Table of Contents
Her Immortal Harem Book Two
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Her Immortal Harem Book Two
Savannah Skye
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Introduction
The stunning conclusion of Her Immortal Harem, Book One!
I was called on by the gods to complete six tasks, a job with only two potential outcomes:
Save the world, or…not.
The entire human race rests on my shoulders, and I’ve got to admit, I’m not exactly stoked about it. So far, I’ve been handling it pretty well. Using my street smarts and my skills as a con artist to complete the tasks…barely. But things are getting trickier by the day and there is one god in particular who is dead set on me failing. Not to mention, I’ve got this cadre of dead-sexy demigods who are supposed to help me, but are distracting as hell.
The clock is ticking, and time is running out. I hope I have what it takes to get the job done, because the alternative? Sucks, big time.
Chapter 1
Beep...
Somewhere at the edge of hearing.
Beep...
It was accompanied by a faint whirring, both of them oddly clinical sounds.
Beep...
Beyond them there was a hush so pronounced that you could actually hear it, as if the silence itself was a noise.
Beep...
I was lying down.
Beep...
That seemed to be all I was aware of for the moment, which was a little disconcerting.
Beep...
As the beeping and whirring continued at its own steady, relentless pace, I tried to piece my mind and my life back together one fact at a time, building a composite picture of who I was, where I was and how the hell I had gotten here.
My name was Cat Cain. I was twenty-seven years old. I had a foster brother named Remi. My mom was in a home for the mentally ill and had been there for the last fifteen years. I made my living, alongside Remi, as a grifter and I was very good at it. I was unmarried.
And, oh yeah, my father was Dolos, the ancient Greek god of trickery and deception who had abandoned my mother before I was born and who had now volunteered me for a mission to save humanity from the wrath of some of his fellow gods, by completing a series of tasks laid down by Zeus. I was assisted in this venture by Dolos's minions, Alexei, Nico and Christoph, who were all “human effigies” built by Dolos himself. Annnnd I had slept with two of them and flirted with the third.
Two things struck me at once about this rough appraisal of my life. To start with, the first part seemed a whole hell of a lot more believable than the second. Secondly, none of it gave any real clue as to where I was now or what I was doing wherever “here” turned out to be. Unless, of course, I had joined my mother in a hospital for the mentally ill and the memories of my divine ancestry were just a manifestation of that illness.
That seemed like the most reasonable possibility. And yet, of all the things I was sure of - which were few in number right at that point - the figures of Alexei, Nico and Christoph loomed with a granite certainty. I was sure they existed. I was sure my father was the god Dolos. I was sure I was supposed to be saving mankind.
Which was a shame because I didn't seem to be doing a very good job of it at the moment.
I took a deep breath and instantly regretted it as a sharp pain flared up somewhere about my rib cage. The pain, in turn, triggered a memory.
For the love of fuck, I’d been stabbed.
That was right. I had stormed out of the apartment belonging to my father, where I and my three male companions had been staying, after learning that they had been responsible - albeit inadvertently - for driving my mother mad. I had left without any real idea of where I was going but knowing that I could not stay there with them. Just the memory of that betrayal was a worse pain than which was currently throbbing in my chest. So I had left, but I had barely gotten a block away before I turned down an alley, someone had come up to me, there had been a sharp sensation, and then only darkness.
How close had it been?
Or had I died and this beeping, whirring place was heaven. Or hell. Or perhaps limbo. It had a limbo kind of vibe to it.
I forced my eyes open and took in the blank, antiseptic whiteness of a hospital room. To my right, a nurse - also blank, antiseptic and white - was checking my vitals on the whirring machine.
"Hello..." I croaked through a dry mouth.
The nurse started, looked at me, then grabbed a cup of water which she raised to my cracked lips. I choked a little as I tried to swallow - I hadn't realized how thirsty I was.
"Go easy," the nurse chided. "How do you feel?"
"Okay, I guess," I replied. "My chest hurts a bit."
"It should."
"I was stabbed."
"You had a punctured lung."
That was a hell of a thing to wake up to. "That sounds serious."
The nurse nodded, a somewhat bemused expression on her face. "Yeah. That's what we thought, too. But you seem to have made a remarkable recovery. I mean, really remarkable."
I managed to move my hand to feel under my hospital gown for the line of stitches in my side. There was pain there, but really not what I would have expected after being stabbed, let alone having a punctured lung.
"Am I on morphine or something?"
"No. You didn't seem to need it. Would you like some?"
It was tempting. I wasn't a big “drug person” but everyone always raves about how great morphine is and a girl is bound to be curious. But I just didn't feel it was necessary.
"No, I'm good."
She stared at me in quiet, head-shaking wonder. "You are, aren't you?"
