Six Branches

by Jeanne Allen

  I don’t know if I’ll ever call a place like this home, but I have to try. With a Kladí who is a prince, and several more Kladi who hinted at wealthy backgrounds, I’ll have to get used to luxury whether I like it or not.

  Quincy gives another low bow. “Her Highness has requested your presence tomorrow evening at the Royal Residence for the Harvest Ball.” And with that, he leaves.

  A ball?

  Ready to protest, Jin surprises me and beats me to it. “Tomorrow? Tomorrow? I expected her to give us at least a week before we made an entrance! I can’t create magic in a day! I’m not a fucking fairy godmother!”

  All of my protests die in favor of amusement at Jin’s outrage. In the short time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him so affected by anything. And by the expression on my guys’ faces, I gather it’s a rare occurrence. I make the mistake of glancing over at Lucas, whose eyes dance. He mouths, “Fairy godmother,” and we both lose it.

  Jin tries to silence our giggles with his death glare, but even that can’t dispel the image of tall, graceful Jin The Assassin Kim in a tutu and wings.

  Though if anyone could pull it off, it would be Jin. He could make a paper bag look couture.

  The others roll their eyes at us before two maids arrive. Jackson, Forrest, Sebastian, and Lyle abandon us to follow one up to their rooms. Jin gives us one more huff before stomping away as well.

  When we settle down, Lucas pulls me toward him. His arms envelop me in an unexpectedly gentle embrace from my Goblin. “We’re going to be okay.”

  He doesn’t know, but it’s exactly what I need to hear right now. Then I realize he does know. He can probably sense my feelings even under our bouts of laughter. I try to radiate gratefulness back at him as I wrap my arms around his middle and sink into the addictiveness of my Kladí. His touch strengthens me and calms my nerves.

  By the time I step back, I’m more than ready to tackle whatever this new life throws at me. Lucas senses my resolve and sends me on my way with his voodoo-power smile and a wink.

  I follow the other maid in the opposite direction of the guys. Despite my earlier wish for time to process everything, being so far from them makes me a little queasy. Logically, though, I know I’ll appreciate the privacy in the next few months.

  The next few months. I shake my head, smiling.

  Two weeks ago, the prospect of living a few months with these six virtual strangers would have terrified me. But now, all I find in my heart is anticipation and a sense of belonging. I don’t know what our future looks like, but they aren’t going anywhere, and neither am I.

  Not this time.

  The maid shows me to a room as extravagant as the rest of the house. The décor, however, holds a delicate sophistication. The walls and furniture are shades of dusty pink and creamy yellow. I love it instantly. Despite the unnecessary amount of rooms—I mean, really, who needs a receiving room—I can see myself becoming comfortable here faster than expected.

  My stuff already waits for me, brought up while we lingered in the foyer.

  The overzealous maid explains the amenities of my new residence in great detail. Including a bell to ring should “my Lady need any assistance.” Eagerness practically drips out of the words as she says them. Ignoring the implications of her bright-eyed stare, I wait for her to leave before exploring the rooms.

  A venture into the wardrobe reveals it filled with clothes in my size, even the bras and panties. I don’t want to consider how they got those measurements. Even with designer tags, the simple and elegant styles are the kind I always wished I could wear. A quick perusal shows a noticeable lack of llamas on the pajamas, but nobody’s perfect.

  I go back to my favorite part of the suite, the bed. It’s huge, like everything in this house. Four-poster canopy frame fit for a princess.

  Or a princess and several princes.

  Digging Fox out of my bag, I throw myself on it and relax. It’s like sinking into a soft and fluffy cloud. The pastel yellow silk comforter wraps around me in a gentle cocoon. I’m not even laying the right way, and my entire body fits on this delicious piece of heaven.

  I kick off my shoes and let out a long sigh, hugging Fox tight. I don’t even have time to form a coherent thought before I drift off.

  The teen’s face twists into an ugly mask of lust and violence, making him more of a monster. Dirt encrusts his fingers; he scraped them in mud before coming to me. He likes it when it hurts me. I try not to cry because my tears make him smile.

