The Castle of Earth and Embers (Briarwood Reverse Harem Book 1)

by Steffanie Holmes

  Oh yes.

  Three guys, all touching me, all worshipping my body with their hot mouths and daring fingers. Their eyes burning with lust, with need, with the knowledge that I wanted them just as much as they wanted me.

  Another hand stroked my leg, starting from my toes and walking across my skin. The fingers weaved and danced over my skin, along my thigh. My body ached as the fingers darted closer, closer…

  “You have to choose, Maeve, luv.” Corbin. His husky voice rippled through me. He pressed his lips against my throbbing clit.

  I threw my head back and howled. The pleasure wound its way through my body, tearing along my limbs. Corbin’s tongue stroked me gently at first, growing the ache inside me. I bucked my hips towards him, begging for more. He responded by attacking me with his tongue, hammering my clit in furious strokes until I screamed, my limbs jerking and my head spinning from the force of the orgasm that tore through me.

  Flynn kissed along my neck, finding my lips again and assaulting my mouth with his. “When Corbin’s done,” he whispered, “I’m going down there. I bet you taste better than a fine Irish whiskey.”

  But Corbin didn’t stop, not even after the heat in my veins cooled. The boys continued their ministrations, their tongues and hands roaming every inch of me until the ache rose within me again, hard and eager.

  “You have to choose, Maeve.” A deep voice boomed.

  Something pressed between my legs. A hardness. I moaned and arched my hips, ready for whoever it was who wanted to take me.

  Why do I have to choose? Why can’t I have them all?

  A thick hardness thrust into me. The room swam. I cried out as it slid inside me, my body filled, my cravings sated. My whole body worshipped by an ocean of lips and hands.

  “You have to choose, Maeve.” That deep, rumbling voice again. But it wasn’t the voice of one of my boys. It was familiar, but who…

  My eyes fluttered open again, and I was staring over Flynn and Arthur and Rowan and Corbin, their naked bodies draped over me, and into the eyes of Blake, the black-clad fae who had come through the wormhole.

  He bucked his legs back, thrusting his hips forward and driving himself deep inside me. My whole body convulsed with pleasure. Oh god, the feeling of him…

  Blake’s crystal eyes caught the light of the fire, gleaming with mischief. “I told you we’d have some fun together. This version of a shag is much better, don’t you agree?”

  I bolted upright, throwing myself off the couch. I landed hard on the floor and spun around, ready to face the fae.

  My heart pounded. How had Blake gotten into the castle? How had he found his way into this… whatever it was, without my boys killing him? Was he manipulating their minds?

  I breathed hard as my eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. My bedroom came into view. I tugged my feet out of the sheets, where they’d become tangled. Yeah, I was definitely in my bedroom, the curtains drawn against the cold moon. I listened. Apart from an owl hooting outside, the house was completely silent.

  It was a dream, that’s all.

  But it had felt so real… I touched my nipple, still feeling the scrape of Arthur’s teeth against my skin. My core still ached with need of them all, and tingles ran down my legs and covered my clit from Corbin’s tongue. And inside… I ached with longing. For Blake? But that was crazy. For all of them? That was… perverted.

  You’re going mad with grief, Maeve. I rubbed my thigh, trying to get the desire out of my veins. Of course it was a dream. You may like all the guys, but you barely even know them, and no way would you want them all together like that. That’s just sick and perverted. And Blake at the end? Why the hell was he there, after he hurt Flynn like that?

  But the buzz in my body and hardness of my nipples told another story. I’d just dreamed about my first sixsome. And I liked it.

  I liked it a whole hell of a lot.

  19

  MAEVE

  I tossed and turned for a while, the vivid images and sensations of the dream still whirling around in my head. Eventually, I must’ve drifted back to sleep because I woke up the next morning to the sun streaming through my windows and the heavy weight of Obelix snoozing on top of my feet.

  Obelix jumped down and disappeared down the stairs, yowling at the top of his lungs for breakfast. I yawned and sat up, rubbing my eyes. The haze of jet lag that had hung over me the last couple of days had gone – and the numbness in my chest had slid away a little more as well, leaving me raw and a little nervous.

