The Fellowship: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (The Harbinger Book 2)

by Candace Wondrak

  Traveling was boring.

  There, Faith thought it. Utterly and completely boring. There was nothing worse than walking for hours on end with no destination in sight. Nothing worse than spending the nights between such walking camping on hard, rough ground. She was no good at roughing it, apparently. What she would give to be back in her grandma’s apartment with her boots kicked off and the TV on to some cheesy soap opera or telenovela, with Grumpy cuddling on her lap. And the food? Oh, she’d straight up kill someone for some good food, spices and all.

  Faith knew she was selfish for wishing and wanting such things, especially when there were other, more important things she had to worry about. Like finding the Dread King’s bones, figuring out who wanted her dead, what happened to the Ageless Blade—oh, and perhaps the most important thing, what happened to the boys in her class. She refused to believe that they were dead. She refused to believe that someone had gone through all that trouble to take a few Humans hostage. No, there had to be something else at work here. She just didn’t know what.

  Her dreams were strange and panic-inducing, but she could not remember them. The very moment she woke, Faith promptly forgot. Were they about her destiny, about the Dread King killing her? Probably. At least she wasn’t stuck in that weird waterworld anymore. At least she didn’t have to look at his smug face—and if their journey succeeded, she wouldn’t have to. If the bones weren’t together, he wouldn’t be able to rise, right?

  Regardless of how much she thought it, how often she repeated to herself defeat the Dread King, Faith couldn’t fight the mixture of feelings that rose inside her. There were three gorgeous guys around her (she refused to count Finn for anything), and all she could think of was how strangely attracted she was to the long-dead king with horns and hair that was longer than hers.

  It was messed up, she knew.

  She also knew no one would approve of her choice, of her agreement—whatever she was supposed to call this thing with Light, Cam, and Jag. A foursome would imply that they were together sexually at the same time, but that wasn’t how it was. She didn’t think the guys wanted each other at all; they only wanted her. Was it considered polygamy? Instead of being sister-wives, they were friend-husbands?

  Cara would die of shock, probably. No, definitely. She’d definitely die of shock if Faith told her how quickly she’d moved with Jag. Faith knew she should probably take it slow, try not to bite off more than she could chew, but it was hard when they stood around her so manly and all that.

  The flirty Malus. The reserved but wild Ulen. The good-natured but prone to scowling Elf. It was a good group full of hot men. Faith didn’t want to burn out just yet, especially if she was going to die. Being a good girl had never seemed less appealing. What was the point?

  No, whatever guilt she may have felt over possibly going too fast with Jag in the bath was dwarfed by her depressing realism. If she was going to die at the hands of Dracyrus, it didn’t matter what she did with her spare time, did it? No, she told herself, and she would continue to tell herself that until she was killed.

  And she knew she would be. Faith might have a decent skill set after being in the Academy for five years, but it was nowhere near the level of skill Dracyrus was sure to have after dozens of rebirths.

  Still, somehow the Harbinger beat him (or at least tied with him) each time. Faith did not believe she’d be that lucky. Then again, if she had a time machine and she went back and told herself that she was not only some important hero, but also that she’d end up with multiple boyfriends, she wouldn’t have believed that, either.

  Multiple hot boyfriends.

  And one asshole.

  It was after one particularly long jaunt, during a pee break, when Faith dramatically flung herself against a tree, sighing, “Who will carry me from here on out?” The trees grew smaller, which meant they were getting closer. A quirk of having other fragmented memories in her head—she just knew things. Some things. Anyway, the trees were now similar to the ones on Earth. Faith didn’t feel so ridiculously diminutive beside them.

  Cam, the only one who didn’t have to step away to relieve himself, was quick to say quietly, “I can, if you are tired.” His grey-painted skin seemed even darker today, as if he recently put a new coat on himself. He didn’t; it was still the same thick paint that covered his body from the first day she saw him barreling down the street to the outskirts of Springsweet. Girls on Earth would kill for makeup with that kind of longevity. He also had the same knapsack on his back, where the Dread King’s cloak was so unceremoniously stuffed into.