  I want to scream, but I can’t.

  He learned early on I can make him stop with my words, so now he makes sure I’m unable say anything.

  I feel useless, dirty. Some part of me knows this is wrong, but I don’t dare tell anyone. He threatened to kill me if I tell his parents, and I believe him. He’s evil enough to do it. I hate it. Hate it. Hate it. But I’ve been through worse. I’m old enough to know worse foster parents exist. If all I have to deal with is their son, then I can survive.

  Usually, I lay back and wait until he finishes. But today is different; today he wants a response.

  His grubby hands pause their tugging at my jeans. “You like what I do to you, don’t you, Rose?”

  When I don’t make a sound, he reaches up to take off the tape covering my mouth. I feel myself breaking. Don’t take it off. Don’t…

  “Rose!” It takes a moment to realize the voice isn’t his, but Jackson’s. He holds me to his body, his shoulders shaking.

  I realize the person screaming is me. Tears already flood my cheeks, making the skin crack with salt. I haven’t reacted like this to my nightmares in a long time. With so many nights without them recently, this was too much. I feel like I did at ten-years-old, when the nightmares started.

  Eyes still closed, I take a shaking breath. The screaming has stopped, but I don’t dare open them. I’m terrified of what I’ll find. I don’t scream words when I dream. Even Mary never could piece together what the dreams were about, but, still, I’m afraid Jackson knows; somehow he figured out what kind of person he has the misfortune to be Bonded to.

  The dark corners of me eat away all the peace I found at being part of this Omás, this family. The dark part knows what I am, what I’m capable of. I try to fight, to hold onto the feelings I have begun to understand, but it’s no use. The memories always bring me nothing but darkness, no light.

  “Shh,” Jackson soothes, stroking my back.

  I lift a hand to my face to discover I’m still crying.

  Lucas sits behind me. I know it’s him because he radiates the same calmness as when we first met. I soak it up greedily, allowing it to push aside the darkness until I can breathe again.

  “We’re not going to ask, you’ll tell us when you’re ready,” Lucas says quietly.

  I’ll never be ready, I admit silently. But I appreciate the warning in Lucas’s voice, telling the others to back off. I feel them hovering. Even with the weak pre-Bond, I still sense them. They’re a part of me I can’t give back.

  After a few more moments of fortifying myself with Lucas’s Calm, letting it eat away the last vestiges of the nightmare, I crack open my eyes. My Kladí, who I will never deserve, stare at me with such honest expressions of concern, worry, and so much love I nearly tear up again.

  Instead I push it aside.

  “I’m hungry,” I announce to change the subject. It’s abrupt but also true; I’m ravenous.

  The guys laugh a little awkwardly, but it does the job of clearing up the heaviness from all our shoulders. I push the past farther into the back of my mind. The nightmares are where I first got the habit of ignoring the things I don’t want to dwell on.

  “Lucky for you, we were coming to take you to the dining room for dinner,” Sebastian says kindly.

  I grin. “Great! I hope Lyle cooked.”

  Lyle’s eyes turn remorseful. “No. The chef wouldn’t let me near his kitchen.”

  Such bitterness fills his voice that Lucas and I struggle not to laugh.r />
  “Let’s go! If it’s not as good as your cooking, we can complain!” I promise cheerfully, jumping up to drag Lyle toward the door.

  For as long as I’ve had nightmares, food has been my favorite way to chase away the ghosts of my past.

  Unfortunately for Lyle, dinner is so delicious I can’t find anything to complain about. Lyle and I exchange glances over our empty plates of pork, mashed potatoes, and butter-glazed carrots; midwestern food I’m touched the chef took the effort to make in order to welcome us.

  Lyle winks at me to let me know he accepts his defeat. Chef won’t be challenged for kitchen space. I pat my full belly, heavy with a food baby I’ll have to find a way to work off later. Maybe I should start exercising, since I won’t be doing as much walking around campus and to and from work.

  I’m about to stand when the staff return to put down a plate of steaming chocolate chip cookies and mugs of after-dinner coffee. My stomach might be full to bursting, but my dessert stomach is contemplating how many cookies it can fit in.