  I pulled on a pair of jean shorts and a cap-sleeved t-shirt and padded downstairs. Voices echoed through the castle as the guys joked with each other in what I was learning was their typical routine. I tried to follow their voices, but sound traveled weirdly in the enormous spaces and heavy-duty stone walls, and I still didn’t know my way around all the rooms. I peeked in the kitchen, and they weren’t there, although the neatly stacked dishes beside the sink and a fresh basket of vegetables told me Rowan had been at work.

  I tried the rec room, but they weren’t there, either. “Hey guys!” I called out. “I’m Dorothy, lost in the land of Oz. Help me find my way to breakfast!”

  Corbin called back. “We’re out on the porch.”

  I followed their voices through the winding halls, taking a wrong turn out into the internal courtyard where a line of visitors waited for the first tour to start, before finally locating the door that would take me out onto the sprawling porch at the back of the castle, overlooking the garden and the rolling fields and the wood, and the wild Crookshollow Forest beyond. Rowan bent over the table, setting down platters of savory muffins and scrambled eggs. Corwin handed around plates – his arm still a little stiff from where the fae had hurt him – and Arthur handed me a flute of pink Champagne.

  “I thought life couldn’t get any better than waking up to freshly baked scones,” I said, accepting the glass and taking in a deep whiff of the fresh, buttery and bacony muffins. “But you proved me wrong.”

  “We wanted to give you something special.” Arthur’s thick fingers brushed mine. “To welcome you to Briarwood. Plus Rowan informed us you don’t like tea.”

  “I don’t know how you can drink it! It tastes like dirt.” The guys laughed. “But seriously, we’ve already gone to the pub, and all those presents in my room… if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were buttering up your landlord. Do you want me to put in air conditioning or something?”

  The guys exchanged a look. Finally Corbin said, “Everyone at this table knows what it feels like to lose someone. We just want to make sure Briarwood is a safe place for you to mourn or… do whatever you need.”

  “Although, now that you mention it…” Flynn grinned, rubbing the red lattice on his face. “I always thought the castle would be much improved with a pool.”

  Four faces stared adoringly at me. I blushed, reeling in their kindness and in the news Corbin had just shared with me, that they’d all grieved for someone they loved the way I was doing now. If only they knew about the filthy dreams I’d had about them all the night before. Thank God none of them had that crazy spirit power that could see into people’s dreams.

  If spirit magic even existed. I still had my doubts. I hadn’t quite figured out how witches and elemental magic fit into my multiverse theory yet.

  Arthur swept my chair out for me, and I settled in. “Thanks, Aragorn.” I beamed, and Arthur bowed. The boys started passing plates around the table, and I helped myself to two muffins and a giant pile of scrambled eggs. Rowan even had homemade chutney (another new British word I learned) in a tiny bowl, and I dumped a glob of that on top and dived in. “So, aside from my postponed sword fighting lesson, what’s on the agenda today? More fairy-slaying?”

  Rowan looked surprised. He looked up from cutting his muffin into perfect squares. “You decided to believe us?”

  “Based on the empirical evidence I’ve seen so far, ignoring the existence of the fae is just willful ignorance. I have come up with a
n explanation of sorts that I can live with, for now. And I’m going to help.”

  “Help us?” Corbin lifted an eyebrow.

  “Yes, If you want any hope of defeating the fae, you need to take a scientific approach. And that begins with a full study of them. No offense,” I nodded to Corbin, “but those books in your library are total trash. There’s no ethnological or anthropological studies of the fae. Well, luckily, you happen to have a scientist living with you.”

  Arthur rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure you quite understand what you’re getting into. Science is all well and good, but it’s never won a war.”

  “Yes, it has, actually. Scientists have been key to massive breakthroughs and victories in numerous wars. Bayer’s invention of synthetic tire rubber kept the entire German army moving after the Allies cut off their supply of natural rubber from Southeast Asia. The invention of ultrasound was vital to detecting U-boats in World War II. The trireme made the Athenians the rulers of the sea and were imperative in their victory at—”

  “Okay, okay, okay.” Arthur held up his hands. “I’m beaten.”

  “Go on, Einstein,” Flynn leaned over the table, his fingers dancing on my hand. “Tell us what you need.”