  “Forget him,” Jag said, adjusting his pants as he walked up. His lips curled into a smile. “I’ll do it, even if you aren’t tired.” Before she had the chance to reply—or even the chance to laugh at his serious demeanor—he rushed her, grabbed her, and basically tossed her over his shoulder.

  Faith couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “This isn’t what I had in mind,” she wheezed, gently smacking his back, the thin shirt that covered his torso. She felt Jag lower as he let her down. On her own two feet, she gave him another smack on his chest, saying, “As if that would make a comfortable journey. No, I want to be cradled like a baby, held like a precious bundle of joy—”

  Both Jag and Cam sent her confused, but still somehow attractive, expressions while Light muttered, “You’re only trying to use us because you want to be lazy.” Though he said it seriously, his mouth curved into a smile as he crossed his arms. Like he knew her so well.

  “Lazy?” Faith echoed, aghast. “I am the very opposite of lazy.”

  The one red-headed bastard that she didn’t want to see popped out of the forest, shooting her a dirty look. Unlike Jag, his zipper was already up by the time he came into view. “Is that why you have been whining this whole time?” Finn gave her a frown. His lips were not enticing. Not really.

  “I haven’t been whining,” Faith said, glancing to her guys for backup. Cam shifted on his feet while Light wouldn’t meet her eyes. Jag was the only one who looked normal, like he was on her side. But then again, Jag was Jag. He’d do anything if it meant he got to sleep beside her and kick Light out of the precious spot.

  Finn smiled. “Even your boyfriends won’t deny that, will they? A shame.” His red-haired head motioned forward. “Let’s get going. We shouldn’t waste any more time than we have.”

  Ooh, the Academy graduate was asking for a beating, Faith bristled. And not the good kind beating, either. She shot him a glare, stated “I will walk with my own feet, I guess” and stormed ahead of him.

  The nerve of that Finn, talking down to her like that. Was he ever going to not rain on her parade? Truly, it wasn’t fair that he was forced on her. Tullie literally could not have made this situation worse. It was pointless for him to be here.

  Honestly, she couldn’t believe that she used to like him. What was she thinking? Clearly, she wasn’t thinking at all. Anyone with half a brain would see that Finn was good-looking, but his good looks weren’t everything. In fact, he had no character behind his chiseled cheeks, no heart behind his muscular chest, and definitely no conscientiousness in those enhanced biceps…

  God, she was going insane, wasn’t she? Maybe it was this world. Maybe there was something in the air that released her inhibitions and made her feel more wanton, as stupid as it sounded. Because she was not like this before. A little boy crazy here and there, sure, as were most girls, but not to this extent. This was like…

  Well, it was almost a legendary horniness.

  Seething in her skin, Faith turned her head to glare at Finn, and she spotted the man ogling her freaking ass. She narrowed her eyes. “Really, Finn?”

  “What?” He didn’t even bother to move his stare as he answered her. “I’m just looking to our leader for direction.”

  Jag jostled his way next to him, practically rubbing his arm against Finn’s, causing him to sidestep the Malus. “That’s our direction, Finn. You can look over there.” He pointed at a tree they passe
d.

  Finn rolled his eyes, almost exaggeratingly so. “And why would I want to look there?”

  The tail poking out of Jag’s pants flicked in annoyance, and suddenly the Malus was walking between Faith and Finn. “There,” Jag said, “plenty of direction right here for you.” He slapped his own ass, causing Faith to stifle a laugh.

  With a sigh, Finn muttered, “Not my kind of direction.”

  The whole thing was so stupid, it was almost enough to take her mind off her impending doom. Almost.

  That night, as they made camp and huddled around the fire, Jag went hunting. It was something Light would’ve been good at, too, but the Malus kept saying he had better sense when it came to animals, like he shared intuition with them, to which Light grew miffed, but let him go all the same. He moved to sit beside Faith, his long legs putting her short ones to shame. Cam and Finn stood near the fire, having a hushed conversation as Finn tried explaining football to Cam, while Light and Faith sat a little ways away. A little privacy, though not much.

  Even though Faith didn’t like him—and he got on her nerves more often than not—she had to admit she was glad he was at least trying to fit in, that he was going along with it even though he was not a spontaneous person at all.

