Book of the Dead: AESLI-00: (A reverse harem, post-pandemic, slow-burn romance) (The JAK2 Cycle, Book 1)

by V. E. S. Pullen

  But it wasn’t Mr. Kalkunen who said “What the fuck are you doing, Callis?” and I spun in place to find Sev behind me, but it wasn’t Sev. His t-shirt was black, for one thing, and his tattoos were back, and also his nose was slightly crooked like it had been broken before.

  “Distracting myself,” the violator of personal boundaries replied, and I don’t know why but it sounded like a taunt.

  “Sasha?” I whispered and he glanced down, giving me a sharp nod, before moving between me and the guy who just crossed a major line, but I couldn’t deal with their posturing right now, my face was starting to burn from whatever cologne or aftershave he was wearing that he rubbed on me. I pushed between both of them and ran for the closest bathroom, adrenalin surging.

  Chapter Four

  Azzie

  I barely took the time to drag off my hoodie before I was splashing cool water onto my cheek and neck, trying to clean off whatever chemical soup he’d gotten on me without resorting to the harsh, industrial hand soap the school stocked.

  After a half dozen or so handfuls, the burning itch had begun to fade, and I calmed down significantly — until that moment, I hadn’t realized I’d been crying as I frantically tried to clean the crawling sensation off my overly-sensitive skin. A few more scoops of water, getting my whole face now to try to alleviate the signs of crying, then I was carefully patting down my skin with the rough paper towel from the wall dispenser.

  My t-shirt was soaked so I peeled it off, fine with wearing the camisole alone under the hoodie for the rest of the day. I dug in the biggest front pocket of my backpack until I’d found my jar of skin cream, then carefully applied the special blend of raw honey and coconut, olive, tea tree, and lime oil that Rachel made for me by the gallon. Immediately I started to feel better, and my frantic heartbeat began to settle.

  “Better?” The deep, rough voice from the doorway scared the shit out of me and I fumbled, dropping my jar of lotion onto the tile floor where it shattered, splattering glass and precious unguent all over my legs. I’d bent over to try to catch it and instead clunked my chin on the edge of the sink, causing me to bite my lip which began to bleed. A lot. “Jesus Christ,” Sasha swore, lungeing across the bathroom toward me as I reeled back from the sink, blood coursing down my chin and dripping down to form lovely starbursts of red against the splash of pure white skin cream. I stared at it, fascinated.

  Warm hands held my shoulders, keeping me upright and steady, as a long haired version of Sasha held a spicy smelling white cloth against my mouth, staunching the blood. I blinked at him, utterly confused.

  “Triplets,” he confided with a soft smile. “I’m Luka.”

  “Azzie,” I rasped.

  “I know,” he studied my face then pulled the cloth away, cursing when the blood welled up again.

  “I’ve got a condition,” I choked out, the blood that had gotten in my mouth making my throat raw. Or maybe it was the adrenalin. Or seemingly countless other things. “Front of my bag, big pocket, there’s a first aid kit. It won’t stop on its own, I’ve gotta glue it.”

  The hands disappeared from my shoulders, and I felt less…stable without them. A flash of black out of the corner of my eye and then Sasha was there with my pouch of supplies. I went to reach for it but he stopped me, saying “Talk me through it. As much as you can, you know, around the bleeding and swelling.”

  I wasn’t up to arguing, so he washed his hands, opened up a packet of gloves, and then carefully cleaned around the split on the inside of my lip while Luka pulled it out and down for him — surely the sexiest thing they’d ever done to a girl’s mouth. But I’d shrivel up with mortification later, right now all I cared about was that the white cloth Luka had been holding to my mouth was apparently his shirt, and— and— there just aren’t enough words for beautiful in the English language. Tanned skin stretched over smooth, firm muscles, illustrated with colorful pictures I couldn’t fully make out, but I’d be willing to give up a kidney to have some time to study them.

  Before I’d done much more than stare dazedly at his chest, the glue was dry and Luka released my lip, running a fingertip gently back and forth over it — checking for swelling, I guess? I raised my eyes and his were focused intently on his finger for a moment until they met mine, and something dark and electrifying jolted between us, leaving behind a phantom sting. I blinked, and only then did his finger drop away as Sasha said “Sev has the truck out front. Let’s get her cleaned up and we can be back after lunch.”

  I began to protest, then Luka shifted a bit to unfurl his bloody shirt, and I saw myself reflected in the mirror over the sink.

  I was paler than normal from the rough weekend I experienced post-meds change and the bigger blood draw that morning. My eyes were a bit sunken and swollen simultaneously, which was impressive in its hideousness, ringed with dark circles from exhaustion and reddened from crying. My cheek and neck were a bit raw looking from irritation and the scratching I couldn’t stop myself from, my bottom lip was swollen, and there was blood all over my mouth, chin, neck and chest where the scoop neck of my cami left it bare, all the way down the front of my shirt to my belly button.