"How long have I been in here?"
The nurse looked at her watch and then shook her head, as if she was still struggling to believe it. "Eleven hours."
As my thoughts became sharper, a dark cloud started to settle on my mind. "Have I had any visitors since I've been in here?"
The nurse looked away. “Several, actually."
"Could you describe them?"
I didn't need to hear her description, the fact that she blushed and bit absently at her lip told me that it had been Alexei, Nico and Christoph. Blushing, lip biting, stammering and general girlishness were all symptoms of being around them. However much I now hated them for what they had done to my mom, denying their incredible attractiveness was like arguing that the sky was red - pointless, and you only had to look to see how wrong you were.
"Your husband and his brothers," the nurse said, when she was done quietly fantasizing.
“My what, now?” I sputtered. But I’d heard her correctly. W
hat right had any of them - and I assumed it had been Alexei - to pretend that we were married? It was, of course, convenient that they had healed me - which is what I had to assume had happened - as I might otherwise have died, but even that I was struggling to reconcile with my current contempt for all three of them. It was not that I would rather have died than accepted their help but... well, I would have liked to be consulted before a decision was made.
"He's not my husband," I said sharply.
"Really?" I could see the hope in the nurse's eyes.
"He is my ex-husband and I don't want him or any of his brothers to come anywhere near me."
She nodded and hurried away to deliver this edict to the reception desk, leaving me to contemplate things. To be betrayed and stabbed in one day - and by different people - seemed like really bad luck. Last night, I had slept with Christoph. The day before, I had slept with Alexei. And this morning, they had both become my enemies, people I never wanted to lay eyes on again. Yesterday, I had been on top of the world after completing the second of the six challenges laid out by Zeus to save the world. Today, I was lying in a hospital, recovering from a stab wound that should have killed me. I dislike people who misuse the term “roller coaster ride” when describing their lives but I felt like I had earned it.
What now?
Over the years, I had made my fair share of enemies in New York City, people whose money ended up in my pockets when they strongly felt that it should have remained in their own. But I didn't think many of them would have stabbed me, they would have kicked the crap out of me. And even those who weren't above sticking a knife in would have done so face-to-face. Not out of any sense of fairness but because they would want to see my face and for me to see theirs so I knew who was doing this. The people I hang out with are unfortunately like that. It seemed far more likely that this was a third attempt on my life by one of those gods of Olympus who were pissed at me for trying to save a race which they felt had screwed up the world. It was hard to defend humanity - we had screwed up the world - but I still wanted to save it and that made me mortal enemy number one for gods like Poseidon, who wanted us all dead. Previously, I had been attacked by wolves and a possessed truck driver - this time had been a hell of a lot more personal and had come a hell of a lot closer. It was probably too much to hope that they might give up now.
I could, of course, have abandoned the tasks there and then, but that would be dooming humanity, so I would be dead anyway. Plus, I have a perverse streak in me that insists on doing what people don't want me to. So, yeah, I was carrying on with the mission and the tasks, even if now I was doing so on my own.
But before that, I felt an overwhelming need to see my mom.
Maybe it was the hospital reminding me of her. Maybe it was the fact that all this stuff had started with her encounter with my father. Or maybe it was just that I had been hurt and, no matter how old she gets, a girl always wants her mom when she's hurt. Whatever the case, I had to see her.
I pulled the IV out of my arm and got out of bed. I was feeling stronger by the second - whatever the guys had done to me had clearly done the trick - and I was fully dressed by the time the nurse returned.
"You can't leave," the nurse said.
"Why not?"
"You... you... you have a punctured lung."
"Had," I said.
"Punctured lungs don't heal this fast, they really don't."
I beat my chest like King Kong. "If I had a punctured lung, could I do that?"
The nurse looked a little flustered but then shrugged. "Technically, yes. Although, usually, you'd be lying on the ground screaming in agony and gasping for breath afterwards."
"Well, then; I know the symptoms to watch out for."
"I really don't think this is a good idea," she tried again as I made for the door.
"Then it's in line with pretty much every other decision I've made in my life."
"Wait!"
I pushed past her as she tried to stop me.
"You can't go out there yet!"
I kept going. I find it's easier to stick with your first decision rather than listening to all the reasons you shouldn't be doing it. Although, from time to time, it turns out that people were trying to stop you for a perfectly good reason.
I came to a crashing halt as I entered the waiting room and saw Alexei, Nico and Christoph seated there.