  Hearing Kelly’s nickname for me in Flynn’s musical Irish brogue sent a wave of pleasure through my body. “Um… I’ve been working on a scientific theory that might explain the fae. Unlike other theoretical physicists, I might actually be able to test some of my hypotheses. I’d like to get some scientific instruments and set them up around the sidhe. And I’d also like to interview each of you about your experiences with the fae. No fantastical accounts,” I glared at Flynn. “Just straight up ethnographic information that I can compile into a study. And I want to see all your research on this fifth coven member.”

  Corbin looked uncomfortable. “Why?”

  “Why? Because you’re the only one who’s looked at it. You might be missing something really obvious, and a peer review will highlight that. Because if finding this witch is as important as you say, then you’ll take all the help you can get, even from a college physics dropout from Arizona.”

  Corbin glanced at Rowan, who was staring at his plate, not saying anything about as loud as a person could. I knew there was more to this “fifth” story than Corbin was letting on, and damned if I was going to let him keep it from me.

  Corbin cleared his throat. “Fine. We’ll sort all that out for you. Now, should we finish this delicious breakfast?”

  “Way ahead of you.” Arthur was already squirting a generous swirl of something called HP sauce over his eggs. He passed the bottle to me and I sniffed it. Gross. Why couldn’t Brits just use ketchup like the rest of the civilized world?

  I’d just taken a bite of the warm, cheesy muffin when an elderly woman in a black dress strode briskly across the porch toward us, a feather duster resting against her shoulder. “Master Corbin?” she called out, her voice flat and harsh. “There’s someone arrived to see you. She’s waiting in the reception hall.”

  My eyes widened. This must be the woman Arthur mentioned the other night. We have a maid? Cool.

  “Oh, thanks, Dora.” Corbin stood up. “I’ll bring her out.”

  The maid – Dora – shot me a filthy look. “Who is your guest? You don’t usually let them stay for breakfast.”

  Whoa, there’s a loaded comment. I glanced at Corbin. How many girls did he bring back to the castle? It hadn’t occurred to me before, but now that I thought of it… these guys were all smoking hot and actually genuinely nice, which was not a common combination. Girls must fall all over them. I remembered Neale flirting with them at the pub. Had Corbin slept with her? Had any of them?

  It didn’t make any sense, since I’d only met these guys two days ago and, apart from Arthur, none of them had made any indication that they wanted to take things to the places they’d gone in my filthy dream. But a possessive knot twisted in my stomach at the thought of the guys being with anyone else. Now that I was here with them, I wanted them all to myself, which was totally crazy, right?

  Right?

  Corbin wasn’t giving anything away. “Dora, this is Maeve. She’s going to be living with us from now on.”

  “And who does she belong to?” Dora frowned at me. Wow, what a cow.

  “I can speak for myself,” I said, a little frostily. “And I don’t belong to anyone.”

  “American,” Dora sniffed. She turned to Corbin. “Don’t let her steal any of the silverware.”

  “Thank you, Dora. That will be all.”

  Dora bustled away, unable to resist another loud sigh as she stomped into the house. I gave Corbin a sickening smile. “Well, she’s adorable.”

  “She’s as old as this castle, and twice as formidable. But she’s not so bad once you get to know her.” Corbin stood up. “I’d better go get Emily.”

  As soon as he left, Flynn let out a whoop. “Grumpy guts has gone, let’s get this party started.”

  “Um…” Before I knew it, Flynn had pulled a portable speaker from somewhere and plugged in his phone. A minute later, weird humping bass noises shook the table. I dropped my fork and stared at Flynn in horror.

  “I’m sorry, this is music?”

  “This album just dropped this morning. It’s this wicked drum and bass out of Dublin.”

  “Can you stick it back in?”

  Rowan snorted. I noticed he was placing each little muffin square on his tongue one at a time. I wondered how his OCD tendencies handled the irregularity of scrambled eggs.

  “Come on, Flynn,” Arthur growled. “Turn that shite off.”

  “Arthur only likes brutal Scandinavian death metal,” Flynn shot back, turning the sickening noise up another notch.

