Emerald Vows: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (Marked Souls Book 3)

by Sabrina Shelley

  “Don’t look so nervous.” Nico pulls me to him, smoothing his hands down my shoulders and pressing his lips against mine. “You should be excited to meet her—she’s excited to meet you.”

  “That doesn’t soothe my nerves at all,” I tell him with a little laugh.

  But whether I’m ready or not, Nico’s mother is certainly ready for us.

  “Well don’t just stand there!” A husky voice calls out to us from beyond the tides. “Wade on out, you little scoundrels! Lunch is on!”

  A buxom woman with a mess of ruddy brown hair waves to us from the deck. I can’t help but smile at her and wave back.

  “Can you swim, little witch?” Ryker asks me. He doesn’t seem too keen on getting into the water himself.

  “Not well,” I say, “But a little. The better question is…can you?”

  Ryker laughs, even though I can hear a note of anxiety behind it. “I’ve been inside the heads of dolphins and sharks, sea lions and killer whales, little witch. Yes, I can swim.” He chuckles again as he takes off his shirt, revealing his bulging pecs and washboard abs—and the mark we share along with them. “It’s only, the Regime had me locked up in that cell you broke me out of for a good long while. Spent too much time in the head of that damned cat.”

  “Fido!” My mouth falls open in a soft little O. “We left him at Aisling! Ryker, is he—”

  “Fido’s fine,” Ryker reassures me. “Left him snooping around Aisling for us, just in case. Don’t you worry, little witch—he’ll have plenty to eat. Wherever the Regime is, there’s always sure to be plenty of rats.”

  I look behind me to see that Drew, Xander and Killian have already stripped down to just their pants. Before me, Nico and Ryker have done the same. Then I look down at my own attire, all of which is going to end up waterlogged and stiff with salt if I swim in it.

  I catch Nico’s eyes and see him reach the same realization I have.

  “Mum will fix you up when we’re on board,” he promises.

  I feel all five sets of eyes focused on me as I shrug, pull my shirt up over my head and wiggle my pants down into the sand.

  “Are we going to stand around gawking all day, or are we going to go in and get what we came here for?” I ask them, a sly little smile on my lips.

  Drew and Ryker laugh, caught red-handed and immediately make themselves busy with looking literally anywhere else. Killian turns away, a gentle blush on his cheeks. Xander’s gaze lingers a moment longer, then he shrugs and begins to wade out. Only Nico’s eyes continue to take in my body in my bra and panties—and he doesn’t show any signs of looking away anytime soon.

  “Need something, Nico?” I ask, crossing my arms over my ribs.

  “Oh, I need, Rory.” Nico claims another kiss before pulling me into the water. “Maybe tonight, hmm?”

  “Maybe,” I say. “Let’s see what your mother has to say first.”

  I tiptoe into the water gingerly, Nico’s hand in mine. When it gets deep enough, Nico dives in. Ryker seems to be a proficient swimmer too, despite whatever feline inclinations Fido has left with him. Killian and Xander swim beautifully too, like they were trained in it competitively or something.

  Leading up the rear, it’s just me and Drew. We’re both city brats who would have been lucky for a chance once or twice a year to go to the public pool—before the Regime closed it down, anyway.

  “Are you still grumpy about this whole Arendale family reunion thing?” I ask him, seeing the way he grimaces as we dog-paddle together.

  “I’m just thinking that if this goes tits up,” Drew says with a sputter and a glower, “I’m not looking forward to the swim back.”

  But as Drew’s hand brushes past mine while we wade, he can’t seem to help but giving me an apologetic little smile for being such a grump. So he knows that he’s being an asshole, at least—it’s always something I’ve liked about him.

  When we finally reach the edge of the boat, Nico and Ryker grab me by the arms and pull me up. They leave Drew to struggle with the rope ladder—although, I can’t imagine he would take kindly to help from Xander or Killian right now anyway.

  As soon as I’m on deck, a massive blanket is unfurled around me and I’m enveloped in a soft, tight hug.

  “Well aren’t you a beauty, love!” Nico’s mother kisses me on both cheeks before I can even get my bearings. But when she pulls away from me, she’s smiling, and she smells like salt and lilies and bacon fat—and she thinks I’m beautiful, so I can hardly complain. “Come on, then—let’s get you inside. How was the water?”

