes widened when they adjusted, seeing her parents, but her gaze snagged on Vance, her lips curving in an enormous smile. Her bitty feet took off, racing across the kitchen, shouting, “Vance! Vance!”
Vance grunted quietly when she rammed right against him, yanking, and climbing up onto his lap, giving him an enormous hug. “Adam said you’d come.” My lips twitched when Vance sighed heavily, and then gave her a light squeeze in return. She leaned back, plopping both hands on either of his cheeks, reprimanding. “Lana was mad at you. She cooked dinner for all us. You missed it.”
Inside her hold, Vance glanced at me, his gaze running over my features before turning his attention back to her, stating quietly, “I know.”
She patted his cheeks. “She didn’t talk. I don’t like Lana like that.”
“I apologized.”
She nodded her head decisively. “Good. Daddy says you apologize when you do wrong.” Her grin grew, and she twisted so she was hanging on his neck by
one arm, peering at her parents stating proudly, “Mommy, Daddy, this Vance.” Abruptly, she leaned over me, making Vance grab onto her to keep her from falling. She patted Adam’s bicep. “And this Adam.” Shoving off him, she settled back onto Vance’s lap, still grinning. “They Lana’s friends. They nice.” Her brows puckered slightly. “But Adam did hurt bad man.”
My eyes widened as my gaze slipped to the side. “What is she talking about?”
Adam peeked once at Hanna with a quiet, narrowed gaze before he sat back on his chair, his expression turning angelic. “It was at the birthday party.” He waved a vague hand. “There was a man who had ahold of her hand trying to take her out a side door. She didn’t appear to want to go with him. I made sure she didn’t.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
Mrs. Manter sat forward, growling, “What?”
“Explain,” Mr. Manter rumbled quietly.
Adam’s jaw ground together, glancing between us. “He was taken care of. You have nothing to worry about. He didn’t hurt her.”
“Adam stuffed him in closet.” Hanna nodded her head grandly, then added, oh so, helpfully, “Bad man didn’t move.”
Adam instantly clarified, “He was still breathing.” His nose crinkled. “Pity, really.”
Blinking once, I mumbled, “Thank you.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “She really didn’t want to go with him. I’m surprised she didn’t injure her arm yanking like she was.” He rolled a finger. “You said you were extremely busy that day. I didn’t think you had time to add an emergency room visit to the mix.” His head teetered. “Or fill out a missing person’s report.”
Vance sighed heavily next to me, rubbing his own forehead.
Another blink. “Just say you’re welcome.”
“You’re welcome.”
Slowly, I peered back to my foster parents, my brows raised. “What were you saying?”
Mr. Manter stared at Adam for another long beat, then at Hanna, how she rested comfortable against Vance, who didn’t appear very comfortable with her on him. He then rubbed his hands over his face in quick jerks before he stared straight into my eyes, grumbling quietly, “Your door stays open when they stay the night.” With that, he stood easily to his feet, pulling his wife up with him, and then moved around the table, grabbing Hanna up into his arms, giving her a big hug and kiss. He bent, kissing my forehead. “Go to bed, hun. We can finish any other questions we have tomorrow.” A glance between Vance and Adam as he straightened, Hanna tight in his arms, even as he ordered briskly, “Door. Open.”
I watched silently until my foster family was out of the room, then glanced between Adam and Vance, asking quietly, “Was…uh…the boyfriend bit what you two were going to ask me about?”
Adam tilted his hand back and forth. “Close enough.”
Vance cast him a cross glance, and then peered back to me. “With exclusion.”
Adam sighed heavily. “That’s what a boyfriend is. Catch up with the young lingo.”
“No, not always,” Vance argued. “Sometimes, there are open relationships.” His dark gaze honed on mine. “We want exclusion. Nothing open. For any of us.”
I merely nodded. “That’s fine. It’s pretty much what I said to them.” I stood, rolling my head on my shoulders. “So, we’re good. We can go to bed now. Excitement’s over.”
Both stared for an extended beat, as if they thought I would put up an enormous fight, and then they quickly stood with small victory grins gracing their features. Both followed behind me as we treaded lightly up the stairs. Out of respect, I made sure the door stayed open.
Epilogue
Many months later…
“God, I hate snow,” Vance muttered crossly, stomping his feet on the welcome mat, knocking the first winters snow off his boots. Both had moved their people to this city—purchasing property from Queen Clover—to be closer to me, but Vance still hadn’t acclimated to the climate yet. “This is half the reason I chose California in the first place.”
Adam snorted, his lips curving up on one side. “Afraid of cold stuff, Warlock?”
Vance shot him a fast glance. “Do I prefer grass and pigskin to snow and skis, yes, but I’m not afraid of it.” He shuddered, analyzing the snow covered lawn. “It’s just so…white.”
“And we’re back to you lurking in the shadows.”
“Whatever, Demon. You have no room to talk.”
