Claimed by the Fallen: A Fallen Angel Reverse Harem Novel (The Fallen Harem Book 1)

by Samantha Britt

  I wave goodbye, then latch onto Annie’s arm. Joey walks next to us, easily keeping pace with Annie’s long legs. I know I’d fall if I wasn’t holding onto her for balance. The ground surrounding the football stadium isn’t level like the field. I’m eager for the chance to switch out of the dangerous heels the moment I’m in my parent’s car. I’d stashed a pair of my favorite boat shoes in the backseat for exactly that purpose.

  Joey waits until we put distance between us and my parents before asking, “So, what’s the verdict on the concert tomorrow? You down, Ronnie?”

  I rack my brain for an excuse to get out of the concert, but I’ve got nothing.

  “I don’t know…” I trail off. Annie leads us to the left to avoid a family photo. We duck under low-hanging branches on an evergreen tree.

  After we straighten, Annie immediately attacks my indecision. “Come on, Veronica. Don’t be lame. It’s your birthday weekend! You should celebrate.”

  “I will celebrate at dinner,” I offer weakly. I know that’s not the type of celebration she means.

  “The concert doesn’t start until nine,” Joey states. “Your dinner is at five. That’s definitely enough time to make it.”

  I tilt my head back and sigh. “I know, I know.” I just have no desire to go.

  What can I say? I’m a creature of habit. I enjoy staying home on Saturday nights and watching movies or reading books. Standing in a crowded music venue doesn’t sound like fun, b

  ut both my friends and I know there is little chance of me winning the argument.

  “Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll go.”

  Joey whoops and Annie squeals. She grabs me tighter, pulling me closer. I lose my balance.

  To counter my weight, I lean back. Seeing my predicament, Annie releases my arm. I don’t expect it, and the freedom makes me reel backwards. My back collides into a tall tree.

  At least, I think it’s a tree.

  Hands land on my arms to help me balance. “Whoa!”

  I recognize the voice and cringe. Please, don’t let it be him.

  “You alright?” I hear the voice again and know my hopes are in vain. Slowly, I rotate my neck to face Preston McKenna.

  “Uh…” I stare at him, at a loss for words. “Yeah. I’m good… Thanks.”

  Preston’s hands are still on me. His strong fingers feel like they’re burning holes through my gown’s oblong sleeves. He observes

  me for another moment before dropping his hands. “No problem.”

  I rotate my feet so my neck and spine are aligned. “Sorry about that.” I shift, unsure how to extricate myself from the awkward situation.

  “No worries, Veronica.” Preston smiles charmingly. “Accidents happen.”

  I open my mouth to reply, but a snooty voice interrupts, “No one is surprised when accidents happen around you, freak.”

  I look around Preston and see Tina Peters, the most popular girl at our school, sneering down her perfect nose at me. I feel my cheeks heat.

  Preston looks at his girlfriend. “Chill out, Tina.”

  “What?” She blinks innocently. “I didn’t do anything.”

  Annie and Joey appear at my side. The latter wraps my hand in his and turns us around. “Let’s go, Ronnie. Our families are waiting.”

  Joey pulls me, helping me navigate the uneven ground, while Annie glares menacingly at Tina. The three of us walk towards the crowd of families.

  “Nice, Tina.” I hear Preston bite out behind us.

  “What?” she asks, again. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for that weird-eyed freak.”

  I tuck my chin closer to my chest, wishing to be anywhere but here.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Annie tells me. “She’s just jealous.”

  I want to scoff, but I don’t. Annie and I have argued about my eyes before.

  I have heterochromia, a genetic phenomenon where my eyes are two different colors. Annie always claims my eyes are cool, and that she is jealous of the vibrant blue and mossy brown colors. Not to mention, the one-inch strand of blonde in my otherwise black hair. She calls it chic, but I know Annie is just being nice. Tina is right to call me weird. My eyes are strange.

  “For real,” Joey backs up Annie’s claim. “Tina is an insecure diva. Don’t listen to anything she says.”

  “I know, guys. I’m not upset.” I aim to change the subject. “Let’s go finish taking pictures so I can finally get these contraptions off my feet.”