  “It was, uh…it was nice,” I say lamely. Not that Nico’s mother notices.

  “Water,” Nico’s mother says fondly. “It’s like that, isn’t it? Now, you can call me Rose, love—I won’t be having any of this Mrs. Arendale nonsense. No man has ever tamed me or claimed me, so I’m not a Missus, understand? Rose will do just fine.”

  I give Nico a look of amused disbelief, but he only smiles at his mother fondly as she pinches his cheek.

  “She is a beauty, love,” Rose tells her son, sweeping us forward. “You’ve brought a beauty home for us. A good deal of men too, of course, but I’ve always said, if any son of mine swings that way, why, I’ve said—”

  “Rory’s men, actually, mum,” Nico says, a little tinge of red at his ears. “Not mine.”

  Rose looks at me with an intensifying fondness. “Ah. Woman after my own heart. Rory, is it?” She pops the door to the houseboat open and immediately we’re bombarded by a cacophony of sound and rampant feelings. “Well, Rory, welcome home.”

  I step through the doorway, expecting that we’ll be crowded—and for a second, it seems like we are. Half a dozen barefoot children race past us, roars in their throats and wooden swords raised. When they’ve passed, we’re met with two pretty ruddy-haired women passing a soup tureen between them. Nico kisses them each on the cheek before presenting me with pride.

  “My sisters,” Nico announces. “Courtney and Aster. Girls, this is Rory—my lady love and bonded witch.”

  “Rory!” either Courtney or Aster exclaims, pulling me into a hug. “A witch, are you?”

  “She’s a beauty, Nico!” says either Aster or Courtney, joining the hug.

  “She is,” Nico agrees. “Mum’s already said.”

  We traipse deeper into the houseboat, running across a sallow-skinned man pacing with a map in hand, deep in thought; a broad, hairy-chested man elegantly throwing knives around the silhouette of a pretty, unflinching brunette woman; more babies, toddlers and sticky-fingered little rugrats than I can even count; and finally, an elderly woman who spits on Nico’s shoes, hugs him tight, then grabs my hand and runs her thumbs over the markings on my palms. She reels back for a moment with an oh, shit look on her face, chuckles to herself about something unknown, then pats my hand gently, crossing herself as she wanders off muttering beneath her breath.

  “Nana Arendale,” Nico explains. “She’s harmless—as long as you don’t cross her.”

  “Nico…” I duck as a massive gray parrot with red-tipped wings flies overhead, unleashing a predatory caw. “This place is huge!”

  “I did warn you, darling,” he says with a wink. “Bigger than it looks.”

  “How, though?”

  “Mum’s a witch.” Nico shrugs—obviously this isn’t his area of expertise. “You ought to ask her—maybe she’ll show you.”

  We’re all led over to a massive table downstairs. It seems to stretch out endlessly, set with mismatched chairs and a rainbow array of brightly colored china plates. From the silverware to the wine glasses, the entire spread clashes so badly that it actually kind of goes together, in a weird sort of way.

  “This place is a fucking nuthouse,” growls Ryker as he takes a seat next to me.

  “That’s offensive to nuthouses,” Drew agrees, sitting across from us. “Rory, tell me you’re feeling this?”

  I laugh, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Oh, I’m feeling i
t alright. Nico…” I look up at him as he takes the seat to my other side. “Is it always so…so…”

  “Intense?” he suggests. “We’re empaths, darling. Where we gather…emotions tend to run high.”

  He can say that again. It feels like there’s a different emotion coursing through me every time I so much as fucking blink. Whatever high, low or otherwise that each of the Arendale clan seems to be experiencing as they enter the dining room hits me like a sack of apples to the gut. The kids are especially difficult—one baby is brought in wailing and screaming, and suddenly a wave of nausea hits me. Another baby is carried in right after it and the nausea is replaced with the most intense hunger I’ve ever felt.

  “How the fuck did you live like this?” I hiss at Nico, riding a wave of suspicion briefly before it shifts into an intense euphoria. “I’m getting emotional whiplash just sitting here.”

