Rogues_Supers of Project 12_Reverse Harem

by Angel Lawson

The woman, his woman, stands on a small platform at the edge of the gym. She assesses each one of the recruits, including him, taking notes on her clipboard. Owen knows he doesn’t have to pass but he can’t make a fool of himself out here. He wants to fit in and keep up with the others. He also wants to prove himself to her.

  He told her the other night he was the king of all fuck-ups. It’s not a lie. He had a better shot than any of them at having a normal life. His aunt gave him that chance, but he screwed around, using his gift for petty games.

  And then she died and he did nothing to save her.

  From there he went down the path of vengeance. That too got him nothing but trouble, his name on Jensen’s list. The only good thing that came of it was Astrid following him home.

  Astrid pushing back.

  Astrid reaching for him.

  Touching him.

  Her eyes.

  Her mouth.

  Her wet and delicious—

  The recruit in front of him falls, tripping over a shoelace. Owen stumbles, but stays upright. He glances at Astrid and spots the slightest shake of her head. Smooth dude. Smooth.

  He pulls his mind out of the gutter and back in the game.

  The recruit class is an even split, four men and four women. They have no information on one another—no backstory. They’re told not to share. Two of the guys are obviously ex-military, as is one of the women. He’d guess the others have a background in athletics and various skills in fighting. One woman already is falling behind on the run. Astrid eyes her. She’ll cut her before the day is over.

  Jesus, he thinks, picking up his pace. When is the day going to be over?

  Heart pounding, he finishes his final lap and grabs the water bottle off the floor and drinks half of it in one swallow. One of the men, cut like marble but probably doesn’t do enough cardio, pukes into the trashcan next to the wall.

  “Circle up!” Astrid shouts and they all walk over to her. Well, everyone but the lagging jogger. She’ll pack her shit and head home.

  “Good work on your first day, the testing rounds are the hardest. We push you to the max to see what you can handle.” She eyes the group. “Tomorrow we’ll split into teams for some hand-to-hand drills. At the end of the day we’ll pair off and spar. Losers get extra work. Any questions?”

  The group drips with sweat. No one has the extra breath for questions. Astrid looks pleased about this.

  “Alright, go home and rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  The recruits gather their belongings and leave. Owen heads to the locker room and when no one is looking, uses the back door to get to the hallway that heads to their living quarters upstairs.

  Astrid waits at the bottom. From the tight set of her jaw, there’s no mistaking why she’s here. “I’m not expecting you to be the best in the class, but I do need you not to blow it, okay?”

  “I got distracted.”

  “Not an excuse.”

  “Even if I was thinking about you?”

  She snorts. “Nice try.”

  Owen leans against the wall. His legs cramp. He reaches for her hip. “You think I’m kidding? Because I’m not. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  “Then maybe we should take a break? Keep things platonic.”

  Terror sets in. “What? No. No. That is not what I meant.”

  “Then what? Blow off a little steam? Is that the problem? Are you on edge?”

  Mercy, she’s trying to kill him. Kill him with that sexy mouth and rocking body. His body is exhausted and his brain turns too much.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she says, licking her bottom lip. “I’ve got five minutes. Meet me upstairs?”

  The glint in her eye is mischievous. She already knows his answer. “I don’t think I can move my legs that fast.”

  “Aww, poor baby. Well, maybe next time.” She turns away.

  “You’re just going to leave me?”

  Her smile is wicked. “Quinn left you some kind of puke green smoothie in the refrigerator. He swears it will ease the lactic build-up in your quads.”

  “Ugh. It probably has kale in it.”

  She laughs. “Probably. Drink it, shower, and hit the bed.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Want to do one of the last two with me? Or both? I can lean on the wall.”

  “I’ve got to log in my report on the recruits.”

  “After?”

  “Headed to check on Casper.”

  “You’re a busy woman, Astrid Petta.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll find time to fit you in.” She smiles devilishly.