  Annie laughs, and Joey looks down at the wedges. “I like them,” he says. “Even though they make you almost taller than me.”

  Joey is six feet tall, and I come up to his brow in the wedges. Annie looms over both of us in the stilettos.

  “Thanks,” I tell him, still holding his hand.

  My best friends and I walk toward the Lee family. Annie’s parents stand in a group of our principal and teachers, chatting amicably with them.

  “Ugh,” Annie groans. “Is it too much to ask that my parents stop talking to my teachers? I mean, I’ve graduated for crying out loud.”

  I laugh. The Lees had always taken their daughter’s education very seriously. Annie’s parents were in constant communication with her teachers throughout the school year.

  “They’re just being friendly,” I attempt to console my friend as we approach.

  Annie’s parents see us and wave excitedly. When we arrive,

  Mr. Lee hugs his daughter, and Mrs. Lee wraps me in her arms, forcing Joey to release my hand as I’m pulled away.

  “Congratulations, baby girl,” she tells me. Mrs. Lee is like a second mom to me. I spent countless nights at her home growing up.

  I return her embrace. “Thanks, Mrs. Lee.”

  I’m passed to her husband as she turns her attention to Joey. Mr. Lee pats me on the back and steps away. He looks at me and his daughter. “I’m very proud of you two.”

  “As you should be.” Mr. Cohen appears. He must’ve been in the group of teachers speaking with the Lees. I don’t know how I missed him. “Annette and Veronica are… or should I say were, my star physics students.”

  His praise creates warmth in the center of my chest. Both Annie and I smile shyly and murmur our thanks. My best friend becomes just as tongue-tied when it comes to our attractive teacher.

  “What about me, Mr. C.?” Joey frees himself from Annie’s mom. He wraps an arm over my shoulder and tucks me to his side. “I was your student, too.”

  A flash of what looks like annoyance crosses Mr. Cohen’s eyes as he observes Joey’s arm around me. In an instant, the look vanishes. “Yes, Mr. Mestas. You were. Though, I seem to remember you sleeping more than working in my class.”

  Our group laughs. Joey shrugs but keeps his arm around me. I wobble a little from the movement. “Hey, I passed, Mr. C. That’s all I could hope for.”

  Our teacher smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Indeed.”

  Mrs. Lee lifts her camera and says, “Girls, Joey. Stand by Mr. Cohen. Let me take a picture.”

  I want to object. Taking a photo with a teacher seems weird to me. But Annie and Joey agree before I have the chance to say anything.

  Joey steps to Mr. Cohen’s left as Mr. Lee moves out of the way. I try to follow Annie’s dad, hoping my escape might go unnoticed. Annie catches me immediately.

  Rolling her eyes, my friend grabs my wrist and pulls me back to the group. She shifts over and puts me in between her and Mr. Cohen.

  My heart thumps in my chest, and I think it might explode when I feel Mr. Cohen place his hand on my lower back. I swallow the lump in my throat.

  How often have I daydreamed about being this close to Mr. Cohen?

  Now that it is happening, I worry my brain might short-circuit. I can feel his breath disturb the air by my ear, and the sensation is doing crazy things to my stomach. I feel my muscles tighten and twist with nervous happiness.

  “Smile, everyone.” I’m shaking like a leaf, and I pray Mr. Cohen doesn’t notice. I try to hold still as Mr
s. Lee snaps a picture.

  One minute later, Mrs. Lee is finished. She’s a more efficient photographer than my mother. Our group separates. I’m about to rush off, back to the safety of my parents, when I hear Mr. Cohen say, “I hope you all have a great summer.”

  “You too, Mr. Cohen,” Annie replies politely.

  “Thanks, Mr. C,” Joey says.

  I lift my gaze and see Mr. Cohen looking at me expectantly. I force myself to smile. I’m sure my lips are trembling when his eyes land on them.

  “I hope you have a good summer, too,” I’m finally able to say. “Thanks for everything this year.”

  Not only was Mr. Cohen one of my best teachers, but he turned out to be a valuable mentor. When I finally gathered the courage to ask for his help, Mr. Cohen advised me to apply to colleges with good science programs, and he even wrote letters of recommendation for me. I’d been lucky to have him as a teacher.

