Radiant Light: A Reverse Harem Romance (Tales From the Edge Book 2)

by Chloe Adler

  “What is it then?” She tilts her head and her curls fall over one shoulder.

  Can she read my mind? “I-I . . . nothing. I’m just getting used to the idea. It’s fine.” My voice is clipped and I inhale deeply, pulling in the scents of bacon and sourdough bread. My stomach grumbles, a sure sign I’m stressed. And if I stuff my face, I won’t have to talk right this second.

  I shove the corner of my BLT into my mouth, practically choking on the size of the bite.

  Iphi misses nothing. “Shall I leave the two of you to discuss your feelings about this?”

  “No need,” Rhys fires. “Let’s try it.”

  “Okay, great. I’d like to keep all lines of communication open. Weekly meetings at first where we discuss our feelings and our concerns. Sound good?”

  No. Sounds like crap. “Sure,” I say.

  Smiling at each of us, she finally sits back, picks up her burger and bites into it.

  Rhys leans forward to grab a fry off her plate too but yanks his fingers back like he’s hit an invisible brick wall. He stares at his hand like he doesn’t even recognize the appendage.

  “Dude,” I smirk. “It’s just a french fry. I know your body is a temple and all that, but don’t hurt yourself.” I flick a french fry at him from my own plate.

  Iphi giggles. The sound should make me happy. She’s back, and she’s happy. I know she loves it when we share between us. And not just food. And while Dom is a complication, it’s not like I didn’t have ample warning it was coming. Hell, maybe the three of us will finally be enough to pin her down at the Grove and keep her there, since Rhys and I couldn’t do it. Put like that, it seems a small sacrifice indeed to . . . share her with my brother. Things are settling into place.

  Why then does something feel off? Like the other flip-flop is about to drop?

  I dart a look between Iphi’s pinched brows and Rhys’s vacant stare as he contemplates her neck.

  She sets down her burger again and, as if on cue, clears her throat. “Okay, so there’s just one more tiny thing I need to talk to you about.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Iphigenia

  We walk to the police station together as the sun dips lower in the sky. Caspian grasps my right hand and Rhys reaches out for my left but lets his hand fall instead. If he weren’t walking as close to me as possible without actually touching me, I’d be worried he was having second thoughts. A few female passersby cast appreciative glances the guys’ way, then do double takes, narrowing their eyes at me in thought, or worse. Is that what scared Rhys off? I don’t know whether to be touched at his consideration or exasperated that he would care what other women think.

  By the time we arrive at the Spanish-styled structure, the sun is casting the western-facing front in warm orange and red tones. The terra cotta roof shines extra at this time of day, as if someone scrubbed each tile just moments before.

  Rhys quickly moves to hold the door open for me and Caspian shifts his palm to the small of my back. The lobby is bathed in the fading orange light too. The two officers perched behind the front desk look as if they’ve spent the majority of the summer sunning, surfing or chasing their children around in the sand.

  Caspian strides up to the desk. “Heya, Molly. We’re here to see Sheldon.”

  “Of course, Cas. He’s expecting you.” She motions to the door at the far right end of the waiting room. “You can go right in.”

  He nods and I expect him to lead the way but he moves to my side again and puts his arm around me, turning me back toward Molly and the other officer. “Molly, have you met my girlfriend, Iphigenia?”

  “I haven’t.” Molly stands up and extends her hand over the counter.

  I extend mine as well and we shake. Her grip is warm and inviting. “Nice to meet you,” I say and she smiles at me broadly, her teeth catching the sunlight.

  “Lovely to meet you as well.” Still clutching my hand, she looks past me at Rhys. “And it’s great to see you too, Rhys.” She lets my hand drop.

  Rhys nods at her and the other woman. “Molly, Amanda. Iphi’s my girlfriend as well.”

  Molly does a double take, looking between the three of us, and then bursts out laughing. “Good one, Rhys.” She leans over the counter and clips him on the shoulder. “Anyway . . . look at what we’ve been practicing.”

