Realms and Rebels: A Paranormal and Fantasy Reverse Harem Collection

by C. M. Stunich

  1

  Fiona

  I was not a pretty girl. Not even plain. The world wasn’t kind to ugly girls, but that didn’t matter to me now.

  “How’s it going, Jacques?” I leaned against the bar. Against my bar. I owned this place, this dark wood, low-light space where witches, Weres, and vamps met in peace. Arched ceilings soared above us and the blue and green stained glass windows were lost in the dark. The bar used to be a church, but I found a better use for holy ground. Now this building made a true place of peace and community.

  Also, it made a pretty decent profit.

  When Jacques thrust his fine-boned jaw, I followed his gaze to a table in the corner. He didn’t talk much, but he saw everything. Three men sat in the darkest corner of an already dark room, and they’d drawn Jacques’ distrust.

  Jacques was already filling a cup with Sprite and three cherries, my usual, because as he often implied, I was basically a child on the inside. His deep brown eyes were fixed on the glass in front of him. I glanced past him to the mirrored back of the bar and then regretted it. Nothing looked right. The mirror reflected a far emptier room than reality. It turned out the vampires really didn’t show up in a mirror.

  The mirror also reflected a woman with strawberry-blonde hair pulled back tightly from a heart-shaped face. Her black dress hugged every curve, from round breasts to a narrow waist to what my mother used to call peasant hips. The hips and hair were definitely mine. But the lips in the mirror parted in surprise as my eyes met my own. The illusion always unsettled me. That was not my face. It was a pretty face: wide-set hazel eyes, a neat little nose, high cheekbones. It was a definite improvement. But that face was forced on me a long time ago, and I could never get rid of it.

  Jacques cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “You do that eyebrow-raise exceptionally well, you know,” I told him, reaching out to take my drink.

  “And you admire yourself exceptionally well,” Jacques broke his usual silence to mock me, which was also part of our daily ritual. “I suppose it’s all the practice.”

  I raised my glass to him, toasting the effort, although his wit wasn’t particularly biting today, and turned toward the dark corner. It was part of my business to smooth things out around here. The local police—that was to say, a particular branch of the local police—helped me keep things peaceful when the inevitable cultural differences arose. Before I called Precinct S, I needed to find out why Jacques had alarm bells ringing.

  “Be careful,” he said behind me. I froze before glancing over my shoulder. Usually, when he alerted me that the bar needed my peacekeeping skills, he didn’t bother to tell me what I was walking into. Honestly, I preferred he didn’t tell me; I had my own instincts and my own judgment. I knew he had my back if it really came down to it. No need to stress his already husky, whiskey-soaked vocal cords.

  “Hunters.” He fished a cherry out of the jar by the stem and popped it into his mouth. It was unsanitary, but I was the only one who usually ate the cherries. We didn’t do big business in cocktails. Given their fast metabolisms, Weres generally drank hard liquor. Vamps drank out of dark-tinted glasses and that stuff didn’t come in a bottle.

  It felt like my ankles wobbled slightly as I headed across the room, but it was probably my imagination. I was a pro at walking in three-inch heels. Still, Hunters were bad news. Most of my clientele were potential prey. Hunters weren’t all bad, but they did have a reputation for brutality. They killed Weres and vamps that hadn’t done any harm in order to make sure they never did.

  They were not really keen on witches either.

  But this was my bar. It was my job to find out why these Hunters were here and then to get them cleared out before they screwed up my Saturday night receipts.

  Even as I walked across the room, I could feel tension pulsing in the air. A table of vamps rose and walked out with that smooth, synchronized, we’re-part-of-a-music-video-only-we-can-hear gait they seemed to have perfected. The table full of Hunters shifted subtly.

  Their eyes followed the vamps. The man on the left could have been a vamp himself; he was tall, dark and gorgeous. I like my guys clean-cut—on the surface—but when he propped his bearded jaw on his palm, exposing tattoos running down his wrist, I felt a surge of curiosity.

  The other two wore their hair military short, sporting leather jackets over broad-shouldered, chiseled bodies. It looked as if they had time-warped off the set of Top Gun.