  Nico merely smiles and pours us all glasses of wine. My glass is a beautiful green crystal; it turns the brown of Nico’s hair when the wine is poured inside.

  “Just ride the waves, darling. If they get too choppy, work on filtering them out.”

  “And the rest of us?” Ryker grunts. His head is obviously spinning just as bad as mine is right now, and the rest of our party seem to be of the same mind.

  “Oh, suck it up,” Nico teases—but to his credit, he sends a wave of calm washing over us that seems to shut everything out for a little while.

  All around us, Nico’s sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins sweep in with plates heaping with food. I see rice the colors of orange groves and saffron, roasted eggplant dressed with olive oil and huge flakes of sea salt, crispy potatoes laden with sour cream and bacon and chives. In the city, this would be considered a feast of unthinkable proportions. Even the buffets at Aisling and Drew’s donut burgers don’t quite hold up to the spread before us.

  “Where does your family get all of this?” I whisper to Nico, leaning into him. I don’t want to offend—I’m genuinely just curious. “I haven’t seen this much food before in my entire life.”

  “Home-grown, some of it.” Nico snatches a sprig of buttery, bread-crumbed asparagus off of a passing plate and offers it to me. I nip the end off before he bites into it for himself. “Some of it traded for. Some of it charmed into our capable hands. Some of it stolen.” Nico’s eyes flash wickedly at the mention of pilfered goods.

  “From those in need, I’m sure.” Xander sours at the mention of the Arendale family’s thievery. “It’s always so good to know that the vampires are well-fed while the city starves.”

  “Oh, let it rest, shifter.” To my surprise, it’s Ryker who comes to Nico’s family’s defense. “The Regime robs the food from my land, the vampires steal the food from the Regime. Circle of fucking life. Let’s not pretend any of this would have made into the city anyway. I’d be surprised if it made it past the plates of the esteemed fucking North family and friends.” Ryker helps himself to another glass of wine—between the drink, the atmosphere and the promise of food, he seems to be in a much better mood. “At least it’s being shared at one table. Reminds me of my pack. Before—”

  Everyone at our end of the table quiets suddenly. Ryker, apparently thinking twice about dredging up his past any further right now, busies himself with finishing the wine and leaves it at that.

  “Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about the nature of acquiring things that do now belong to you, vargr?” Nico asks.

  “No,” Ryker grunts, raising an eyebrow and considering the question further. “But I reckon I like your family okay, Arendale. They’ve got a good vibe to them—and great wine. Even if it is stolen.” Ryker winks at me as he raises his glass and I breathe a silent sigh of relief.

  It looks like Ryker and Nico have patched things up. For now, at least.

  As long as we get the sapphires back, anyway.

  “Hungry, Rory?” The blanket wrapped around my shoulders is whipped away from me abruptly as Rose Arendale’s voice returns to the mix. She yanks my arms up by the wrists and drapes a pretty, dark green-beaded gown over my head before I can protest. It hangs loose and comfortable—heavy, but flowy too. I feel like an old-timey flapper out for a night on the town.

  “Starving, actually.” I’m salivating just breathing in all of these amazing smells.

  “Good, good. You’re far too skinny as it is, by my reckoning. I like a girl with a nice bit of appetite. The dress was mine,” Rose explains as she takes her seat at the head of the table. “Once, anyway. Too old and too fat for it now!” She lets out a roar of laughter, then accepts the wine bottle from Ryker’s massive fist. “You wear it well, love. You’ll have to take it off when you swim back, of course—but the whole thing’s beaded with magic and stitched with love. Consider it a belated bonding gift.”

  “A present from my family to you and me,” Nico explains. “To celebrate our union.” His fingers twine with mine. My palm glows at his touch. “It used to be a whole thing, when a witch found her guardian—long nights of dancing and drinking and bonfires as far as the eye could see.”

  “Nana Arendale had fireworks at hers,” Rose reminisces. “They’d have debutante balls for all of the newly awakened witches back in those days. Held them on summer solstice—then the bonding festivities would stretch all the way into the fall.”

  “Grandad was a looker,” Nico reveals. “Deep pockets, too. Betrothed to the most beautiful witch in the city, wasn’t he?”