My first thought, for which I very properly hated myself, was that they looked incredibly good - as if they'd gotten more handsome in the hours since I had last seen them. My second was that they also looked in tatters. It was hard not to be touched by seeing how much my injury had affected them, their eyes were red-rimmed, their cheeks unshaven, and worry was etched into every face. For a moment, I felt a pang of sympathy accompanied by the throb of attraction I had experienced from the first time I had laid eyes on them. But in the next instant, my heart hardened, as I remembered what they had done to my mom, and what affect that had had on me.
"Cat?" Alexei saw me and sprang to his feet, followed closely by the others. Their faces were a mix of concern and relief, perhaps also tinged with hope. I wondered how much of their wrecked appearance was because of me being stabbed, and how much a consequence of how we had left things last time we had spoken. The scars of both were on me and I was not sure which hurt more.
The nurse came up behind me. "I tried to tell you,” she whispered softly.
"Doesn't matter." I could feel hot tears on my cheek. "Call security."
"Security?"
“Please. Now.”
She sprang towards a phone as I stared down the men I had taken to my heart, only to have it dashed to pieces.
"Cat?" Alexei spoke again, taking a tentative step towards me.
"Don't you dare," I snapped. My tears were flowing faster now. They would be useful but I hadn't had to force them. I was crying for what I had lost. I had allowed myself to trust them…to love them, even, and they had betrayed me. These men had taken my mother from me. They had condemned her to a life that was barely a life at all, in an institution, and the fact that I had ever had feelings for them sickened me. What sickened me more, and made the tears come all the more readily, filled with self-loathing, was that I still had feelings for them. For all that I knew, for all that I hated, that wretched attraction I had for them would not let go. The fact that I had liked them so much as people still colored how I looked at them. I hated what they had done with a fire that was only dwarfed by that which burned for my father, but for the three men themselves, my hatred would always be tempered. It was wrong, but I could not help it.
The hospital's security personnel ran in and, with tears streaming down my reddened face, I stabbed a finger at Alexei. "Him. He's the one who stabbed me. Call the police."
"Cat." Alexei made the mistake of starting towards me, and the security people threw themselves at him - after a beat of hesitation as they took in how big he was and the fact that he was backed up by two equally big friends.
The nurse was on the phone calling for back-up as all hell broke loose in the waiting room and I made for the door as quickly as I could.
This is why you don't mess with a grifter. We can be very convincing when we have to be, although, for me, this had only been half-acting.
I left the hospital minutes later, in the midst of the confusion. I had accused the guys, and Alexei specifically, of something they had not done, but I felt no guilt for it. They deserved that and more. But I also knew that they wouldn't be in custody for long. If they didn’t fight their way out of it - which they could, but probably wouldn't - then the minions of Dolos would surely be able to talk their way out. Especially as there was no evidence beyond my wild accusation and they were, in fact, innocent. If none of that counted in their favor, then I still had no concerns for them - they were one step below gods, with powers the full extent of which I didn’t know. Somehow or other, they would be fine, and then they would come looking for me. All I was doing was buying myself a lit
tle time, but right now, that seemed like a lot.
I turned my steps towards the corner where a taxi pulled up. It was late, but visiting hours or no, I needed to get across town ASAP.
Because sometimes a girl - even one as tough as nails - just needed her mom.
Chapter 2
In my head, whenever I thought of The Quiet Cloud Institution for the Mentally Ill, I pictured somewhere like Arkham Asylum, or wherever it was that they kept Renfield in Dracula. Some hideous, Victorian gothic building, surrounded by high railings, encrusted with gargoyles, and looming stark against a permanently dark sky, crisscrossed with forked lightning.
Why I pictured it this way probably says more about me than it does the place itself. I had been going there regularly since I was twelve and it had never looked anything like that. The building was squat and anonymous - one of those official buildings that could be anything from a school to a funeral parlor - the gardens surrounding it were pleasant and well kept, and the staff were unfailingly polite and helpful. If you had to have a relative spending the remainder of their life in an institution, then Quiet Cloud was probably as good as it got. Which meant shit, because no one wants that for a relative. The place could have had rainbows sprouting from its windows and it would still be, for me, a dark symbol of the grotesque unfairness that had swallowed my mom's life.
I approached, as I always did, with heavy steps, simultaneously wanting to see my mom because she was my mom, and not wanting to see her because what was left of her was barely my mom anymore. The place itself always gave me the jeebies. Just the smell of it was enough to tie my stomach in knots.
The guy on the desk waved me straight through as I came up. He'd been working there as long as I'd been going there and it occurred to me that I had probably never seen his legs, he was just a torso above a desk to me. It's strange the things your mind will wander to when you're trying to think about anything other than what you're doing. Various staff nodded to me as I walked through the pale green corridors on autopilot to Mom's room. The green color is supposed to be soothing but I've always found it nauseating. Like everything else in this place, it makes me feel sick.
Her Immortal Harem Book Two Page 1