  Before I reach for one, however, Jackson interrupts our quiet mealtime chatter. “I think Rose should sleep closer to us until we can find out how to stop the nightmares.”

  Heads bob in unison around the table. I nod in agreement as well. I figured the reason the nightmare came back is related to the distance between the guys’ rooms and mine. My new bedroom is pretty far from theirs; this mansion is too big.

  “Should we move my things?” I’m a little sad to give up my beautiful new room. I’m already attached to that walk-in closet and soft décor.

  “Well…” Nervous, Jackson glances at the others, but nobody takes over, so he continues. “The guest bedrooms are pretty far from the Kladí rooms. There are only six, since that’s the highest number of Kladí an Omás can have. I suppose the twins could share…”

  “Hell, no,” Lucas protests.

  Lyle hits him on the shoulder.

  Jacksons sends them a reproving look. “But part of the reason your room is so far away is to give the Agora space. It can be taxing being the center of an Omás, especially one as large as ours.”

  “Plus, you might need privacy for sexual activities,” Sebastian interjects, his face as serene as always.

  I raise my eyebrows, my cheeks matching Jackson’s neck as we both struggle to acknowledge Sebastian’s suggestion.

  The others seem less uncomfortable at the mention of our future sexual activities.

  Before Lucas says whatever his devious Goblin mind is gearing up for, Jackson sputters, “Erm, yes. That, too. Anyway, there’s no need for you to give up your privacy. You should treat your bedroom as your room, and one of us will join you during the night until we can eradicate your nightmares.”

  He proposal is logical and delivered with such confidence I almost believe they’ll find a way to get rid of my nightmares. But if ten years and countless shrinks and sleeping pills taught me anything, it’s that my nightmares will never disappear.

  I’m less freaked at the idea of someone in my bed every night than I probably should be. But I already slept together with my Kladí that first night Jin was with us. I didn’t feel uncomfortable, and the guys never pressure me to do anything more than what I’m ready for, so I feel safe.

  In fact, I’m surprised at how excited I am to have each of the guys in my bed all night. Trying to derail my rapidly perverting thoughts, I voice my consent. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  The guys look relieved. I’m annoyed they thought I’d… What? Kick up a fuss like some kind of prudish princess? Maybe it’s because I’m human, or raised human anyway. Though my human morals and norms are rapidly acclimating to this new society I find myself a part of, I think the anthropologist in me has always been preparing myself to adapt to whatever culture I find myself studying.

  Jackson looks happy at my swift agreement, but something in his eyes makes me think there’s more. “What else? You look like you have more to say.” With my coffee mug halfway to my mouth, my words come out a little muffled.

  He smiles at me ruefully. “Hard to fool my Agora, it seems. Actually yes, there was something else we wanted to suggest, but I’m not sure you’re ready…”

  The sound of my mug slamming on the table cuts him off, and I try not to wince as coffee spills on my hand. “Let me be the judge of what I’m ready for.”

  I try to sound badass while discretely wiping my coffee covered hand on the tablecloth, cringing at the stain it makes. My tone was sharp, but I don’t like my decisions being made for me. I’ve had enough of that.

  Jackson clears his throat and doesn’t comment on the coffee stains. Instead, he meets my eyes. The nervousness is gone, and the quiet authority I’ve come to expect from my prince returns. “For us Phósopoi, we grow up expecting to be part of an Omás. To us, sharing our love is not unusual.”

  I nod, gesturing for him to continue.

  “However, we still have the same emotions humans do. We feel loneliness, neglect, even jealousy. In order to combat this, especially in a larger Omás like ours, many Phósopoi implement schedules. Typically, every day is regulated to a different Kladí. That Kladí can monopolize their Agora’s time from dinner till the next morning.” Jackson was doing so well, but that last part makes his neck flame up again, though he does his best to keep his face impassive.

  I stay quiet for a moment, mulling over the suggestion. Logically, it makes sense. I already wanted some alone time with each of the guys to get to know them better. I glance around at my Kladí, making sure they’re on board with this new plan.