“Both of you be quiet,” I mumbled, holding the steaming crockpot in my hands. “Ring the doorbell. I’m freezing.”
Adam sighed as he hit the doorbell, grumbling, “Which relative is this again?”
“Mrs. Maner’s dad.” I made a slight face. “He’s a grumpy asshole. The best option is for us to not enter his home. Once he gets you inside, he doesn’t let you leave until he’s done picking at you.” I stopped abruptly, plastering a pleasant smile on my face as the door opened. And there stood Grandpa Asshole wearing a pair of patched overalls. I held the crockpot out. “Merry Christmas. Mrs. Manter wanted me to drop this by.”
He sniffed at it and then motioned feebly. “Come on in, Lana. You’re letting all the bought air out just standing there. You can set it down in the kitchen.”
I kept my smile in place. “We’re actually in a hurry.” I wiggled the crockpot a bit.
He rubbed at his hands. “My arthritis is acting up. It’s hard to grip anything too carefully.” A bushy brow rose. “You wouldn’t want me to drop it and burn myself, now would you?”
Exhaling through my clenched smile, I mumbled, “No. That would be horrible.” Stepping forward, I moved into the house, Adam and Vance following in behind me while I made the introductions.
Grandpa Asshole shut the door, locking it, and pointed a finger at my face. “Now, haven’t I told you about wearing so much make-up?” He waggled a finger at Vance. “You attract those types when you look like you do.” A waggled finger at Adam. “And those types will just use you.”
And, here we go. “They’re good friends of mine. There’s no using going on.”
He snorted, walking past us, expecting us to follow him, which we did slowly. “If there’s no using going on with two fellas who look like that, then maybe you’re into those ladies?” A glance back at me. “Is that it? Are you into the ladies?”
“No,” I simplified patiently. “No ladies for me.”
He grunted, eyeing me over his shoulder as he walked on. “I think you’ve lost some weight. Those legs of yours are still scrawny and your hips wouldn’t catch a man’s eye. No wonder there’s no using going on.” A waggled finger at the crockpot. “You’ll stay and have a bowl of that chili with me. Put some weight on you yet, young lady.”
My legs and hips were more than fine. “Of course, I will.”
“Good,” he grumbled, then glanced at Vance as we entered his small kitchen, wagging that finger again. “You aren’t carrying any weapons on you, are you, young man?”
Vance’s face was stoically blank. “No, sir.”
“Well, you should,” Grandpa Asshole scolded passionately. “There are crazies out there nowadays. You can’t be too careful.” A bushy brow lifted in Adam’s direction as he eyed him gradually. “I take it back, Lana. You wear make-up like that and you’ll attract the likes of that one, too.” His old gaze zeroed in on me. “He’s not as innocent as he appears. They rarely are.” Smart, he was. He patted the bar. “And what are you waiting on? I’m starving!”
***
Two hours later, in Grandpa Asshole’s driveway, sitting in the running SUV, all three of us sat mute, just staring forward—like zombies.
“He was…something else,” Vance mumbled.
Adam grunted.
My mind numb, I muttered, “We have to come back tomorrow to pick up the crockpot.”
They both groaned.
My brows puckered. “We’ll bring Hinkle. He likes the dog.”
“Mean ass old dog for a mean ass old man,” Vance rumbled.
Adam grunted.
My smile was slow, genuine, as I glanced at the two men in the car with me. My men. I couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out. “I know I’m your mate. Next time, try not to keep secrets from me.” When they both jerked their gazes toward me, shock…and guilt showed in the extreme. I snickered, their punishment for not telling me sooner now extracted by dragging them to Grandpa Asshole’s. “Welcome to the family, gentlemen.”
The End
About the Author
#1 Bestseller in Witches and Wizards Romance and award-winner, Scarlett Dawn is the author of the Forever Evermore new adult fantasy series, which include King Hall and King Cave. She lives in the Midwest, adores her music loud, and her fries covered in melted cheese.
www.scarlettdawn.net
Under His Spell
by Natasha Logan
Destiny comes with a price.
Prologue
The Cottage
Ever since she was old enough to abandon the light of her mother’s eyes, Seri arose early in the mornings. With the first peek of dawn’s radiance winking and fluttering over the countryside, she would disappear into a small stone and vine cottage hidden in the copse of trees behind the manor house in which her family lived. Servants had said that she was drawn to the cottage before then—toddling to it as a young child, reaching for it when she was smaller still. Some even claimed that she dreamt of it in the womb, until the crumbling roof and troubled stone walls became Seri’s alone.
None knew what she did upon the earthen floors in those long hours, nor what she played. Once she was seen taking an expensive doll into its depths, and that toy never came out again much to the distress of her mother. Servants who dared to peek swore the doll was gone. Some said smashed and buried below the dirt ground, others said hidden behind the stone where only a child could see, yet others said magic had taken the doll. Though the old servants usually attributed magic to every misfortune, and weren’t to be believed.
Taming the Alpha Page 87