  “You’re very welcome, Messenger.” His eyes shine. “I’m sure I’ll see you around town.”

  Oh, I hope so.

  I nod and murmur some non-committal response. Then, my friends and I venture off to find Joey’s family. The Lees come with us so we can all get group photos at the same time.

  As I walk away, I swear I feel Mr. Cohen’s eyes on my back, but I avoid turning to see. Though, the thought does make me walk a little bit taller.

  Three

  The tight, leather skirt and shimmering, sleeveless shirt stare back at me from my bed. I eye the revealing clothing, wondering why, on God’s green earth, my mom would buy such an outfit for me.

  “I can’t,” I tell her. I can only imagine how lanky and ridiculous the ensemble would look on me. “No way. I won’t wear that.”

  My mom shakes her head. She moves toward my bed and lifts the form-fitting top. “But look how pretty it is! Trust me, you’ll look great.” She approaches and holds the top up against me. “See? The sequins make your eyes pop.”

  I cringe. That is the last thing I want.

  “They’re too small, Mom,” I attempt to dissuade her hopes about the outfit. “Plus, they’re too fancy to wear to dinner.”

  “Annie told me about the concert tonight,” she reveals, undeterred. “You’ll look great in this.”

  I close my eyes, silently wishing my best friend had kept her mouth shut. “Mom, I’m just going to a concert. It’s not a big deal.”

  “This isn’t just any concert,” she counters, finally lowering the top, “It’s your first concert. I want you to have fun with your friends.”

  I don’t see what wearing the outfit has to do with me having fun.

  My mom tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ears and sighs. “Ronnie, just… humor me. Okay?” She peers at me with pleading baby blue eyes, looking more than a decade younger than her forty-nine years. This is totally not fair. My mom and I are close, and she knows I give in when she puts on her puppy-dog eyes. I can’t think of anything I’ve denied her when she looks at me like that.

  “Ugh. Fine!” I throw my hands in the air. “You win. I’ll wear the outfit.”

  Mom squeals happily. I swear, sometimes I think she’s the teenager.

  She places the shirt on the bed and rushes to the door. “Go ahead and change, honey. I can’t wait to see you in the skirt.” She closes my bedroom door, rushing to leave before I can change my mind.

  I sigh and change out of my oversized t-shirt and leggings. I avoid looking in the mirror as I shimmy into the black skirt. I already know it leaves nothing to the imagination.

  I glance at the cream-colored top, deciding to change out of my bright blue bra into something not as easily seen through the light fabric.

  The neckline of the top reaches the base of my throat, and the hem barely covers my belly button. I pull up the waist of the leather skirt to hide the inch of skin peeking between the two items, but I stop when I realize doing so shows more leg than I want.

  I shake my head and wonder why I let my mom get away with this. I’m not a tomboy, but I’m definitely not a girly-girl either. She knows how out of character the tight apparel is for me. I think she still secretly wants me to be a pageant star like she’d been as a teenager.

  Janet Garrett won Ms. Texas when she was only seventeen. She enrolled me in one pageant when I was five, but I’d kicked and screamed the entire show. Needless to say, my mom never enrolled me in another contest again. But I’m convinced her pageant-mom dreams hadn’t died that day.

  I enter my closet and look at my meager collection of shoes. I don’t know what to wear with my outfit. My boat shoes and tennis will hardly match the fancy clothes.

  A bright pink box on the floor catches my eye. I lean over and open the lid. Inside, I find a pair of black sandals. They have a strap around the heel and connect to the base of the sandal between the big toe and index toe. Faux pearls and diamonds decorate the top of the sandal. The shoes are formal enough for my new outfit, but not as daunting as my graduation wedges. I silently thank my mom for the reprieve before pulling them out of the box and leaving the closet.

  Sandals on, I finally walk to the full-body mirror on the back of my bedroom door.

  My eyes widen.

  I look… good.

  I don’t know how else to describe myself.

  The leather skirt isn’t as tight as I feared; you can’t even see my panty line. My gaze moves to the top, and I’m surprised to notice how toned my arms look in the short-sleeve shirt. My kickboxing hobby is paying off.