  “It’s black metal, actually,” Arthur shouted over the din, thumbing the intelligible logo on his black t-shirt. “And that’s not all I like. I’m also into folk metal, thrash metal, symphonic metal, doom metal—”

  Flynn wrinkled his nose. “Forgive me for not recognizing the diversity in your musical interests.”

  “At least metal doesn’t sound like the speaker is throwing up—”

  “Guys!”

  We whirled around. Corbin stood on the edge of the deck. Beside him, a blonde bombshell wearing the tiniest pencil skirt known to humankind shot all my boys (and I was already thinking of them as my boys) a sultry smile.

  “Emily!” Flynn dropped his speaker and rushed over to give the woman one of his customary hugs. Arthur took the opportunity to unplug the phone from the speaker, a feat for which I was eternally grateful.

  My gratefulness wore off when Arthur too rose and embraced this woman, her tiny, perfect breasts pressing against his chest. The hug lasted a few seconds longer than I expected, and jealousy flared in my chest as I wondered if they’d had some thing together.

  A shag. I reminded myself of the British term. I wonder if they’ve shagged.

  “Maeve, I’d like you to meet Emily, our family lawyer.” Corbin brought her over to the table, his eyes flashing with delight. “And your lawyer now, too.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I plastered a smile on my face. Somehow, when I imagined the person who wrote me that letter about Briarwood House, I’d pictured a middle aged, slightly round matron with a grizzled face from too many years fighting against the glass ceiling, not this graceful creature, this perfect example of feminine beauty.

  Emily shook my hand. “Maeve, it’s lovely to meet you. I’ve brought along all the papers for you to sign to officially pass Briarwood’s ownership on to you. It’s funny, but I always pictured you as a blonde. You can never tell with names in letters, can you?”

  Her greeting tugged at me, a weird annoying feeling that something wasn’t quite right. But I didn’t have time to ponder it further, not while Ms-Perfect-Tits was waiting. I extended a hand and shook it.

  “Come join us for breakfast,” I heard myself saying, plastering a fake smile on my face. “We probably have a lot to discuss about my
mother’s estate.”

  “Oh, yes, please,” Emily beamed, and slid herself into the empty chair beside Rowan, touching his arm in a familiar way that made my skin crawl. “It’s been an age since I had Rowan’s home cooking. I’m hopeless in the kitchen, too busy at work. Ooh, is that HP sauce? Arthur, you naughty boy. All right, send it this way.”

  Emily and the guys started to gossip about some dude – Ryan Raynard – who owned the adjoining property, called Raynard Hall, and was apparently this uber famous reclusive artist who hadn’t been outside in years. I shoveled down the rest of my breakfast, which now tasted like cardboard, and tried not to be such a bitch. Just because Emily’s pretty, and she knows my guys, and she’s hanging around the castle like it’s her second home, doesn’t mean that she’s slept with any of them, and even if she has, it’s not any of my business…

  I slid back in my chair, and it hit me. What was wrong with what Emily had said. She thought I was a blonde. She hadn’t recognized me. But how could that be, when Corbin had seen a picture of me that she’d shown him?

  One of them was lying to me. But was it Emily… or Corbin? And why?

  20

  ARTHUR

  I grabbed two wooden swords from the collection in the hatstand and led Maeve out into the apple orchard at the back of the garden. The orchard was hidden from view behind a high stone wall – ideal, since I didn’t want any tourists to see what we were up to. I’d made that mistake once, and the next day we had two Health and Safety inspectors up at the castle asking me about protective equipment (apparently a suit of armour wasn’t considered good enough) and if I needed a fairground licence for my “sideshow.”

  “What are those for?” Maeve asked as I handed her the sword. “This isn’t iron. I can’t hurt a fae with this.”

  “No, you can’t, but if you don’t practice with these first and learn the basics, you won’t be able to hurt a fae with the iron one, either.” I stepped back from her and held my own sword out in front of me, showing her how to grip the hilt with both hands. “This is a wooden replica of a two-handed sword of English design. Later – if you still like me – I’ll show you how to fight with a smaller, single-handed sword and shield. But two-handed is good to start with. You hold your hands here and here,” I demonstrated my grip on either end of the hilt. “This grip enables you to pivot the sword through different holds. We call these wards.”