  Light watched Cam and Finn, whispering, “He’s irritating, but he grows on you—like a fungus.”

  Faith brought a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. What a way to put it. What an accurate way to put it. “Look at us,” she mused, bumping Light’s thin shoulder with hers. Though with the height difference, she bumped his upper arm with her shoulder. “Starting to act like a family.”

  “A family of misfits and, what did you call him?”

  “Asshole,” Faith said. “A family of misfits and an asshole.” Rolling her ankles, she was dying to take off her boots, but Murphy’s Law would dictate that the moment she did, something would attack them. Giant spiders or something.

  She had a strange thought. Did this world even have spiders? The animals were different, but the majority of stuff remained close—mammal-like creatures, bird-like animals, and insects. There had to be something in the Second that feasted on the multitude of insects around here.

  “I am,” Light started, moving his arm to hang it around her shoulder, “surprised that you were not already mated with someone from your world.” He instantly received a nasty look from her, and he quickly said, “Sorry. I know how you hate that word so.”

  Faith drew her glare from Light to Finn. Finn definitely had the body, but he lacked everything else. “There are so many guys on Earth who are like Finn. I don’t know why I liked him so much, but I—”

  “Hold on,” he interrupted. “You liked him—as in you were attracted to him?”

  She let out a chuckle. At least she wasn’t the only one who was stupefied by it.

  Light looked back to Finn, who must’ve said something funny, for he broke out into a smile and was laughing at his own joke. Cam simply stared at him, quiet, curious as to why it was so funny. The Elf beside her was utterly grim as he whispered, “You don’t fancy him anymore?”

  For a moment, Faith stared at Light, who still watched Finn. She couldn’t believe it. Well, really, she could, because Light seemed like the jealous type. Still—to get jealous over Finn? Nothing had happened with Finn, ever, besides an unrequited crush. And if there was anyone here who he should be jealous of, it was Jag. Jag’s, uh, manhood was the only one she’d touched.

  And, anyway, in this weird relationship they were all in, did Light have any right be jealous? Didn’t it kind of come with the territory?

  “Is the amazing Sunnytoes jealous?” Faith used his old nickname, giggling at the harsh look he threw her. The time of Sunnytoes had ended a while ago, but every once in a while, it was good to dust it off.

  “And what if I am?” he whispered, eyebrows furrowing.

  His arm still hung around her, and she reached her hand to his, fingers interlocking. So warm, smoother than she remembered. “You shouldn’t be,” Faith said, leaning into his side. “I’ve spent more time with you here than I ever did at home with Finn.”

  Light was quiet for another moment before saying, “And if I’m still jealous?”

  Faith responded by standing. She never let go of his hand, pulling him up with her. The stupid Elf shouldn’t be jealous. She tugged him along, away from camp, from the small clearing where the others stood near the fire. Twenty feet away, a few trees between them. The more dangerous creatures stuck in the old groves around Springsweet; they should be fine.

  “Aren’t you going to ask—” Faith didn’t have the chance to finish her question, for suddenly Light was the one taking charge. His hands cupped her face, his shoulders and back bent so that he could reach her, mouth attached to hers. Her back was against a tree; she could feel the bark through her thin leather jacket. It felt good, being pinned between the tree and his lithe, lean form.

  Once she overcame the surprise, Faith snaked her arms around his neck, moving to her tiptoes so it wasn’t so hard on him. The height difference killed her every time, but somehow they’d make it work.

  “I do adore those lips,” Light murmured against hers, drawing his thumbs down her cheeks, gently over her slightly-parted mouth.

  “Didn’t you make fun of them before?”

  “Probably, but that was a terrible mistake I never plan on repeating,” he assured her before kissing her again. Hungrier this time, harder. Ragged breaths, roaming hands. She shivered when his hands traveled downward, when they shifted direction and caressed the sensitive skin on her bare hips beneath her shirt.

  They lost track of time as they lost themselves in each other. Faith’s skin grew hot, and she wanted nothing more than to shed herself of her clothing and free Light from his, but she knew they weren’t exactly somewhere private. She did not want another walk-in, like what happened when she was with Jag in the bath. She was feeling frisky, but not that frisky.