  “Before Nana Arendale blew in, anyway.” Rose breaks into a wily grin. “They thought he was going to bond to his betrothed, of course—and he wasn’t too keen on chancing it—”

  “But then Nana Arendale offered to blow him at the fountain in the center of the rose maze if he’d give her a kiss.” Nico laughs. “And the rest was—Ow! Hey!”

  “Serves you right, you little shit.” Nana Arendale lowers her cane with a scowl toward Nico, then leans over me to serve me some pork with a thick layer of golden crackling. “Those were better days, if you ask me. Ought to go back to ‘em. Enough of this Regime nonsense, I say!”

  “If only we could turn back time,” Rose agrees wistfully.

  Killian and I share a look. We’ve got our in. “Actually, that’s what we’ve come to ask you about, Rose. A bag of traveler’s sapphires was left under protection on vargr lands, and Nico thinks you might have—”

  “Potatoes, Rory, love?” Rose shoes Nana Arendale away and serves me up a massive helping of potatoes, continuing on without missing a beat. “Now—vargr lands, that’s an interesting story. Some claim that all the land belongs to the vargr—I’m sure your large friend here would agree.”

  Ryker grunts, nodding as he stuffs forkful after forkful of food into his mouth. For someone who was so strongly opposed to coming here, he sure seems to be enjoying himself now.

  “When a witch was drawn out to the wilds, we always knew she was to be bonded with a vargr,” Rose explains. “The empaths, the shapeshifters, the travelers and the alchemists—even the elves, love!—we’ve all always made off best living close to the humans. But the vargr have always made their own way.” Rose raises her glass to Ryker, and, pausing his meal just in time to notice the gesture, Ryker raises his glass back to her.

  “Why so close to the humans?” I ask, even though Killian gives me a stern glare for it. I know we’re here to get the stones—but this is the first time I’ve actually had a chance to talk properly to another witch before, and I’m not missing out on gleaning whatever information off of Nico’s mother that I can.

  “Well, to use them, of course,” Rose says matter-of-factly. “Very silly people, humans. They buy love spells without believing in neither spells nor love—tell their spooky stories about vampires and doppelgangers without so much as a second glance to the empath swindling them at the bar or the stranger wearing Mummy’s face. Magic is power, love,” Rose instructs me. “And humans were blessed with none of it. Makes them the easiest to manipulate. Easiest to trick.”

>   I try to catch Drew’s eyes, but his cheeks are flushed a vibrant pink and his gaze is locked firmly on his plate—even though he’s obviously no longer interested in eating anything on it. Nico gives me a look of apology, but unfortunately, the damage has already been done.

  “Then the Regime came in and fucked it all to bits, didn’t they? It was better when we were merely in hiding,” Rose prattles on. “All the best moves are made from the shadows, love, mark my words. When we started using magic to oppress the humans, instead of just fooling them every once in a while to make ends meet…ah. It was the end of an era—and look at where we are now!”

  “So many of the best families of witches, dead and gone,” Nana Arendale caws as she shuffles past, a trembling empty gravy boat in one hand and her cane in the other.

  “My own guardian was a shifter, of course, rest his soul,” Rose says fondly, nodding to Xander. “From the Hodge family, of course—nothing like yours, Mr. North.”

  “How did he die?” I ask softly. I suddenly feel sorry for Rose—I can’t imagine losing any of my guardians like that.

  “Oh, no. He didn’t die, dear. I killed him.” Rose sips smartly at her wine and swirls it around in her glass. “Bastard always thought he was right about everything—always knew what was best. Then one day, he lays hands on me—trying to stop me from my own will by force, the idiot—and then, I tell you, he learned right quick that he didn’t know what was best for himself.”

  “Ah…Are the Arendales the empath side of your family then?” I ask, feeling awkward now. The atmosphere of all of this changed when Rose started talking about humans like they were no more than stupid cattle—now with Drew offended, Rose confessing to murder and the rest of us on edge, I’m just looking for the right point to ask about the stones again so we can leave.

  “And the witch side, too.” Rose nods, sucking the marrow from the bone of a braised oxtail. “All the Arendales are empaths, of course—but some of the girls do become witches. We trace the lines between the women, not the men—easier to track the magic that way. We’re flighty birds, us Arendale women.”