  One of them looked from the vamps up to me. Icy blue eyes met mine evenly, but no matter how chilly his gaze, his lips were kissable above a hard-lined jaw. He looked like a boy whose lips I once kissed.

  My heart bottomed out as I recognized him. Hayes.

  Yeah, these guys were definitely my type. I looked to the other Top Gun and met warm, deep brown eyes about a jaw that seemed to have been chiseled by Leonardo. Case. Nine years later, and Case and Hayes were still side-by-side. Case’s nose looked like it had been broken since he left town. It made his high-boned face looked dangerous as well as handsome.

  I had to keep going like nothing had happened. If they realized I recognized them, my cover would be blown. I fixed a smile on my face and sashayed toward them.

  My toe caught on an uneven board in the dark rustic floor. I tripped forward.

  But it didn’t matter because Hayes jumped to catch me. He wrapped his hands around my biceps, his hard grip saving me from face-planting into the table. He pulled me against his body to steady me. Against his rock-hard body. The way his fingers bit into my arms and his hard muscles were against mine was completely unnecessary, but it still took me a second to get my feet underneath me.

  It took me another second or two to just fucking revel in having Hayes’ body against mine again.

  By second number four, I was ready to be a real adult again. Pushing Hayes away from me, I took a step back but nodded my thanks. “I guess I owe you a beer.”

  I pitched my voice a little lower, a little huskier than normal, because it was my voice that might give me away.

  “I guess I wouldn’t pass one up.” His low, rich voice was as panty-dropping as ever.

  “You usually don’t.” Leaning on his elbow, Case’s deep brown eyes were amused as he looked me over. Case had always looked at me as if he saw right through me and liked what he saw.

  It took me a second to remember he wouldn’t recognize me, and by the time I realized that, I was already smiling back at him. Goofily.

  Get it together, Fiona.

  I glanced back over my shoulder, wondering if anyone had seen that. Jacques was cleaning the bar with a rag so studiously that I knew I’d hear about this for the rest of my life. Over at the door, Gemma, my bouncer, was watching carefully, waiting for an excuse to roll a few Hunters into the gravel outside. Gemma was far scarier than she looked.

  “Actually, instead of a beer, we’d rather have information.” Their friend had a faint accent, Russian or maybe Ukrainian, and I’d never realized before how sexy that accent was.

  Hayes sat again, crossing his arms over his chest. His long legs, clad in dark jeans, were still kicked out in front of him, the toes of his combat boots next to the red curves of my heels. “Actually, it’s my beer you’re giving away. This is Nicolai. Nick, if you’re pretending to be his friend like we do.”

  “I took a bullet for you in Amsterdam, you jackass,” Nick said.

  “I’m Melody.” The words came out in a rush. It sounded like I was worried I was going to forget my own name, which was true. My new name never quite fit right.

  Case’s eyes flickered toward Hayes, who leaned forward, his broad shoulders somehow boyish when he braced his left elbow on his knee and held out his other hand to me. “Hayes.”

  I took his blocky hand in mine. His knuckles were scarred and calloused, his palm warm and rough. I wondered if his hands always felt rough. For a second, summer night long ago rose up in my memory: Hayes laughing as he leaned over me after I’d jumped off the dock on a dare. He
held his hand out just like this to tow me up out of dark water. Even as a boy he’d been broad-shouldered and leanly muscled. He’d drawn me up until my feet caught on the damp dock, and he pulled me in and hugged me.

  Reaching across the table to shake my hand as well, Case broke the spell. His smile was as wide and infectious as ever. He’d given me a smile like that when I was a nervous fifteen-year-old, leaning in to kiss his cheek good night, right before he turned his face and my lips grazed his.

  Once upon a time, I’d kissed both these boys. Best friends so close they were nearly brothers.

  And if it weren’t for the fact I’d lost them because of it, I wouldn’t be sorry.

  Nick looked at Hayes and Case as if they were idiots, and I realized I was not the only one staring. The two of them were looking at me as if they were captivated.

