Nebulous: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (Dragon's Creed Book 2)

by Katie French

  Slowing down as I reached the top of the steps, I roved my gaze all around the lighthouse and the living area, but I didn’t see anyone. I took a few steps toward the parking area where Dad’s Jeep stood dusty and forlorn next to my Mustang. The tall lighthouse’s shadow fell on the cars, muting their color. The moon was rising brightly, but still didn’t help hide the fact that, once more, I’d neglected to light the wick at the appointed time. Crap.

  I took another step forward, my nerves in knots, missing the thud of the scabbard against my back. As much as I’d like to, I couldn’t walk around town wearing a frickin’ sword. Office Yaeger would probably burn me as a witch or something. So the sword had stayed secure back on Mirror Island.

  My eyes spotted something that stopped my rambling thoughts. Past the Jeep, the long bed of a truck I didn’t recognize stuck out.

  “They’re still here,” I whispered, my heart pattering.

  Santiago pointed at his nose, made a sniffing sound, then gestured toward the space between the living area and lighthouse.

  I leaned over to one side to get a better look. A sudden flash of light illuminated the passage for an instant, giving me the glimpse of a tall, dark stranger.

  “Hey!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

  Some guy I’d never seen was taking pictures of my house. If that wasn’t creepy and stalkerish, I didn’t know what else would qualify. I thought for a moment about being scared but if someone tried to mess with us, one of the boys would probably just eat or squash him.

  As if he were taking a stroll in the park, the man moved into the open. The boys took their positions by my side. The creep slipped a phone into his back pocket, then put on a smile that could have charmed the pants off any decent middle-aged woman.

  “Hello,” he said in a relaxed tone. “You must be Lila McCarty.”

  The man was tall, well over six feet. He appeared to be thirty-something with wide shoulders that made it clear he worked out. He wore a leather jacket despite the heat, faded jeans with a few holes, and heavy harness boots. His hair was cropped. In fact, it was shorter than his stubble. Something malicious twinkled in his eyes, as if he knew something I didn’t.

  “Who are you?” I demanded.

  “I’m Jimmy Foster. Webb said I should stop by to check out the place.”

  “Mr. Webb?” I repeated dumbly, heart sinking. The horrible old man had sent this guy to intimidate me, to let me know he didn’t intend to give me the lighthouse keeper job, despite my timely application.

  “Yeah, Webb. City council fat guy. Sweats like a pig. I’m sure you know him.” His mouth cocked to one side in a satisfied smile.

  “I know the one,” Santiago said. “I’ve seen him around town. Hard to miss.”

  My elbow poked Santiago in the stomach. He let out a humph.

  I narrowed my eyes at this Jimmy character. One had to assume Mr. Webb didn’t know this guy was so fond of him.

  “Regardless,” I said. “It’s not polite to go around people’s houses, taking random pictures like a creeper.”

  “Oh, they’re not random. They’re quite on point, actually. Weeds, loose pavers, crumbling mortar… rattling doorknobs,” he said this last bit suggestively.

  Fang took a step forward, thrusting his chin. “Just so you know,” he said. “Doorknobs aren’t what keep this place safe from trespassers.”

  Jimmy stared down his nose at Fang. Santiago and Ki stepped forward, too, their gazes practically shooting death rays. Santiago’s shoulders quaked, and I worried he might lose it and shift. I couldn’t allow this idiot to become dragon food—no matter how appealing the idea.

  I pushed past and in front of the boys, stretching to my full five feet and six inches. Super intimidating. “I believe you’re done here.” Extending a hand toward his truck, I gave him a fake smile.

  “Yeah, I am,” he agreed. “My task was certainly easier than I thought. Webb will like my proposal, I think. I understand you and I are competing for the same job.”

  Crap! Just as I’d thought.

  And what did he mean by proposal? Was I supposed to do one of those? God, I was so clueless.

  “May the best man win,” he said with a chuckle as he turned to leave, his heavy boots crunching gravel.

  “Or woman!” I yelled awkwardly.

  His truck roared to life, then settled into the rumbling of a diesel engine. As he drove away, he blew the horn and waved backward, his headlights shining brightly on the road.