  Before I can sputter a protest, Molly holds her hand up and undulates her fingers in a reverse wave. Amanda throws a fake punch toward Molly and within a second Molly has twisted her around and planted her facedown on the counter.

  “Perfect form,” Rhys says. All business.

  Molly lets Amanda up and both of their eyes rake down Rhys’s body. “It is,” Amanda whispers and the women giggle together.

  I start forward—to what, rip her eyes out with my nubby fingernails? That could work. Caspian grabs my hand and nudges me toward the back.

  “Ohhh.” Amanda takes a step back.

  “Keep practicing,” Rhys says, diplomatically ignoring their comments, “and I’ll see you both in class again tomorrow.”

  “Looking forward to it.” Molly doesn’t bother hiding her interest in him. It practically stretches throughout the lobby like a sticky spider web trying to snag every oblivious bug in its path. Amanda punches her arm, shaking her head no.

  At least one of them got it.

  Rhys turns to walk with us but the acoustics carry the women’s whispers.

  “Why’d you punch me?” Molly asks.

  Amanda snorts. “Because he’s off the market. They both are. You can stop flirting with Rhys now.”

  Molly giggles. “There’s no harm in flirting if I don’t act on it.”

  My entire body stiffens and though I’d never make a scene in public, Caspian’s arm winds around my back. Rhys flanks me on my other side, stepping in pace with me, close enough to touch. The consummate professional.

  “Welcome to the new age . . .” Amanda’s words fade into the background as Caspian opens Sheldon’s door and ushers me inside.

  “Iphigenia, Caspian,” Sheldon says as we enter. “Oh and Rhys . . . too. All right.”

  “Sheldon,” Rhys and Caspian say in unison. I smile.

  A pair of rimless reading glasses slides down his ample nose, setting off the dark contrast of his barbershop ’stache. He’s a large man, intimidating even while seated behind his oversized desk. The silver in his hair races to catch up with the dark parts.

  “There aren’t enough seats for all of you but whoever wants to sit—” He motions to the two chairs on our side of the desk he’s sitting behind.

  “We’ll stand,” I say and my knights flank me.

  “Whatever’s more comfortable.” Sheldon opens a file on his desk, looks down at it and then back up to me. “We have several people in custody and we’re told they’re the ones who attacked you in the Grove.”

  We exchange glances.

  “Thanks to Dominic, we’ve finally managed to get our hands on some of these unfortunate souls.” Sheldon scrubs his chin. “This lot was different. Maybe they’re tired or hungry. They were moving slowly and didn’t put up much of a fight when we got them into their cell. They’ve sat calmly ever since. Maybe they’re more active at night or they’re just getting weaker. That would stand to reason.”

  Caspian and Rhys exchange looks. Rhys quickly looks away, leaning away from his cousin.

  “There’s a lot we don’t know about them but I assume they’re in vampire holding cells now?” Caspian says.

  “They are,” says Sheldon, looking at Caspian. “Silver bars and guards, per your suggestion. We’ve all been on alert since you and your brothers came to the Edge and warned us that things were amiss but this has gotten way out of hand.”

  Sheldon turns toward me. “What we do know is that you’ve all been accosted. We have enough evidence from Rhys, Caspian, Dominic and a few other civilians to hold them while we look into this mess.

  “It’s not clear if they’re legally culpable for their
actions, but we can’t let them out on the streets,” adds Caspian.

  “Indeed.” Sheldon’s gaze switches back to me. “I had planned on asking you to make a statement. I appreciate you coming in here but I would have sent an officer to Aurelia’s house to talk to you there.”

  I nod. “I understand but I wanted to see them.” I don’t add that I need to see if my personal protection spell is working. That’s most important. I’d also like to cast a protection ward over the police department but I need to see what we’re dealing with first, since I have no idea what would happen if I cast the spell while ghouls were still inside. Would they run away screaming? Fly through the ceiling and leave man-shaped cutouts in their wake like in a cartoon? Or worse yet—nothing at all?

  Sheldon’s nose twitches, lifting his mustache, which has a few gray hairs taking up residence. “There’s no need.”

  “We think there is one,” says Caspian, which is totally untrue. I had to cajole and beg them both to bring me here for this.

