Roses and Revenants: A Dark Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance (The House of Mirrors Book 1)

by Cate Corvin

  “When you left without a word, I was pretty torn up about it,” he said, looking into his own glass to avoid my curious gaze. “Mother didn’t want to deal with the explosions, so she sent me to Emberfire to pursue my mastery early.”

  Had it really been that bad that she’d wanted to send him away? My brows drew together. “I’m sorry, Joss. I wasn’t thinking about that when we left.” Now I really felt like a selfish asshole; control had been tenuous at best for him in those teen years. It hadn’t occurred to me that he might lose all control of it along with his emotions.

  I’d never paid much attention to those covens outside the Six Great Houses of the northeast, but the Emberfire coven of Arizona was pretty famous for their strong lineage of firewitchery, much like the Bells had made a name for themselves with mirrorwalking.

  Those intense blue eyes flashed up at me. “It took three years. I studied under their patriarch, Lord Ember. It was… grueling.” Joss’s eyes were shadowed and stormy. “There were many times when I thought I was just going to lay down and die before I’d achieve mastery. But I took each day one step at a time, and next thing you know… the apprenticeship was done, I passed the mastery exam, and Lord Ember sent me home.”

  “Congratulations, Joss,” I said softly, heavily impressed. Mastery exams were no joke- many witches had died pursuing them. Even as a strong mirrorwalker, I hadn’t attempted a mastery myself before I went into exile.

  Joss raised his hand, showing the vivid red sigil inked over the veins in his wrist- the mark of a master of witchfire. I resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. The mark seemed to pulse with its own inner fire.

  “I’ve been training for covenhead responsibilities since then. Until last month’s shitstorm during the Circle,” he said, glancing at me. The Circles were monthly covenhead meetings, designed to exchange news, forge friendships and handfastings, and air grievances. “Vivienne Wolfe spoke at the last Circle meeting- and she let it slip that she was going to have Adrian pursue you, that letting you slip off into the mortal world and dividing Bellhallow was a mistake. Everyone was in an uproar about it, trying to figure out where you’d gone, so they could be the first ones in with a handfasting proposal.”

  Ah. Vivienne Wolfe, that ancient, frightening crone, was the one responsible for disrupting my peace. “So, Joss, how did you meet Adrian and become such good friends that you’d ask him to hunt me down with you?” I asked casually, remembering the dark sultriness of Adrian’s wards with a pleasurable, and slightly annoying, shiver.

  “We became friends in Emberfire,” Joss said. “He was tutoring with someone else, not Lord Ember. I haven’t had a chance to speak to him in a while, not since the Circle. Mother’s been running me ragged since I took over Rosethorne’s petitions for aid.”

  “And you ended up out here because Vivienne kicked the hornet’s nest?” I asked. Going out to retrieve a wayward witch wasn’t the sort of task a matriarch gave to a master, and I knew Melinda was definitely not the type to handle coven responsibilities well with her most capable son away from home.

  “I’m here because I want to be, Mor.” His frown was tinged with a hint of something else, his fingers tapping the tabletop.

  My gaze ran over his densely-muscled forearm, and surprise burst in me at the sight of a ragged scar over his other wrist, a knotted, silvery line. “Joss, what the hell is that?”

  He flexed his arm in a way that made my chest tighten. The scar rippled in the light. “I got it in Emberfire. Didn’t I just say mastery apprenticeship sucks?”

  I’d known Joss for years, and I still knew his little tells. His lips quirked up at the corners and the arch in his left eyebrow told me he was lying. Maybe he’d picked up the scar in Emberfire… but it wasn’t because of mastery training.

  Even though I had no right to be angry, not after what I’d done, the fact that he was lying felt like having cold water tossed in my face. Joss never would’ve hidden anything from me before. We’d known each other’s deepest, darkest secrets.

  “Keep your secrets, then,” I said, digging in my pocket for cash. I needed aspirin, not another beer.

  “I’ll tell you when the time is right, Mor. I’m walking you home,” he said, mollifying me as he slipped the cash back into my pocket and slid a crisp bill across the bar. “And I don’t let pretty ladies pay.”

