by Tate James
“Right. Got it. Pick off the stray ones.” Holy fuck, I was exhausted. There was no way in hell that I was letting some reanimated fucks kill off my new husbands though. As much as I was loathe to admit it, they were seriously growing on me—and not just because they fucked like demons.
Digging deep into my elemental powers, I created basketballs of fire and lobbed them at some of the more slow-moving corpses, sending them up in flames. I figured since Billy was out of commission, fire was going to be the most beneficial here, and it definitely seemed to be slowing them down.
There had to be a better way though. The zombies were still clawing their way up from the sewer, and who knew how many more my bio dad had down there to come at us? Max—I mean Warden—was the only one of us at full strength and there was no possible way he could take on this many magically driven corpses alone.
What had Grams said about my bio dad's necromancer powers? He was a spirit, just like I was, so surely it must be possible for me to tap into the same power? Maybe if I could, it might be possible to stop this onslaught of rotting flesh before it got any further out of hand. As it was, bystanders had begun screaming in terror, and while I watched, a zombie grabbed hold of an unsuspecting civilian and bit a massive chunk right out of the man’s neck. The blood spray traveled straight through my incorporeal body and I thanked fuck I was still in spirit form.
I needed to multi-task. Standing there like a plonker while my guys battled for their lives wasn't helping, so I split my focus in two. With one hand, I formed and threw fireballs while simultaneously digging deep into my mind and searching for the magic that was uniquely my own.
Wielding the other elements was coming easily to me, and I suspected it was because of my bond with the guys. Wielding my own didn't seem to come with an instruction manual though.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I muttered under my breath, fighting the urge to shut my eyes as had become my habit when trying magic. Now was not the time to take my eyes off the road.
“Watch it!” Warden yelled, slamming a lightning bolt into the zombie that was a scarce foot from biting a chunk out of my calf muscle. “You need to pay more blinking attention, Smokey!”
“Sorry,” I muttered, my heart thundering. Holy shit, that'd been close. I hadn't even noticed that I'd turned solid again! Unsurprising though, given how quickly my energy and magic were depleting. It might've been easier to use magic while in that form, but it sure as hell was difficult to stay in it.
Sucking in a deep breath, I hurled a couple more fireballs, then as quick as I could screwed my eyes shut to reach for my spirit magic with both mental hands.
The magic responded like an old lover, leaping into my grip and engulfing me in a rush of adrenaline and excitement, giving me a little boost to keep going.
My eyes flew open again and locked onto my target. The zombie I'd chosen was just crawling from the nearest manhole, and was still down on all fours when I turned the force of my magic on him … or her … It was really hard to tell with all the soupy decaying flesh dripping from the person's remains.
The moment my magic hit, I saw a reaction. The zombie froze, stiffened, then locked its gleaming eyes on me. Inside my head I could feel its consciousness, like an extension of my own that I could will to act as I pleased. Experimentally, I pushed another thread of magic into the corpse, and felt a satisfied grin slide over my face when the zombie obeyed my command and twirled in a circle like some sort of macabre ballerina.
“Guys, I think I've got this!” I tried to project my voice out to my lovers but it just squeaked out in a weak sounding whisper. Fucking hairy dingo balls, I was almost tapped out. This needed to end now.
In one massive sweep, I shot my spirit magic out to every corpse within a fifty yard radius and prayed it would be enough. The consciousness of the entire horde crammed into my head all at once and I screamed.
The pain was like nothing I'd ever experienced. It felt as though my brain was being shredded with a rusty cheese grater and deeper, toward the back of the swarm was something dark, evil, and very strong.
Bio Dad.
His malevolent presence tapped at my mind, like he was knocking on a door, but I shoved him aside. I barely had the strength to stand, let alone have a little mental chat with the evil being who had sired me and was currently trying to kill me. Disable the zombies. That was my only concern.