  There was nothing unusual about men staring at my fake-face like they couldn’t look away. It stung, though, to have Hayes and Case taken in.

  Nick kicked out a chair toward me. “So I heard you own this place.”

  “I do.” I’d popped up in my own hometown with a new name and a new face, and no one was the wiser.

  “You have an interesting clientele.” Hayes held his bottle up to the light, examining the amber liquid, and then took a long sip.

  I rested my hands on the back of the chair, but I didn’t need to be invited to sit down in my own damn bar. “Yes, I do. Clientele you’re making nervous. Is there something I can help you with?”

  Hayes set the beer on the table with a definitive clink. “Hope so. Have you heard anything about the Were plague?”

  “I don’t live under a rock.” In fact, there were few Weres here tonight. Weres were keeping to themselves, avoiding congregating in big groups. The infection was spreading like wildfire.

  “That’s exactly why we want to talk to you.” Nick glanced at his companions in a pointed way. “You know a lot of people. Talk to a lot of people. Right?”

  Nick seemed to be trying to maneuver me, but I grew up with a mother who was always maneuvering about something I’d done, with an explosion waiting once she’d cornered me. I’d grown up cagey. My heart pounded, but I smiled at Nick across the table.

  “I sure do,” I said. “I have a lot of friends around here.”

  “So you must be worried about the Weres. We are, too.” Hayes’ deep blue eyes were steady on me, and some of my anger subsided to a lightness in my chest.

  Knowing my reaction to Hayes was ridiculous didn’t change it. I needed to get these guys out of my bar. “Yeah, I am. Do you know something about the plague?”

  “It’s not a plague at all,” Hayes said.

  Nick rolled his eyes in exasperation, running his hand through his hair, as if he couldn’t stand Hayes laying all the cards on the table.

  “What is it?” Interesting that Hayes would tell me that when his hipster buddy didn’t want me to know. Hayes knew my old face, but maybe part of him felt something familiar about me. Something trustworthy. Maybe.

  “We think it’s a drug.” Case’s deep brown eyes met mine. “Not an illness at all.”

  “But kids are getting sick,” I protested.

  Case nodded. “I know, but the only common denominator we can find to every infection is a drug-user in close relation.”

  “What’s the drug?” My voice sounded hollow.

  My mother was in the narcotics distribution business. There was no love lost between us, but I couldn’t imagine she’d sell bad drugs to the Weres. That was bad business.

  “We think it’s called Power X. Power, since it’s so hard for Weres to get a high,” Hayes told me.

  Well, my mom wasn’t involved with Power X before I’d escaped the family business. I’d never heard of it before.

  “Bad news if humans get a dose,” Case said. “We’ve found a few unlucky dead ones along the way.”

  “Why are you investigating this?” I leveled a look at each of them in turn. “Hunters kill Weres. What’s the difference to you if a drug kills them? Professional pride? Job security?”

  “We’re not in the business of killing anyone who doesn’t need killing,” Nick said.

  I nodded. “Right. That’s not chilling at all. Totally normal thing to say.”

  “We just want to know what you know,” Hayes said smoothly. Hayes was always smooth. Hayes was your mom is crazy, you’re beautiful, and a sure arm around my waist when he kissed me.

  Case, on the other hand, was slam you up against the wall and kiss you like it’s our last day on earth, but I’m not talking feelings.

  They were all staring at me. Shit. I’d gotten lost in Nostalgialand. Or maybe Fantasyland; I would like to be kissed like that again. “Oh. I don’t know anything. Sorry.”

  What the hell did my mom know about this? The thought filled me with dread.

  I took a step away before I realized I was forgetting something and turned around. “I’ve got to go. I’ll get you my business card, though. You can call me if you have any more questions, and I’ll call you if I hear anything. All right?”

  Case nodded. Nick glanced away and muttered something I couldn’t make out—that might have been because he was muttering in Russian.

  Hayes ran his tongue over his white upper teeth as he leaned back, and then he drummed his fingers absentmindedly on the table. His hands were broad and strong, with long, quick fingers that used to be able to strum a guitar or between my thighs with equal skill. I was staring. But God, even Hayes fidgeting was sexy as hell.