  “Do you say that to all of them?” I grumbled, adjusting my sickle and daggers as we walked back out into the night.

  “Just you,” he said, looking down at me. I shook my head and pointed my feet towards Blue Lake, hooking my arm through his. Being this close to Joss felt like coming home, but the old and familiar comfort of his friendship had changed.

  He pulled me closer as we walked, his hand finding my waist. When the neon faded behind us, and the silence filled the empty streets, he pushed me against a wall. Joss’s arm braced over my head and I realized just how big my old friend had become in the years we’d been apart.

  “Do you really think I’d come here just because of my matriarch?” he demanded, his gaze as hot as flames. His signature danced around my wards, the prickling of tiny thorns filling my mind. “I’m here because I missed you, Morena. We were together almost every day for years. Having you disappear on me was like… like having my arm cut off. A part of me went missing when you did.”

  I stared up at him, biting my lip as he cupped my cheek, his gentle hands belying his harsh tone. The ball of his thumb swept over my cheek and found my lower lip.

  “It took three years of being broken down and reshaped into something new to figure it out.” His thumb pressed into my lip, slid down my neck. “Adrian and I became as close as brothers. We had a girlfriend when we left Emberfire.”

  Did he just say we? They’d… shared a girlfriend?

  “When we were teens, I always compared myself to Eric,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. “I thought I’d never hold a candle to your feelings for him. But sharing Dana with Adrian made me realize how simple the answer is. I didn’t need to compete with Eric. I just needed to be equal to him in your eyes.”

  “Joss-” I started to say, but he leaned in and silenced me with his lips on mine.

  Once upon a time, I might’ve been horrified to kiss my best friend. I might’ve run away and never looked back.

  Now, my hands moved on their own, winding around his neck and pulling him closer, my body yearning against him.

  Joss obliged, his hand running over my shoulders and waist, finding the curves of my hips and ass. His tongue darted between my lips, drawing a gasp from me as heat bloomed low in my belly.

  He scooped me up in one smooth motion and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he held me against the brick building. Joss let out a low groan as his hips pressed forward, the hard bulge in the front of his pants surging against my aching pussy.

  Part of me was still panicking over this, my best friend between my legs and pressing lingering kisses along my exposed collarbone and breasts, sending alternating waves of heat and goosebumps over my skin.

  And the rest of me didn’t care, amazed by how gorgeous he was, exultant at having him with me again.

  He nipped my earlobe as I ran my fingers through his cropped curls, trailing lower to find the powerful lines of his shoulders and broad back-

  “Well, now. What a spectacle.”

  I startled, looking around frantically for the intruder even as Joss let out a low growl of frustration. “Piss off, Sophia.”

  Two figures approached from the darkness. I’d been so caught up with Joss I hadn’t felt their signatures against my wards. They came through loud and clear now: one tasted of lightning and stormy skies, and the other was reminiscent of gentle rain and old books.

  Sophia and Samara Black, twins, and the youngest witches in the Blacksea coven.

  Joss released me reluctantly, gently setting me back on the ground and allowing tiny witchfires to bloom to life in the air around us. He kept his arm around my shoulder.

/>   The twins were identical, auburn hair hanging in languid curls to their waists, hazel eyes serene and spiteful by turns. As perfectly alike as they were in the flesh, however, it was easy to tell them apart.

  Samara Black wore a string of moonstones around her throat and a cream-colored lace dress. She was like a modernized Jane Austen character, serene and pragmatic.

  Sophia Black was the more troublesome twin, cruel and usually sneering. Her jeans were ripped artfully across the knees and thighs, and she wore spiked tourmaline rings on every finger in a witchy sort of punk-rock aesthetic.

  When it rains, it pours, I thought, my mind begging me for peace and quiet from the covens. I had known Warden Stone, the mountain lion familiar, and Joss Thorne wouldn’t be the only ones to find me. My intuition had been all but screaming it at me.

  I just wish my oldest nemeses weren’t involved as well. They were a year older than me, and our parents had expected us to get along by obligation of age.

  Their expectations had ended in abject failure.