Sending out my will to some seventy reanimated corpses sent pain ripping through me like someone was scooping out my insides with a spoon, then pouring lighter fluid in the gaps and setting me alight. My knees buckled and I crashed to the concrete but didn't for a second let my focus waver.
STOP!
I was all I could think of. Thankfully, that one simple order was all that was required and as I watched, all seventy-three (I could count them in my brain) zombies paused, stared straight at me, then crumpled to the ground in lifeless sacks of bones and rotting flesh.
Seconds after they dropped, so too did I.
In my dream, I was back in college. Max, Britt, and I were all laying on the grass outside my dorm and laughing about something Britt had just said—something pervy, obviously. While she chattered, acting out a scene from her wild night, Max met my eyes and the world around us faded.
“You're so beautiful, Smokey,” he whispered, tucking a stray curl behind my ear then trailing his fingers down my jaw.
“Max,” I sighed, leaning into the warmth of his palm and embracing the rush of affection, lust, and even love as it coursed through me. Why had I run from this man? He was my soulmate. Or one of them at any rate.
“Baby doll, you need to wake up now. Everyone's flippin' worried about you.” His hazel eyes were sad, and I could see bottomless depths of pain in them. Deep down, I knew I was the cause of all that hurt.
“What are you going on about?” I smiled at him and glanced over at Britt, still reenacting an argument she'd had with someone at a bar the night before. “I'm awake, here with you, where I should be. I never should've left you …”
Max's beautiful eyes tightened a little as he flinched. The wound was obviously still as raw for him as it was for me.
“Well, you did. Unfortunately no supernatural has the power to turn back time, as far as we know, so we just need to deal with life as it is now.” His tone was short and clipped, and he made to pull away from me.
Grabbing his hand, I forced his gaze back to my face.
“Max, please don't pull away. I've missed you like you couldn't possibly imagine.”
“Trust me, Smokey,” he said with a bitter smile, “I can imagine. And more. Now you need to wake up before your new husbands lose their ever loving minds.”
“Will you be there when I do?” I asked in a small voice. All the hurt and regret I'd carried with me for so many years was as fresh as the day it'd all happened, and when Max shook his head, I swear I heard my heart crack in two.
“No. I won't. Just … don't get yourself killed and we'll all be fine.” Max forcefully withdrew his hand from my tight grip and stood up. The sun was behind him, so I had to squint to try and make out his face. “Be seeing you, Smokey.”
“Max!” I yelled as he turned and walked away from me. “Please, Max! Don't leave me! I'm sorry … I'm so fucking sorry!” Tears were streaming down my face as I watched him leave and knew he didn't hear me as I whispered, “Max, I love you …”
“Hey, Blossom.” George's gentle voice reached my ears as the vision of Max's retreating form faded and was replaced by the pink and white roses of Gram's guest bedroom.
“George?” I murmured, blinking a couple of times to try and clear my double vision. Had that been a dream? Or something else? “Where's Max?”
“He's …” George grunted a noise that sounded pissed off. “He's sorting some things out.”
“Oh.” I sat up and swiped a hand over my face where I could feel tears still running down my cheeks. “Was I, um … did I talk in my sleep?”
George slid his ha
“Oh,” I said again, sucking in a deep breath to pull myself together. I was not the kind of girl that cried over a man. Not then, not now, not ever. What the hell was wrong with me? I blamed it on the zombies.
“Come on, let's go downstairs so the guys can see you're okay,” George suggested, hopping off the bed and holding out a hand to me. “You've been out for almost three days, so we were all really worried about you. The healer said you'd be fine, but …”
“Three days?!” I exclaimed, gaping at him in shock. “Christ, no wonder I need to pee like a goddamn fucking waterfall.” Swinging my legs out of the bed, I went to stand but wobbled like a little old lady and George caught me.
“Um … help me to the loo?” I asked and he grinned down at me, his teeth a gleaming white against the bronze of his skin. Fuck me, my husbands were sexy.