  “We’d like to go in with her.” Rhys folds his arms over his broad chest. I want to squeeze one but this is not the proper time or place.

  “Well . . .” Sheldon looks between the three of us.

  The men widen their stances practically in unison. Puffed chests, shoulders pulled back and chins held high—daring Sheldon to say no.

  “Doesn’t look like that’s up for negotiation.” He smooths his moustache down with two fingers.

  “It’s not,” I say, surprising all three of them.

  We follow three officers to the holding area at the back of the station. One of the cops, a woman with a nametag that reads Marquez, stops at a door and pushes a button on the intercom.

  “We’re bringing in civilians,” she says.

  “Come on in,” the voice responds.

  Another officer, a guard for the cells, looks through the small window in the upper half of the door and nods at the woman. Marquez touches her keycard to the reader, and the sounds of thick metal clacking fills the corridor. The door, at least six inches thick, slides open. I sigh in relief.

  Inside the room are three armed guards, weapons drawn but pointed at the floor. Inside one of the cells are three ghouls. When they see me, two of them rush the bars, foaming at the mouth. One of them is Ayden and for a split second I freeze. He’s in even worse shape than the last time I saw him. His eyes are cloudy and yet laser focused on me as he claws past the bars to try and get to me.

  Two of the guards aim and shoot. I gasp. Caspian jumps in front of me, reaching behind his back to fold his arms around me. Tiny dart-like projectiles shoot into each of the ghouls and they fall to the ground, grasping at their necks and writhing.

  “Liquid silver,” Rhys growls, cowering back.

  That must be instinctual; it would hurt him too.

  The third ghoul is the woman who attacked us at the Grove. She’s not glaring or foaming at the mouth. Instead, she just smiles, sending shivers down my spine. Her lips are pulled tight over rotting teeth. I peer over Caspian’s shoulder at her.

  Just a few days ago, the woman was rather pretty. Now she looks like a decaying zombie. Her skin is splotchy red in parts and pale in others. Her once bright eyes are dark and sunken. And her hair, which was thick and abundant, is thinning so much that her scalp shows through in places. Apparently once Nolan was off the table, their master plucked another victim. I throw up a thank-you to the Goddess for keeping him safe and out of sight in Rhys’s house at the Grove. He’s been sleeping through most of the week and needs all the rest he can get after being under someone else’s influence for so long.

  “Speaking of Nolan,” the woman hisses.

  Shit, she can read my mind?

  “Nolan? Who’s that?” asks Officer Marquez.

  “No clue,” says Caspian quickly.

  “She’s crazy,” adds Rhys.

  “Crazy for your little girlfriend,” adds the ghoul.

  “What do you want with Ms. Holt?” asks Marquez.

  “Master wants her. No questions asked. Maybe to lick her tasty flesh from her bones.”

  Ewww, really?

  “Not happening.” Caspian pulls me closer into his back.

  “Isn’t that sweet, you think you can protect your little pretty, pretty.”

  “Who is your master?” asks the policewoman.

  “Come closer and I’ll tell you.”

  “Don’t.” One of the other officers puts a hand on Marquez’s arm.

  She motions for the other officers to convene by the door, throwing a look at the guards, who keep their guns trained on the ghoul.

  “You then,” the ghoul says to me, “without your bodyguards. I won’t bite.”

  “Why would I trust you? You’ve tried to kidnap me once already and hurt the people I love.”

  “Because you want to help your town. And your boyfriends.” Her eyes are on Rhys.

  Caspian stiffens in front of me and I wrap my arms around his stomach, clasping my wrists. “Move forward, blocking me,” I whisper toward his ear. The two of us shuffle closer, together.

  The ghoul comes directly up to the bars, holding her hands up for the guards. “If you don’t play nice, we’ll tell them about you.” She’s looking at Rhys.

  “What about you?” I turn my head to look at him.