  “Sophia, Samara,” I said, nodding to them. It would be so pleasant if they would vanish and I could go back to exploring Joss’s lips and body. The covens had no right to interfere in my life once I’d cast them aside, not until the abandonment limitations were up.

  “Lady Bell,” Samara said evenly. She used the old-fashioned title for a covenmistress, the one that only those with masteries now used. It was a provocation or a twisted show of respect, but with her cool demeanor, it was impossible to tell which. It wasn’t unlike Samara to uphold the more ancient witching traditions of formal titles; I was pretty sure she’d been born in the wrong century. “The Black coven has come to give you greetings, on behalf of my grandfather.”

  I stared at her, still daydreaming wistfully of Joss’s hands on my hips. “What do you want?” They’d come all this way just to exchange greetings? Horseshit.

  Sophia tossed her hair, looking down her perky nose at me. “I don’t know why we even bothered,” she said to her sister. “We were supposed to invite you to the next Circle celebration, but that invitation could be rescinded.”

  “Then rescind it,” I said, staring at her like she’d grown three heads. “I don’t want to attend your Circle. What part of ‘exile’ do all of you not get? I came here so I wouldn’t be bothered.”

  Joss looked down at me sideways. “Except for you,” I said, leaning into him.

  “So, you’re going to the Thornes?” Sophia asked, her eyes darting between me and Joss. It was almost possible to see the wheels in her head spinning. If they thought I was entering a handfasting pact with Joss, maybe Edgar Black, their grandfather and coven patriarch, would get the message and leave me alone.

  But I didn’t want the rumor mill churning before I’d even made up my mind to go home. “I didn’t say that, did I?” I asked.

  “What do you mean by ‘all of you’?” Samara asked, casting a warning glance at her sister. “Besides Lord Thorne, has anyone else found you?”

  “Is it any of your damn business?” The twins stared at me expectantly, like it was their business. “Never mind. Look, I’ve got my own problems to worry about-”

  “That you do,” Sophia said nastily. “Like making out with warlocks in seedy alleyways.”

  “-and the Black coven isn’t a part of those problems. Give my regards to your grandfather and leave me alone.”

  “Who wouldn’t want to make out with me in a seedy alleyway?” Joss muttered, and Sophia turned her venomous gaze on him but remained silent. The crimson tattoo on his wrist glistened in the darkness with its own internal light, possibly reminding her of their difference in station.

  “No respectable witch,” she sniffed. Even with that difference, getting in a dig at me was impossible for her to resist. I rolled my eyes. Sophia’s unrequited teenage crush on Joss had clearly turned to pure poison.

  Joss’s hand tightened on my waist. “Good. I like my witches disrespectable and downright filthy, in alleyways or anywhere else.”

  “You’re the talk of the covens, Morena.” Samara crossed her arms over her chest, but her stoic expression never wavered despite our juvenile sniping. “I, for one, would be perfectly fine if you stayed here among the humans. We’ll happily take our portion out of Bellhallow’s dissolution. But we are bound by our patriarch to invite you to the Circle, regardless of our personal feelings.”

  That last part was clearly directed at Sophia, who gave her twin an exasperated look.

  “In that case, I accept your invitation,” I said, and Sophia’s jaw dropped, much to my satisfaction. Just the thought of her getting a dime out of my inheritance had changed my mind on the spot. “Now if you’ll excuse us, I have seedy warlocks to attend to.”

  I linked my arm in Joss’s and strolled away, waggling my fingers at Sophia. The twins fell behind us, whispering to each other in the shadows, probably trying to plot my death in a way their grandfather wouldn’t blame them for.

  Joss and I laughed all the way back to my apartment complex, which was a sorry brick building held together with duct tape and a prayer. It had been painted a rainbow of colors over time, each layer visible where the weather had worn it away in patches. Right now it was painted a half-assed sort of white, but a streak of purple was still visible up the north wall. The complex held the dubious name of Blue Lake, although the only view was a cracked gray parking lot and the backside of an industrial complex.

  My apartment, number 13, a fitting number for a witch, was on the second floor, overlooking the parking lot.