  All I find is eager acceptance, so I hastily agree. “We should do that. I like the idea of dinner alone with each of you. Maybe since there are six of you, Sunday can be our time as an Omás all together?”

  Jackson nods, his gaze warming to an almost sea green with admiration at my suggestion and acceptance. “That’s a good idea.”

  Before he can continue, Lucas interrupts. “Whose night is it tonight?”

  “I think we should go in order of oldest to youngest,” Jin suggests.

  It’s a good suggestion but I suspect he made it because today is Monday and he’s the eldest. I give him a bit of side-eye, but when our gazes catch, his darkens with promises of things I can’t name but suddenly, desperately want.

  “Yes! Let’s do that,” I find myself saying before I even form a coherent thought.

  Jin gives me a slow grin that rivals Forrest’s as the others murmur their consent. As Jin stands and walks over to me, I barely register as the twins fight over who’s older.

  His hand extends. “Shall we?”

  My mouth runs dry. As eager as I am for this, some part of me recognizes a night alone with this dark, mysterious man will be no innocent snuggle-party. I need to prepare mentally and physically. I’m not ready to hand over what’s left of my v-card, but I’m pretty sure I should shave my legs.

  “I have to prepare!” I blurt out, ignoring his hand and bolting from the room.

  Lucas’s laugh rings out behind me.

  Thanks to my awful sense of direction, it takes me a good twenty minutes and directions from three different staff members to find my room.

  Washing quickly, I shave my legs and brush out my white-blond hair. While my eyes are a dull brown, I’ve always liked the color of my hair. Mary used to go on for ages about how it makes me look like an angel.

  “Angel baby, give Momma Mary some love,” she’d say.

  Mary was a tactile woman. She was the only person, until the guys came along, who I allowed to hug me on a regular basis.

  I shake away the memories to focus on the task at hand, which is figuring out what to wear to bed. Jin is coming soon, and as much as I love them, my llama sleep shorts are not going to cut it. At least not tonight.

  My new closet takes walk-in to a whole other level. It reminds me of a Kardashian’s closet, not that I watch that show because I’m a proud academic and would never admit to such things. A mini cr
ystal chandelier, a smaller version of the one in the foyer, hangs prominently in the center of the room. Comfortable leather couches line the wall opposite the door, with a matching ottoman in the middle of the room.

  Racks of clothing cover the remaining walls, separated by what I assume to be function: day, evening, sleepwear, party, casual, and so on. Beneath the hanging clothes, pullout drawers reveal even more options. At the end of the closet, jewelry fills a display case, some of which I’m pretty sure could pay for my entire college tuition. To the left of the jewelry case is a door to another closet full of shoes, bags, and accessories.

  It’s all beautiful and way too much. Normally, I’d hate the ostentatious aspect, but, like the bedroom décor, I can’t bring myself to dislike it.

  I pride myself on my low-maintenance personality, prepping for a lifetime chasing reclusive societies in the Amazon. Now, faced with a wall of pretty shoes, I discover I must be more materialistic than I thought.

  That, or nobody can resist some Jimmy Choos, I amend, running my hand over an elegant sandal made from black leather with gold accents. Focus, Rose. Jin will be here any moment.

  I run to the bigger closet and grab something from the sleep section. As I pull on the outfit, a knock sounds on my door. My hands sweat and tingle as I check myself over in the mirror set up in the corner.

  I am pleasantly surprised at the clothes I chose, a matching set consisting of a lavender camisole and shorts. They’re soft, silky, and the cut looks great on my long legs and thin frame. I feel confident enough to greet my fashion designer boyfriend.

  Wiping my still sweaty hands on my shorts, I open the door. Not trusting my voice quite yet, I give him a shaky smile and gesture for Jin to come in.

  Jin, as expected, is impeccably dressed and beautiful. He wears simple black silk sleep pants that look expertly made. These aren’t bargain bin clothes. His wears his long hair down, hanging in a thick ebony sheet over his olive-toned shoulders. Hair down and in loose-fitting pants, Jin seems even more ethereal than usual, and I’m transported to my middle school years when I daydreamed of marrying Legolas.