  “I haven’t a clue,” he growls through a clenched jaw. “She’s crazy. We’ve established that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Caspian

  “Am I?” The ghoul smiles again and her putrid breath curls around the bars and wafts toward us. I tighten my hold around Iphigenia. She coughs and buries her face in my back. It’s the same rancid stink that rolled off Nolan when he, too, was possessed. If we can disable the puppet master, will it release his victims? At the very least, Iphigenia would be safe, and for that reason alone, it’s worth trying.

  “We have a simple request. Free us, hand your girlfriend over, and your brother goes free. Master will free him from his control. Let him live out his life unharmed.”

  My entire body stiffens. Why would she be using Nolan as a bargaining chip? With Iphi’s amulet, he’s free of the monster’s control. What don’t we know? Whatever they have on Nolan, this is not up for negotiation. “Never!” I snap.

  Yet even with Iphigenia’s small body pushed solidly against me, reminding me what’s at stake, it’s hard to watch history repeat itself. Nolan is technically my cousin but he’s been in my life since I was a kid and is as much a brother to me as the rest. And here we are, putting the woman we love ahead of him. It must be doubly hard for Rhys. After all, it’s not the first time he’s been forced to choose someone else over Nolan.

  From the beginning, Rhys integrated well with the pack, but Nolan . . . We all tried to watch out for him but as he grew, he became more and more defiant. I realize now that he was probably trying to define himself, become his own man, something that wasn’t always easy in our pack. But at the time we didn’t understand what was happening and we let him drift farther and farther away.

  Seven years ago, one cold night in February, when the snow was falling hard outside the tiny one-room hovel, Thorn and Nolan got into it.

  “You can’t tell me what to do anymore, I’m fourteen,” Nolan said. He wore his usual defiant posture. Chin and chest jutted out, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring.

  “I can and I will. You’re still a kid. I’m twenty-three and your legal guardian.” Thorn narrowed his eyes right back and put his hands on his hips.

  “I’m sick of being treated like a little kid. I don’t care how old you are. You are not the boss of me. None of you are.” Nolan screwed his eyes shut. “I can make my own way. I don’t need any of you.” He turned and opened the front door of the tenement house.

  Thorn, Dominic and myself had been working odd jobs for the past year in order to afford a room in Harlem that we could all call home. Sure it was small and dark in the winter, but it was mostly warm and always dry. We slept on the floo
r together and after we salvaged two used mattresses, we thought we were living like kings.

  “Nolan, wait.” Rhys jumped to his side and tried to slam the door shut but Nolan shoved his foot in to hold it open.

  “You’re no better, brother.” He stepped through the door. “Don’t bother looking for me either. I’ve made some real friends.”

  “Who?” Rhys held the door open, calling after him. But when he tried to run out there too, Thorn dropped a heavy palm on his shoulder, rooting him to the spot. A hard choice, but what else could Thorn do? Nolan had been out of control for weeks. We couldn’t afford to lose one more of us.

  “What do you care?” Nolan called back over his shoulder and disappeared into the night.

  We all knew, even if Nolan wouldn’t say it. The J Street Boys were a pack of drug dealers headed by a guy in his thirties named J. He offered kids on the street a place to crash, food and protection in exchange for selling dope. Most of the kids ended up hooked on drugs. After that, many of them either landed in prison or turned up dead.

  We all knew this and yet we did nothing. We didn’t go after him. We just stood there and watched him leave, knowing full well his fate was sealed in that moment.

  We abandoned him in order to save our pack. What’s the saying? Sacrifice one to save many? We sacrificed our brother to save ourselves. Nolan never forgave us and I never blamed him. But we were kids. All of us. Especially Rhys, who had already sacrificed for his brother once. And here we are again, making the same exact sacrifice, throwing our baby cousin under the bus, for Iphigenia.

  “You chose poorly,” the evil ghoul sneers. “Master won’t stop until he has the girl.”

  “Why?” My voice rings loud and clear. I don’t care if the other cops hear. I want to know.

  “You’ll have to ask him.” The ghoul looks pointedly at Rhys.

  Iphigenia

  After a moment of dumbfounded silence, the ghoul sneers at me with a mouth full of rotting teeth. “Let me make this a little clearer, girl. We’ll exchange him,” she points at Rhys, “for you.”