  “I’m holding you to it.” He kisses her, wanting a taste before she leaves again. She pulls away and waves, heading back into the gym. Owen grunts, taking the first step up the long flight of stairs that leads to the third floor. Yeah, he’s definitely holding her to it.

  Chapter Eight

  Astrid

  “Where are you headed?” Quinn asks from behind the office desk. He’s comfortable in his position of manager; taking over scheduling and payroll among a few other day-to-day jobs. It’s been a huge help and frees Astrid to handle the recruits and now Casper.

  “Draco’s.” His eyebrow lifts and his emotions shift. She’s sensed it before, the mixture of protection and jealousy. “I’m going to try working with Casper a little today.”

  “Will he be there?”

  “Who?” She knows who. He leans back in his seat, jaw tight, refusing to say his name. Astrid sighs. “Are you really jealous?”

  “No,” he replies, but the next wave of emotions is guilt. “Okay, a little.”

  “There’s no reason to be jealous.”

  “You’re the one that calls him Mr. Perfect, not me.”

  “Hey, I can’t help the fact he’s some kind of genetically superior being. He has nothing to do with us.” The relationship she’s built with both Quinn and Owen is something she can’t describe. Their bond to one another is something that seems tied as much to their commitment to using their powers for good as it is the connection of their past. They’ve got something no one else can understand—she trusts them in a way she can’t risk with others. Except, the knowing look on Quinn’s face isn’t unreasonable. The bond she shares with them is one she also may share with Draco. She feels the tug to him, one she finds hard to resist.

  She walks around the desk and nudges Quinn’s desk chair back. He gives her room and she hops up on the desk. They’re face to face, or close to it, and it’s the best place to clear the air.

  “Tell me what you think is going on with us,” she says. “Do you think you and I are just fooling around? That I’m testing the waters, seeing which one of you I like the best?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think that.”

  “Then what?”

  Quinn rubs his face and sighs. “I don’t know if I trust him, Astrid. We’ve got a lot of enemies and he works for one of them. Things are rocky right now with Jensen and this task force—the push back from Scruggs last night. I don’t know how much we can let him in.”

  We. That means he’s thought about it and he’s thinking about it from the perspective of the group. That makes her happy, because that idea of them being bonded together is what’s getting her through the day. Pushing her to go back and figure out how to help Casper.

  She slides off the desk and places her hands on the chair arms, leaning over Quinn. Like clockwork, his heartbeat kicks into gear. “I’m not going to let anyone mess us up, okay?” She holds up her hand and pulls off her glove. She runs her fingers down his face, neck, and down his arm to his hand. When their fingers touch there’s no doubt of his affection for her—his loyalty and commitment. It’s strong and it’s a testimony of what the others need to meet. She presses her lips to his, sealing her promise to keep them safe.

  “Okay,” he agrees. “I trust you and your freaky senses.”

  “I know you do.” She kisses him once more and then stands, knowing she’s got to get out of here sooner th
an later or things are going to get heated. “Hey, I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  She pulls the scrap of paper out of her pocket. “That’s Luby’s number. Give him a call and offer him a job. I want to keep an eye on him.”

  He picks up the number. “You think he’s a problem?”

  “No,” she says, grabbing her things. “I think he’s in danger and that’s one kid I’m not going to let slip through the cracks.”

  *

  In a testimony of trust, Draco gave Astrid access to his home. Not Demetria’s mansion but the smaller cottage behind the main house. The one where he lives. He told her that he and Demetria never slept together—that their relationship wasn’t like that. She believes him, but it’s still hard to reconcile the crazy woman and her relationship with Draco, especially when she approaches the cottage.

  It, like everything else on the property, is well-maintained and could be lifted from a fairytale. The wood-shingled roof is covered with green moss. The front door has thick lead windows. A picket fence surrounds the house and she unlatches the gate to let herself in.