  Santiago flipped him the bird and cursed in Spanish.

  My fists shook at my sides. I felt like such an idiot. I was going to lose the warden’s lair and the house because I was an ignorant teenager who knew nothing about “clenching the job.”

  Tears stung in the back of my eyes, but I refused to cry. I stomped toward the lighthouse, pulling the key out of my pocket. The least I could do was light the wick when I was supposed to.

  “Lila, are you okay?” Ki asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Maybe we could—”

  Santiago cut him off. “Let her go.”

  I opened the heavy wooden door into the lighthouse, grabbed the kerosene can, and climbed the 184 steps to the top. This time, I didn’t play any games as I went, didn’t count the steps or pretend to be Rapunzel. I only thought of Dad and how I would explain my incompetence to him. He would never forgive me.

  Of course, I knew that wasn’t true. He wouldn’t give a rat’s rear end as long as we were together, but imagining him shaking his head in disappointment made me feel better.

  After doing my job, I sat on the catwalk on top of the lighthouse, my feet sticking out through the spaces in the railing and dangling off the edge. The beam of light traveled around, illuminating the lake’s surface. Wind blew dark strands of hair that had come loose from my ponytail. I had shed a few tears for Dad while I worked on trimming and lighting the wick, but the breeze had dried them on my cheeks. The evening sky stretched back until it dipped and kissed the horizon.

  “Some view,” Santiago said, stepping out onto the catwalk. He sat next to me, then stuck his feet through the railing. His leg pressed against mine, skin to skin, since we both wore shorts.

  At another moment, the contact would have made me self-conscious, but I was too immersed in my own thoughts for more than a cursory glance at his muscular thighs.

  Placing my chin on one of the railing’s metal bars, I said nothing.

  Santiago wrapped an arm around my back, then pulled me in gently. I rested my head on his shoulder, my eyes lost in the distance.

  “We’ll find him, amor,” he said. “Te lo prometo.” His deep voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke his promise, soothing me.

  As we stared silently toward the lake, his fingers made circles on my bare shoulder. At first, the motion was only comforting, but after a couple of minutes, his touch changed slightly. I couldn’t tell exactly how, just the way his skin slid against mine had acquired an alluring quality.

  Pulling my head away from his shoulder, I gazed up past his glasses and into his big brown eyes. A certain vulnerability that caught me off guard flitted across his face, but was quickly replaced by confidence.

  “Were those puppy-dog eyes you were giving me, Santiago Alcon?” I asked jokingly.

  “And what if they were?” he said, his stare diving deep into mine. A challenge.

  I didn’t know what to say. Santiago loved to tease me with insinuating comments, but I never imagined all his banter could mean more.

  “What if I’ve been… thinking of you and…” he slid his hand from my shoulder down the length of my arm, “… tus labios.”

  He looked down at my mouth. Damn it! Why hadn’t I paid more attention in Spanish class? Labios? What in the hell did that mean? Mouth? No. Lips! That was it. He’d been thinking about my lips?

  “Would you object to that?” he asked.

  My gaze zeroed in on his lips. They were full, the top one tilting upward ever so slightly. He
ran his tongue over them, leaning forward.

  Would I object to kissing Santiago? If he’d asked me yesterday, I would have shoved him and told him to stop messing with me. But my reaction was completely different now. My heart thudded, my mouth tingling with anticipation—two things that hardly counted as objections.

  Before I knew it, my hand was on his face, my thumb tracing the line of his sculpted jaw. I’d been attracted to Tom for a long time, but I couldn’t deny I found Santiago extremely attractive, too. His self-assurance, his constant good humor, and not to mention his handsome face and amazing body were impossible to ignore. I had taken notice many times, even though I’d tried not to.

  And right now, he seemed like a fine escape from all my worries.

  It should have bothered me that Tom and I had kissed only two weeks ago and now I was ready to kiss another guy, but the truth was that it didn’t. Since the day Tom rescued me from his mother’s cave, he and I had barely talked. It seemed that every time we tried, we ended up arguing. We both had too much to deal with, big problems that tangled with each other like weeds at the bottom of the lake. It was all too heavy.