  I looked like a freaking vampire, but not a sexy one seducing mortals on a TV show, I looked like a fucking parasite or Nosferatu-wannabe.

  “Oh. My. God,” I moaned, completely mortified. “I’m a monster—”

  “Maybe a vampire,” Sasha said, studying me.

  “—a hideous beast—” I wailed.

  “One of those sexy vampires from that TV show,” Luka agreed, nodding at his brother.

  “—I’m disgusting—” I cried, frantic to get my hoodie back on and covering all my scars and bruises, and I hadn’t even thought once about my arm just out there, bare to two of the most beautiful men in the world — fucking triplets! — I was scrambling to cover up and clean the blood off simultaneously as Sasha leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed and Luka examined his shirt, trying to decide if it was wearable, then giving it up and tucking it in to hang out of his back pocket, just walking around shirtless like that wasn’t a criminal act of indecency that would result in riots and more bloodshed.

  “You’re fine,” Sasha said, hiding his smile.

  “I look like I just fed off an innocent child or hapless tourist!” I shouted at him, unwilling to concede the point of my disgustingness.

  “If you did, then apparently I held it down for you,” Luka said, checking his blood smeared arms and chest with a frown. “It got everywhere — did you see my shirt?”

  “Yes and you should put it back on,” I kept my eyes averted but waved in his direction. “That’s not appropriate.”

  “What’s not appropriate?” He seemed genuinely confused and Sasha was struggling to keep in his laughter. I glared at him. He knew damn well what the problem was. “Being shirtless? I’m a guy. It’s okay for guys.”

  “It’s not okay!” I shouted again, then took a couple deep breaths. “It’s not okay,” I repeated, “Not for you.”

  “What? Why not?” he was legit upset, and I opened my mouth to explain when another deep voice spoke from the doorway.

  “I’m guessing you’re distracting,” Sev contributed, and I glared at him with one of my ridiculously potent glares.

  “What is it with you three lurking in doorways and sneaking up behind girls. You’re menaces,” I snapped, catching all three in my intimidating death ray.

  “Fuck you’re adorable,” Luka said, abandoning the examination of his torso in the mirror as he attempted to figure out why he wasn’t allowed to take his shirt off, his scowl dropping completely as he somehow bypassed my wrath, smiling at me openly.

  “Like an angry kitten,” Sasha agreed, “but you should have seen her sleeping in class. Snoring like a damn lumberjack.”

  “I DO NOT SNORE!” I stomped toward him, fist raising up, before I managed to restrain myself and back away. He sputtered with laughter, Luka joining in, so I snatched up my backpack and heade
d towards the door. Fuck them, fuck all this shit.

  Of course Sev didn’t move, not even a little, not even when I planted myself in front of him and turned the full force of my glare on him alone. His hands gripped either side of the doorframe up by his head and he looked down at me with unadulterated delight.

  “What was that one meme from years ago?” he called out to his brothers with his eyes locked on mine, “That weirdly cute animal that destroys everything in its path and doesn’t give a fuck?”

  “The honey badger?” Sasha asked, openly laughing now.

  “Yeah, the honey badger,” Sev repeated softly. “That’s you, just bulldozing through everyone around you, not giving a fuck, saying whatever you’re thinking. I like it.”

  “Get out of my way,” I growled at him, which just made his grin wider, his straight, white teeth showing, and I swear I saw a flash of metal in his mouth.

  “Not happening, honey b,” he whispered. “B as in badger, not bee as in buzz buzz. Though honeybee works too. As in the insect. But more like queen bee.”

  “What the fuck are you rambling on about?” Luka had wandered over and was standing behind me, radiating heat like a furnace at my back. He was close, too close, but it didn’t bother me like it did when that other guy had invaded my space. I had the strongest impulse to lean back against him.

  “Do it,” Sev murmured, and I stiffened. How the fuck did he— “You’re tired, and you’re cold, and he’s right there. He won’t mind. Trust me.”

  I don’t know what the hell was happening, but Sev’s voice had some kind of hypnotic quality over me and it sounded perfectly reasonable for me to relax backward against Luka, letting my bag fall to my feet as I rested against his solid frame, warm and steady. He braced himself, but didn’t move otherwise, didn’t try to manhandle me or grab at me, he just stood there and let me lean against him like he was a wall. A warm, smooth wall that thumped rhythmically inside.

  Sev watched us, approval and satisfaction in his expression, and I shut my eyes, only then hearing the scrape of paper and glass against the tile floor and I realized that Sasha was cleaning up the broken jar, skin cream, and blood. I stiffened back up, my eyes snapping open, and Sev shook his head as Luka’s arms circled me, pulling me back against him once more.