  He told her that the cottage is closer to Casper’s bunker—a tiny fortress built into the cliffs backing up to the house. It was originally just that—a fallout shelter—but it’s perfect for the paranoid and scared Goblin that watches over her with such care.

  Today, Astrid plans on speaking with him directly and laying everything on the table. She has a nagging, nervous feeling it’s not going to go well.

  Opening the front door, her senses are assaulted with full-on Draco. Vanilla mixed with sugar and a hint of something manly, she has no idea how to describe it. All she knows is that it makes her want to roll around in that scent—naked.

  The next thing that catches her eye is the books.

  Books are everywhere.

  It’s not cluttered but they line the shelves on the walls and are stacked on tables. Hardback, paperback, fiction, and non-fiction. She recognizes Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. She spies poetry and Jane Austen.

  “Huh,” she says aloud, passing the living room and taking note of a well-worn leather chair in front of the fireplace. A small wooden table is next to it, piled high with more books. In the kitchen, a single coffee cup dries next to the sink.

  Draco is out at the sanitarium visiting Demetria. It’s odd without him here, even odder in this more intimate space. At once she feels closer to him while also struck with the reality she knows nothing about this man at all. Entering his home office, she finds what was missing from the office in Demetria’s house. More photos, small knickknacks from his travels abroad. A blue hoodie hanging over a chair. She picks it up and catches his sweet scent still lingering in the fabric. Sneakers sit by the door, the bottoms covered in mud from a recent hike.

  All of this is information she’ll have to unpack later. Right now, she’s here to figure out someone else.

  She sits behind the desk, sinking into the soft leather chair, and picks up the remote, using it like he showed her. The screen turns on and Casper is visible, standing over his worktable. She presses the microphone and says, “Good afternoon, Casper.”

  He looks up at the camera in the corner of the room and touches something on his neck. The voice modulator, she assumes, because when he speaks it’s the tinny, false sound she’s accustomed to. “Astrid?”

  “That’s me, friend. How are you doing?”

  He frowns and drops his project. The anger she expected has been replaced with confusion. “Are you in Draco’s house? That’s his camera.”

  “I am.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  She’s not sure if he’s kidding. “Of course I didn’t kill him. He let me in.” She holds up the brass key. “Gave me full access.”

  “Wooed him with your magic pussy, didn’t you?”

  “Gross and no.”

  “Fuck, then you’re staging a takeover? I don’t know if that’s going to work. Draco is pretty tough. Where are the others?”

  “They know I’m here and no, I’m not staging a takeover, Jesus, what do you think? I’m some kind of sex-charming witch? I came to see you. I want to work this out.”

  He sits in front of his monitor and flips the screen. It’s no longer an overview of the room but of his face. His real face, and something about seeing it makes her heart clench. “Look, I’m sorry about the other day. I’ve been on kind of a manic bender—you know—working and shit. I didn’t expect you to show up with Draco like that. It’s weird having someone else know where I am.”

  “You know you can trust me.”

  “I know.” He sighs and rubs his eyes.

  “Looks like you haven’t slept in days.”

  “I haven’t,” he agrees. “But I made you some cool tech. I’ll send it over ASAP.”

  “How about I come down and get it.” He freezes. “Or maybe we could meet in the middle, somewhere around that crazy carousel Demetria installed in the back yard.”

  “That’s a negative, Echo. No can do.”

  “Why not? We’re friends and friends hang out together. We share what’s going on in life and help each other when there’s a problem.”

  “I don’t have a problem.”

  “Of course not!” she says, realizing it was the wrong thing to say. “I just mean—fuck, dude, you know what I mean. You know me. I am not going to judge you because of some little disability.”

  “What did you say?” His voice is cold as ice.

  “Huh? Just that I want to see you, I don’t care if you think it’s weird.”

  His eyes cloud with anger. “No, about the disability. What are you talking about?”