  Faith was the one who broke away after a while to say, “We should get back.” As Light took a step backwards, she smoothed her hair and tugged down her shirt. He gave her a sad, almost puppy-dog look, which made her smile. Maybe it was selfish of her, but it felt good to be wanted. Wanted for herself, not because of her body.

  They returned to the camp, Faith leading the way, holding Light’s hand. She paused only a moment when Finn and Cam glanced to them. Jag hadn’t come back yet with the spoils of his hunt. Cam’s cloudy eyes were near emotionless, while Finn’s were judgemental. Faith was about to say a snarky comment when the missing man of their group emerged from the forest across the clearing, a dead animal slung over his shoulder. Reminiscent of a deer, though it had a pig-like face and overly-large hooves at the bottom of its thin legs. Such tiny horns they were near-nonexistent. A greater catch than what Light had managed to catch on previous nights.

  “Light,” Jag said, his footsteps quiet as he rejoined them. One hand held the bottom legs of the animal while his other held the front two; the body rested comfortably along his shoulder blades and behind his neck. “You want to prep it?”

  Light’s hand was slow to release Faith’s as he muttered unhappily, “Ah, so I get to do the dirty work?”

  “Well, you know I’m a fan of the dirty stuff, but I, ah, lack the proper equipment,” Jag spoke, tossing a wink in Faith’s direction.

  Pointedly ignoring the wink, Light went over to Jag and helped him with the carcass. Once the animal was on the grass, Light retrieved the small dagger on his hip, flipping it so that the handle was closest to Jag. “All you need is this.”

  Jag was unimpressed. “Here’s the thing, friend—I still don’t want to do it.” For a short while, the two argued playfully, and Faith watched, sinking to the grass. “You’re so much better at it than me.” He started laughing to himself. “That’s something I don’t say very often.”

  “How I’ve missed your company these last cycles,” Light deadpanned.

  “What? It’s true!
You are better than me at only a select few things—”

  Light frowned. “So you get to hunt while I get to do the messy work?”

  A swaggering man stood before her, having left Cam. Finn had his arms crossed, a glimmer in his eyes that told Faith what he was going to say before he said it. Something that mocked her, her relationship with Light, with Jag and Cam. As if he had any right to.

  So, to beat him to it, Faith lifted her chin up to him, no longer paying attention to Jag and Light’s playful banter. She wrinkled her nose. “Before you say anything, just know that whatever it is will probably make me want to sucker-punch that smug smirk right off your face.” She brought her gaze to his neck, where his rope Victus sat, coiled on his flesh like a snake.

  A snake would’ve been so much cooler than rope, but a lot less practical. Animals could be Victi, but it was a longer process, and there were times where the Victi didn’t take—and even if they did, the summoned animals could sometimes not listen to the will of their owners. Which was why, in the end, most Victi were weapons or tools of some sort. Swords, crossbows, guns—though those only spawned with a few bullets each time. Same with arrows, unless the I.D. Agent also had bullet or arrow Victi, too.

  Magic had its limits.

  “I’d like to see you try,” Finn said, his smugness fading not even a little.

  Faith let out a bark of a laugh. It sounded as unattractive as she felt it did, but that didn’t stop her. Plus, she didn’t care how Finn saw her. He could view her as the most hideous girl in the world and she wouldn’t care. “I think I could take you. You’re too confident.”

  “If one of us is overconfident in our abilities, it’s you, not me. I’m the Academy grad here, not you. You might be some hero to this world, but back at home? You’re just a girl.”

  Just a girl. Faith would never be just a girl again, would she? No, even if she somehow made it through this—which she highly doubted she would—she’d never be just a girl. Not anymore. But, still. He meant it as an insult, didn’t he?

  She blinked up at him as she said, “There’s nothing wrong with being just a girl, and there’s nothing wrong with being just a boy.” Faith ran a hand through her hair, still a bit messy from her makeout session with Light. She hoped it was dark enough, that the fire was far enough away Finn could not see the lingering flush in her cheeks.