  “Morena… this is really awful,” Joss said, looking up at the peeling exteriors with horror. “You can’t live in a place like this.”

  “As you can see, I do in fact live in a place like this,” I said, spreading my arms to behold the depressing sight. “Are you telling me you don’t like it?”

  “You have a magical mansion and you willingly choose to live here. What’s wrong with you?”

  “I needed a break from Bellhallow,” I said pointedly. “So don’t get on my case about it.”

  Joss softened, closing his mouth. “Okay. But seriously-”

  “Nope.”

  I found the rickety metal stairs on the side of the building, but Joss grabbed me again. I stood on the bottom stair, a little closer to his face. “I’d invite you in, but I do have an appointment in the morning.”

  Truthfully, I didn’t want him to see my apartment. If he was appalled just by the parking lot, he’d force me back to Bellhallow if he saw the actual unit I rented.

  “I understand.” His eyes burned even in the fluorescent parking lot lights, framed by strong brows and high cheekbones. He cupped my face in his hands and I gripped his shoulders, resisting the urge to lean in closer. “But you’re forbidden to be a stranger. No more vanishing acts. I couldn’t stand to lose you a second time, which means I’m going to be around. A lot.”

  “I think I can deal with that,” I whispered. “Night, Joss.”

  Joss pressed his forehead against mine for a moment and then released me, backing away. “Good night, Mor. Be here when I come back.” He pulled a smooth quartz cabochon from a pocket, etching a sigil in midair.

  The tiny runestone activated, and a moment later the parking lot was empty of everyone but me. Only a few sparkles drifted in midair to show where my old friend had stood, but they too winked out and left me in darkness.

  I was always in darkness. Maybe I should’ve asked him in.

  6

  I heaved a sigh and touched my front door, and my magical wards tickled my hands welcomingly as I unlocked it. I stepped carefully over the line of salt sprinkled over the threshold and shut the door behind me.

  In a way, I knew that I’d chosen the furthest place from Bellhallow when I’d decided to start a new life. It was not the furthest distance-wise, but it was in spirit.

  My bed was a strip of a cot, covered with secondhand threadbare sheets. Several dented pots and pans littered the tiny kitchen counte
r, from my infrequent forays into cooking, and an enormous crack spanned the wall behind the sagging couch from floor to ceiling.

  I’d brought my mother’s dressing table mirror with me, propped on a plywood dresser, the roses carved into the mahogany frame a familiar and painful nostalgia. Roses for Rosalind, Father had always said. Just like the silver hand mirror I carried with me, another relic of hers. I couldn’t bear to leave either behind, even under the heavy burden of memories.

  The mirror had once reflected glass bottles of perfume and sparkling jewels, but now it only showed a tangle of old jewelry, a bottle of cheap vanilla perfume and a jar of wood polish. I was a far cry from my refined mother.

  I settled on the couch with the wood polish and my sickle to clean off the dregs of the feral vampires. My father had always told me the weapon would belong to me one day, but I’d had to pry the sickle from his cold, stiff hand-

  I growled, wiping the blade carefully with the rag until the wood shone. I needed to keep my thoughts away from that. Right now, they were buzzing with irritation and anxiety. With the statute coming up I needed to make a choice, and soon.

  And now I had my best friend back. He’d changed so much, but in the kind of way that made my breath catch and my throat tighten with anticipation.

  I finished polishing the sword, ensuring every speck of dust had been banished from its smooth surface. What would Eric say about Joss and his bright new outlook on our relationship?

  I looked around my apartment and sighed. Part of me wished I’d stayed with Eric, if only to dispel some of the lonely cloud that hung over me, but he had his own life to live. I couldn’t tether him to me constantly, and if I had stayed, I wouldn’t have run into Joss.

  Unfortunately, both guys had my mind spinning.

  I wondered if Eric had ever wished for his own family. He’d taken responsibility for me when I was young, acting on orders from Father to keep me safe from wayward spirits and the other covens. Father and Mom were both constantly on the move, hunting revenants across several states, as was a Bell witch or warlock’s duty. He’d been a loving father, despite his usual absence. Both knew the toll being a witch took on family.