  “You need to stay out of my bar,” I said abruptly, like a mechanical doll coming back to life after a brief malfunction. “Hunters are bad for business.”

  “Sorry for the trouble,” Case said. “We’ll be on our way soon.”

  “Good,” I said.

  No matter how cool I tried to play it, my heels definitely wobbled as I crossed the bar back to my office.

  2

  Fiona

  In my office, the noise of the bar faded away. I rested my forehead against the cool wooden door. Breathe. I needed to breathe for a second.

  Those two shouldn’t have affected me so much, but first love was wild. It was wild from the beginning: the witch’s daughter—who was equally witchy herself—falling in love with the two young Hunters. It could never work, and of course, in the end, it didn’t.

  When I saw them, I fell to pieces all over again.

  My mother had tried to tell me that our last kisses goodbye was just lies. They used you. No Hunter wants a witch, and no man wants an ugly girl. I winced at the memory of my old face, blotched and puffy, in the mirror. It had been hard to argue with my mother, even though Hayes and Case never seemed to see ugly when they looked at me.

  The quick knock on the office door was loud with my forehead pressed against it. I took a quick step back, my hand pressing over my chest like I could still my suddenly rapidly-beating heart.

  “What is it?” I called, and my voice came out sounding normal. And a bit bitchy. But I’d take it.

  “Figured we’d make it easy for you and come get that card. Clear out of here before you lose any business.” It was Case’s low, sexy rumble of a voice.

  We were talking about business cards. My nipples should not be pebbling inside my bra, my core tightening as if my body remembered Case all too well.

  “Great.” My hand was on the knob, and I was turning it before I realized it was going to look weird that I was right there, as if I were waiting for them to knock. But I’d already pulled the door part way open. Maybe I was a ninja; for all they knew, I was so light on my feet that they didn’t hear me walk across the room.

  I took a step back to pull the door open, and the old wooden floor creaked under my foot, a long, shrill sound. I swore that board had never been quite that screechy before.

  Hayes and Case both stood in the doorway. Hayes was taller, broad-shouldered and lanky; his flannel shirt clung across his pecs and hung loosely around his narrow waist. His deep
blue eyes twinkled at me. Case leaned against the doorway, one hand shoved in his jeans pocket. His shirt sleeves were rolled mid-way up his wiry, corded forearms, and I caught a glimpse of a dark tattoo running down his arm that he didn’t have in high school. I wanted to know all about Case’s tattoos.

  “I’ll get you that card.” I cross the room, keenly aware of their eyes on me, and sat down heavily in my office chair. As I rifled through my desk drawer, I kicked off my high heels under the desk. I couldn’t wear them around these guys. Eventually, I was going down.

  Case sauntered into the room, his hands still in his pockets, and took a seat on the edge of my desk. He was close enough that I could smell his cologne, which was spicy and warm and made me want to lean in toward him and bury my face against his hard-muscled chest.

  “So you’re a witch?” Case asked in that sexy growl of his.

  My heart froze in my chest. But I looked up at him and smiled, swiping strands of strawberry blonde hair out of my face. “We’re not all evil, you know.”

  “So that’s a yes,” Case said.

  “You’re making her nervous.” Hayes closed the door. The sound of music and chatter faded away.

  I stood straight, the card forgotten. No, it couldn’t happen like this, with these two boys that I used to love. When we were kids, they’d convinced me to ditch school—not difficult—and we’d slipped out to the lake. Alone on the beach, they’d told me who they really were. I’d stared at them, blood rushing through my ears to drown out their words. When I turned to run, my feet slipped in the wet sand. Case caught me, his arm around my waist, begging me to listen. He said they were just as scared of witches as I was of Hunters. Hunters were the bogeymen in a witch’s world, and we were the bogeymen in theirs.

  “You’re both making me nervous.” As I sat back down on the edge of my seat, my fingers skimmed over the miscellany in my drawer, heading for the false back of the drawer. For my pistol.