  Feeling bold, I reach into my lightly stocked makeup bag and retrieve the mascara Annie bought me. I twist the yellow top and remove the brush. I swipe each eye four times before putting the mascara away. I grab a clip and arrange my hair half-up half-down, careful to hide the strand of blonde beneath a layer of ebony hair. Then, I leave my bedroom.

  I’m walking down the stairs, and I hear Annie’s voice floating out of the kitchen. I follow the sound.

  “Hey, Annie.”

  My best friend spins around. “Happy Birthday, Ronnie!” She wraps me in a bear-hug and squeezes tight. She pulls back and eyes my outfit. “You look great!”

  “Thanks,” I mumble, tugging on the hem of the skirt.

  Behind Annie, I see my dad. He’s looking at me like he wants to demand I go back upstairs and change, but Mom’s nudge renders him silent. It’s times like this when I wish my dad wasn’t so smitten with my mom. Rarely, if ever, does he go against his wife on anything. I can tell he doesn’t like my short skirt or bare midriff, but will he voice his discontent and risk upsetting Mom? Absolutely not. We’re both victims of Mom’s charm.

  Dad reaches towards the counter. He grabs his keys. “Ready to go?”

  I glance around the room. “What about Joey?”

  “He’s going to meet us at The Pier,” Annie answers, “so he can drive us to the concert afterwards.”

  I wait for my parents to object to Joey driving us an hour towards the city, but they don’t say a word. I eye them, confused. Normally, my parents would never allow me to ride so far with a friend. It’s not that they don’t trust Joey, they are just nervous about teenage drivers. But they remain silent.

  The four of us climb into my dad’s SUV. I buckle as Dad starts the engine.

  The drive to The Pier is a little more than ten minutes. My family lives in a nice neighborhood on the south hill, overlooking the lake. We live less than three miles from the popular restaurant. The winding, two lane roads down the hill are the only reason the drive takes as long as it does.

  As we pull into the parking lot, my eyes instantly land on Joey. He’s leaning against a brand-new Toyota Corolla.

  I scramble out of the SUV before we come to a complete stop. My mom protests, but it’s too late. I’m already closing the door behind me. I rush towards my friend.

  “Is that your car?” I ask, excitedly. Joey’s parents had been hinting he was going to get a big graduation gift. I thought it might be a laptop. Annie was the one who suggested it could be
a car.

  Joey laughs and pats the side of the blue vehicle affectionately. “Yep, she’s all mine.”

  “She?” Annie appears beside me. “You already named it.”

  “You bet. Her name is Sarah. Sarah, meet my friends.”

  I roll my eyes and laugh. Joey and Annie are also laughing.

  My parents arrive, and my dad congratulates Joey on his new car. The two proceed to walk around the exterior, checking out the vehicle and discussing all of its features. They lose my interest when they start discussing horsepower and torque.

  Mom shakes her head and suggests we go claim our table. Annie and I follow her inside The Pier. It’s not quite five yet, but the hostess seats us anyway. Looking around, I see the restaurant isn’t busy yet. The dinner crowd probably won’t arrive for another thirty minutes or so.

  We sit down and order drinks. Mom sticks with water. Annie and I order sweet tea. The waitress quickly returns with our beverages.

  I’m in the middle of taking a sip when a sharp pain stabs my chest.

  “Ah!” I cry out, leaning forward. I put my drink down and press both hands against my chest.

  “Ronnie?” Mom’s voice is laced with concern. “Are you alright?”

  “My chest hurts,” I tell her, rubbing the tender spot.

  “Did your tea go down the wrong tube?” Annie asks, trying to be helpful. Though, she couldn’t be more off base. I’d never been stabbed with a knife, but I imagined this is what it would feel like.

  I shake my head and breathe in through my nose and out of my mouth.

  Dad and Joey arrive. They sit, still talking about Joey’s new car, until they see my pained expression.

  “Sweetheart?” Dad frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  “Her chest hurts,” Mom explains. She turns and asks me, “Did you eat something spicy today?”

  I exhale and say, “No.” This definitely isn’t heartburn. I drop my hands and try to straighten my spine. The movement tugs the skin across my sternum, and I barely hide my wince.

  Everyone is looking at me. I paste on a weak smile. “It’s alright. I’m fine.”