  But this—Santiago with his tousled brown curls and moist lips—felt light and easy. No complications. No brooding.

  “No,” I finally said. “I wouldn’t object at all. As a matter of fact…”

  Leaning forward, I tilted my face slightly. Santiago’s breath caught, but he recovered quickly. Without breaking eye contact, he cupped the back of my head and pressed his lips to mine.

  His kiss was perfect, gentle, and tentative. Once more, not what I was expecting. I had imagined fierce and reckless, but this was thoughtful. His lower lip brushed against mine, whisper soft. My eyelids fluttered closed. I held my breath, and time seemed to stand still.

  He pulled me closer, slipping a hand around my waist. Our bodies angled awkwardly toward each other as we learned the exact shape of each other’s lips. Heat traveled through my veins, and everything seemed forgotten for a glorious moment. My fingers raked through his curls, discovering they were silky soft.

  His tongue touched the corner of my mouth, and I was ready to lose myself in that one kiss until Ki’s voice broke through my addled senses.

  Santiago and I pulled apart, both breathless. We stared straight ahead at the dark horizon, unsure of what to do with our hands.

  “Guys, come down,” he shouted from inside the lighthouse.

  “What is it?” I asked after clearing my throat.

  “Just come,” Ki insisted.

  “Okay, coming,” I shouted back.

  Santiago and I exchanged a nervous smile, then headed back inside. Ki was already running back downstairs, footsteps pounding heavily. Fearing something was wrong, we peeled after him, taking the steps two at a time.

  We burst out the door, panting and looking right and left.

  Ki and Fang stood outside, shirtless and dripping sweat as if they’d been working out. Fang held a rake in one hand, striking a pose that said, I’m a man who gets things done. Two plumped compost bags sat behind him.

  “What…?” I started to ask.

  “We ordered pizza,” Ki said, pointing toward the house. “I also made coffee. A large pot. C’mon.”

  “What is this?” I pointed toward the brown compost bags.

  “Oh, nothing,” Fang said, throwing the rake on top of the bags. “Just a few weeds we pulled out. Tomorrow we’ll fix the pavers, but right now I’m hungry.” He patted his very defined, very amazing eight-pack.

  At a loss for words, I stepped forward and wrapped him a tight hug. I squeezed him so hard I felt the entirety of his muscled body press against mine. A flush rushed into my cheeks when I found myself enjoying his solidity.

  I jumped away, smiling like an idiot.

  Fang rolled his shoulders and inhaled, giving me an intense, questioning look.

  God, what is wrong with me? I’m like a horny teen boy!

  “Pizza,” I exclaimed. “And coffee! Sounds fantastic.” I whirled and headed toward the house, ignoring Ki’s shirtless torso as I moved around him, wondering if a gallon of coffee could douse my overactive imagination.

  Chapter Three

  I slept the whole night through for the first time in weeks. When I woke, my head was filled with cotton and my mouth tasted like I’d been gargling pennies all night.

  Male voices murmured below my bedroom, and the smell of coffee wafted up the loft stairs. For a fleeting moment, I thought it was Dad starting the morning brew. As I blinked away sleep, though, I remembered. Dad was gone. The boys were downstairs.

  Judging from the harsh daylight sifting through my curtains, I’d slept late. Usually, I was up at seven, training, running, and generally abusing my body in an attempt to be ready for Tara Palmer. I practiced wielding my sword. Ran up and down the beach. Wrestled with the guys. I tried using my warden powers, failing every time—until yesterday. Maybe I was onto something.

  But now, the warm June sun said it was midmorning at best.

  I sat up, reaching for my phone. Ten o’clock. The blank call and text logs were a jab under the ribs. No family or friends, except for those downstairs. It was better that way. Then they couldn’t get tangled in this messed-up revenge plot I called my life.

  I stood, pulling on the most presentable clothes from the floor before raking my hair into a ponytail. A shower would have to wait. Though I should at least brush my teeth, considering last night’s make-out session might continue.