  They stare at one another while the realization sets in. Astrid knows his secret, about his stutter, and she watches as his reality falls apart.

  “Casper, it’s not a big deal, no one cares. No one is judging—"

  “Shut up, Astrid.”

  “What? What are you so mad about?”

  “How did he find out?” He gives her no chance to respond. “Digging around in my background? Looking up doctor reports. I took all that shit off the web. I’m untraceable.”

  Yet they both know he’s not and that seems to rock him more than anything else.

  “It’s one thing for him to know but fuck. Fuck, Astrid, I’ve kept all his secrets—I kept HIM from you until he was ready to make himself known. I’ve worked tirelessly for all of you and this is the shit I get in return.”

  His jaw ticks and it’s odd to see the face of the man she’s come to know so well. His temper isn’t a surprise, but the way it changes his face is. The curve of his cheekbones is harsh, as is the point of his chin. His eyes narrow and Astrid can only guess about the string of curses under his breath.

  “Look, this is all a big clusterfuck and I desperately want to fix it. Let’s just meet and deal with it. I know you’re anxious but that’s the fear taking over—trust me, I know fear and anxiety better than anyone. You can’t let it get to you.”

  He stares at the monitor. She knows he can see her sitting behind Draco’s desk. His eyes flash with a glimmer and she’s hopeful he’ll take the chance, for her and the bond they’ve created, but the spark of anger returns and he says, “Fuck you, Astrid. Fuck you and your nosy, getting all up in my business self. You can’t just be happy with Owen and Quinn. No, you had to mix it up with Draco and then track me down.” His voice raises, pushing at the modulator. “You kept talking about Demetria and her Lost Boys and how crazy she is. You know, now that I think about it, I think you’re the one big on collecting the rejects from Project 12.”

  “That is not what I’m doing!”

  “No? I’m not an idiot and I’m not going to be one of your little toys. Stay the fuck away from me.”

  The screen cuts, turning black. His words sting like a slap to the face.

  Stunned and hurting, she sits in the chair staring up at the blank screen. She’s blinking back tears when she hears footsteps in
the hallway and the familiar scent of the man that lives in the house.

  “Hey,” he says, coming around the desk. One look at her and the smile on his mouth vanishes. “What happened?”

  Astrid wipes her eyes. “I pushed too hard or something.”

  The tears fall. She hasn’t been yelled at like that in a long time. Draco pulls her out of the chair and wraps his arms around her. She breaks into deeper sobs, feeling ridiculous, but what Casper said hurt.

  “I told you he was scared,” Draco says in her ear. His arms feel safe and warm. Of course, his hugs are perfect, too.

  “Of what?”

  “Life. The world. You.”

  “Why would he be scared of me?”

  He laughs and steps back. “He idolizes you, you know that, right? Everything he does goes back to his feelings for you and the promises he made to Atticus.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know he’s been watching you for years—and I don’t mean that in a creepy way. You’ve been a window to the world for him, a gorgeous, strong, smart, and capable woman. He’s never been around a woman like you before and that has to be intimidating. I know it is for me.”

  She uses her sleeve to wipe away the tears. “Shut up. First of all, Casper’s never been around any women so it can’t just be that. And I call bullshit on you thinking I’m intimidating.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” she says, feeling instantly vulnerable. “I’m not strong and I’m questioningly capable. I eat sugar all day and I can’t keep my room clean. I’ve got a task force on my ass and let Demetria tear up the city. Even the people in the Swamp don’t want my help anymore. Casper just dropped the f-bomb about ten times and accused me of collecting Lost Boys and maybe he’s right? Maybe that is what I’m doing?” She inhales. “In short, I’m a hot mess.”

  He sets his gray eyes on her and looks her up and down. The action makes her skin itch even without him touching her. He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m calling bullshit back. The city needs you. Casper needs you and most of all, all of us Lost Boys need you.”

  “Uh, did Mr. Perfect just swear?”