“It'll be my pleasure, Blossom,” he chuckled and swept me up bridal style to carry me.
“I said help not carry, George,” I muttered, but quietly loved how these men kept picking me up like a doll. I tried not to psychoanalyze the reasons behind that. In my own mind, I was still a badass bitch.
“I know, but I wanted to carry you. Is that okay?” He tilted his head to the side, actually checking my permission as he kicked open the door and started down the hallway to my bathroom.
“I suppose …” I murmured, not wanting to give in too easily. As we entered the main bathroom, the same one that had started out this whole mess back when my drains just needed cleaning, my jaw dropped.
“George, what the …”
“Oh yeah. We remodeled your bathroom while we were waiting for you to wake up.” George looked supremely pleased with himself. “Charlie felt bad about the way everything had gone down, with the whole tree roots situation and whatnot, so he let us go a bit crazy on the fixtures. Do you like it?”
When George said they'd gone a bit crazy, he was grossly understating things. The bathroom looked like something out of a fucking palace!
“Is this … how is this even possible?” I gaped. My main bathroom was big, yes, but this was … enormous.
“We knocked out the wall into the next bedroom and expanded. You didn't need that many bedrooms anyway.” George shrugged, placing me down carefully on the countertop beside the sink.
Jesus fuck. That was a lot of work to get done in three days. Guess using their supernatural powers for construction work was a smart idea. I supposed that was how Joan's men had managed to buy that massive fucking house, getting big jobs done in a fraction of the time like that. And the quality of the work, well it was exceptional. Holy hell.
“Right.” I was a little at a loss for words. They'd installed a shower big enough for seven, with jets and rainfall roses all over the place, as well as a bench running down one side that I just knew I'd be fucking someone on sooner or later. Most impressive though was the tub—if it could even be called a tub. It was more of a swimming pool or oversized hot tub with a legitimate waterfall cascading into the jasmine scented water.
“I thought maybe you might feel like taking a bath,” Reg said, leaning in the doorway and running his eyes all over me. For once, his gaze wasn't predatory and lust filled, but instead full of concern.
“We felt you wake up, so I ran the bath …” he trailed off as a blush stained his cheeks. Evidently this caring, considerate Reg was new to him as well.
“That's the sweetest fucking thing …” I smiled and watched as his blush deepened. I'd let it go for now, the last thing I wanted to do was embarrass him into never being sweet again.
“I just need to pee and then want to hear everything that happened after I passed out, if that's okay?” I raised my eyebrows at the two elementals and they just nodded and stared back at me. “So … if I could have a moment?”
Yes, I was aware that I had recently let four men publicly fuck my brains out, but I was nowhere near ready to pee in front of them. Some things just needed to stay private.
Reg rolled his eyes and George chuckled, but they both left the bathroom so I could sort out my bursting bladder in peace.
They obviously didn't go far though because seconds after I'd pulled up my panties and flushed, they were right back in the massive bathroom with me. Someone must've cleaned me up and dressed me after the zombie attack because I was in just a pair of bat printed knickers and an oversized t-shirt that smelled distinctly of Billy. Not to mention there was no elemental semen crusted to my inner thighs, and considering the state I'd been in prior to passing out … shudder.
“So fill me in,” I prompted as I washed my hands out of habit.
“Get in the bath first and we will,” Reg growled, a tiny sliver of lust back in his voice as he leaned on the wall. Cocking a brow at him flirtatiously, I slowly dragged the t-shirt over my head, then dropped my bat panties.
“Not joining me?” I teased, turning my back on them to step into the steaming water. The tub was only raised a couple of steps off the ground, but then sunk much deeper, so I was fully submerged up to my neck as I sat on the little ledge inside.
“Don't tempt me,” Reg muttered and George whacked him with the back of his hand.