  Santiago. I thought of his silken curls slipping through my fingertips, of his lips on mine. I thought kissing him would be simple, but in the light of day, it felt like the most complicated thing in the world.

  As I neared the stairs, I heard the boys at the kitchen table talking about me. Hunkering at the top step, I settled quietly and let their words trickle my way.

  “…if she doesn’t get the job, we lose the lair. And what then? We’re out on our posteriors.”

  It was Fang’s voice, deep and rumbling. What did he mean we were out? Were they thinking of moving in with me? Santiago, Ki, and Fang had all been staying on Mirror Island, while Tom was still at his house, but they wanted to live here? I thought about the heated kiss with Santiago and the feelings I still had for Tom. How awkward would that be, bumping around my tiny bungalow with four large males?

  “Cut her some slack. She’s working her tail off for a species that isn’t even her own,” Santiago said, sounding groggy.

  “She’s the warden,” Fang retorted. “It’s her job.”

  “But wardens are normally trained. Her mom died. Show some compassion, asshole,” Santiago snapped back.

  “It’s too early to fight,” Ki added in. “We need to support her. Protect her.”

  “That’s what we’re doing,” Santiago shot back. “We should try my idea.”

  “Your idea is stupid. And we can’t keep her safe if she won’t listen. You know how stubborn she is. Pigheaded. It’s like arguing with us is her favorite hobby besides chopping at things with that sword of hers.”

  I sat up at this. It was Tom’s voice. He was here? Did he come back just to throw some shade?

  “She’ll listen,” Santiago said. “I think my idea will work.”

  I leaned forward, wanting to know more, but the wooden stair plank under my foot gave a loud creak. The talk downstairs fell silent.

  They knew I was up. Busted.

  Pulling my hair out of the ponytail and giving my clothes a quick rumple—which, let’s be honest, wasn’t even necessary—I tromped down the stairs.

  All four sets of eyes watched me descend.

  Yawning, I blinked at them. “Oh man, guys, I literally just woke up. Where you here all night?” They exchanged glances across the kitchen table. Fang got up, offering me his chair and a steaming mug of coffee. Pickles jumped off Ki’s lap, slunk across the tabletop, and settled into mine. I stroked his head and sipped the coffee, meeting each boy’s eyes in turn. When I got to Tom, his gaze dar
ted away.

  What did that mean? I swore he was more temperamental than Pickles.

  Leaning against the counter, Fang was the first to speak up. “Ki and I fixed the pavers, and Santiago doused the lighthouse lamp and did some tidying up. We can tackle the rest of the list later.”

  “We’ll get this place shipshape,” Ki said, smiling. Somehow, he looked freshly showered and shaved, his black hair perfect as always.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Really. This is too much, guys. I appreciate it.”

  They nodded politely, all except Tom. His eyes were on Pickles, his expression sullen.

  Santiago cleared his throat. “Lila, when you’re ready, I really think we should try my idea.” His face was expectant, almost giddy.

  “I don’t like it,” Tom interjected. “It’s too risky.”

  “Everything is too risky,” Santiago snapped back. “This is nothing compared to the cave.”

  “If I recall, you were conveniently unconscious in the cave,” Tom said darkly.

  “If you’ve come back just to be a dick, you can slither off into the woods again.” Santiago’s eyes flashed behind his glasses.

  Tom’s fist thumped on the table as his eyes began to pulse a dangerous blue.

  “My head is pounding,” I said, holding it. “Please, let’s just take it down a notch. What is your idea, Santiago?”

  His white teeth flashed in a daring smile. “It’s much better if I show you.”

  When we pulled up to the scenic overlook, I glanced over at Santiago and then at the three large guys crammed into the backseat of my Mustang.

  We’d driven an hour and a half north on tree-lined roads into the middle of nowhere. Northern Michigan was known for its beauty—pristine waterways and rock formations. Giant pine forests stretched for miles all around. Birds twittered from branches. A floral scent hung on the air. The day was warm, but not too hot, perfect for spending some time out in the woods. I just wasn’t sure why we’d need to drive all the way up here when we had Mirror Island to train on. Santiago had been anything except forthcoming.