“Leave her be, Reg, you horn-dog. Ari's been through a lot lately, without you trying to stick your dick in her every chance you get.” George rolled his eyes, but the look he gave me said he was seriously considering joining me himself. Goddamn bloody sexy husbands were going to be the death of me, but luckily the water was deep enough to obscure my rock-hard nipples as I fantasized about fucking them all here in this tub.
“Really?” Billy asked with a voice so dry it could probably mop up the flood between my legs. Metaphorically of course, given I was in a tub full of water, but if I wasn't … well let's just say my sink would be overflowing.
“You're just going to stand there and let our wife wash her own hair?”
Billy yanked his t-shirt off and threw it on top of my own discarded clothes, followed by his pants, before sliding into the hot water with me.
“Honestly, some elementals these days,” he muttered under his breath as he glided through the water to assess all the options for bath products. There was a huge assortment of different bottles lined up on a low shelf at one end of the tub, and I was curious to see what he came back with.
“We were letting her have some time unmolested by all of our raging hard-ons,” George sighed, rolling his eyes at Billy and folding his arms over his smooth bronze chest. We were no longer in public, so he obviously didn't need to wear a shirt anymore.
“Uh-huh,” Billy muttered, clearly not really listening. “Sure.”
“You were telling me what happened after the zombies?” I prompted, dipping my head back to wet my hair and sighing in pleasure at the warmth of the water. Billy glided back over to me and moved so he was behind me, his knees on either side of my waist as he squirted a pile of shampoo into one hand and began lathering up my hair.
“Ugh, yes. The fucking zombies.” Reg grimaced. “They were fuckin' foul. That smell. After you hit them with your spirit whammy, they all just dropped like puppets with their strings cut. You and Billy were unconscious and there were half decomposed corpses fucking everywhere so … we grabbed you both and ran.”
He shrugged, nice and loose and easy, his Sailor Jerry tattoos rippling over the corded perfection of muscles in his arms and shoulders.
“You just ran?” I repeated, stunned.
“Billy, what the hell are you doing?” Shane snapped, also entering the bathroom and giving Billy a glare that could skin a cat. “That's not how you wash a woman's hair!”
Throwing his clothes off, Shane joined us in the tub and grasped me by the waist. He dipped me back to rinse the shampoo Billy had already applied, then turned me to straddle the fire elemental’s waist while he applied a fresh dose of shampoo to my hair, rubbing and massaging my scalp like a fucking professional hairdresser.
“Yes,” George replied to my question, after a bit of a pause watching me get my hair washed between two naked men. “We ran; we had no choice. The incubi and succubi were left to clean up the mess of rotting bodies, and COCS handled crowd control to erase the public's memories. It doesn't do the supernatural world any favors to have people knowing about us.”
“Makes sense,” I murmured, then groaned in pleasure as Shane's magical fingers massaged out the tension that I'd apparently been carrying in my scalp. Fuck me. Who knew getting your hair washed could be such a damn turn-on? I clearly wasn't the only one who thought so as Billy's pierced pipe was sitting firm between us, and Shane's was bumping my ass. “So, um, do we, uh …” Forming logical and coherent thoughts was not coming easily to me in that moment. “Do we know why the demons tried to drain us in the first place?”
“Considering they killed the entire COCS delegation that went over to pay Adonis and Rachel a visit, it's hard to say,” Reg said as he leaned over and put his hands on the edge of the tub. I was pretty sure he'd emphasized the word hard.
“Where's Gram?” I managed to choke out, and yelped as she appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, scrambling away from the, uh, double copper pipes below the water. That just proved it right there—clearly I was magically drugged at the club if the sight of my dead grandmother hadn't shaken me out of my sexual reverie.
“Right here, Duckie,” she said, covering her eyes with one wrinkled semi-see-through hand. “If you wanted to speak with me, perhaps you might've put some knickers on first?”
“Here she goes again,” Billy murmured trying to drag me back onto his lap. “Talking to dead people.”
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