  “He’s almost done,” he said. “It’s fine.” I shook my head, wanting to protest, but Luka didn’t release me and Sev’s weird voice-voodoo stole my will. “He’s almost done. We’ll take you home, get you cleaned up, eat some lunch, then be back for fourth period.”

  All that sounded fine.

  I don’t know if I was in a trance or just falling asleep or what, but the next fifteen minutes seemed to pass in a daze, a series of snapshots in my memory rather than moving pictures with voice and motion.

  Sev carrying my bag, leading us down the hall.

  Stepping through the door and seeing the sun hit Luka’s bare skin like a caress, the breeze whipping his shoulder-length blonde hair into a halo around his head.

  Sasha lifting me up into a familiar and unnecessarily tall pickup truck, right into Luka’s arms. The truck that almost hit me this morning.

  Driving down the street with the windows open, the sun shining, and the boys singing along to an old Breaking Benjamin song. Luka’s voice vibrating in my bones.

  I must have dozed off or passed out or something, because I woke up when Luka passed me down to Sasha and I found myself in a strange driveway outside a two story house I didn’t recognize. “I thought you were taking me home?” I mumbled nigh-on incoherently as Sasha carried me towards the front porch and up the stairs.

  “We did,” he assured me. “Our house. We don’t know where you live, silly.”

  “Probably for the best,” I agreed, shutting my eyes again. “There were sinister men there this morning, and I’d rather avoid them as long as possible.” His stillness woke me up enough to realize what I’d said, and my eyes popped open.

  “What was that?” he asked, his voice dangerously calm, tension radiating from every muscle in his body.

  “What?”

  “What you just said about sinister men at your house looking for you.”

  “I said that? That’s weird. I think that’s what I was dreaming.”

  He stared down at me impassively, and I chose that moment to realize we were standing on the stairs up to the porch, him cradling me in his arms bridal-style without an ounce of effort to hold me there. After a few more seconds of me squirming around trying to get my arm around his neck to hang on while he did nothing to assist me, he resumed climbing the stairs.

  “I’m awake now, you can set me down. I’m pretty sure I won’t pass out again.”

  “The ground is lava,” Luka assured me as he ran past and unlocked the door. “And you don’t have the right shoes.”

  “He’s lying,” Sev tossed back as he darted past us into the house, shouting back, “It’s because you’re a girl. Everyone knows girls can’t walk on lava.”

  I peered up at Sasha and he nodded solemnly. “You’d burn up if I set you down.” We’d made it into the house but immediately went through another door and started descending stairs before my eyes had even adjusted to the dimmer light, and I didn’t see any of the first floor. We ended up in a short hallway with a door on either side and one on the end, and that one was open and I could hear Sev and Luka making a racket.

  “Still lava?” I asked, and Sasha nodded.

  He carried me into the big, open room and finally set me down by laying me on a rumpled, unmade bed that smelled like him with a hint of sweat and stale corn chips. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, just odd. I sat up, resting on my elbows, and looked around.

  The room was quite large, with a standard drop ceiling and a mix of wood paneling and painted drywall walls. There were three twin beds scattered around the room, all of them unmade with the sheets and blankets in various extremes of disarray. Clothes dotted the floor and every flat surface, including the tops of all three desks although there was clearly stuff underneath them: a stack of books on one desk, a sports ball of some kind on another. The only relatively clean surface was a table in the center of the room with a sleeping laptop on it.

  Luka had disappeared through a door and I heard the sounds of running water. The three of them were talking to each other about things I didn’t understand, possibly in a foreign language, and eventually I gave in to the waves of exhaustion pouring over me and curled up on my side, my hands tucked into my hoodie pockets and my non-lava proof shoes hanging off the foot of the bed. I’m pretty sure someone removed my shoes and bodily dragged me up farther on the bed until my head rested on a pillow, then a thick comforter landed on top of me, the lights dimmed, and I was just done.

  As I faded into unconsciousness, I could swear I heard one of them say “Don’t get attached, she’s just a distraction” but I couldn’t be sure.

  At some point I was shaken awake, and a voice I recognized but couldn’t place asked me if I needed to take any meds for my condition or do anything special. I mumbled “oil change,” and then I was allowed to sink back into my dark, warm cocoon of pine and corn chips, sleeping deeper than I had for months. Quite possibly ever.

  Chapter Five

  Tai

  On paper, I’ve known Lieutenant Will Gomez since I enlisted — he was my unit commander during my first deployment — but what isn’t well known is that he’s from the Rez. He’s half Hopi, and used to visit his grandparents during summers growing up. He’s about a decade older than us but we knew him, and it surprised me when I saw him again the first time and he acted like we’d never met. It took some time and some proving myself before he let me in, and now? He’s why we’re here.

  I settled down on the stool and signaled the bartender. He pulled a draught and set it down on a napkin in front of me, the foam head running down the side of the glass. I let it sit before taking a deep swallow, watching the rest of the bar in the wall of wavy mirror backing the liquor bottles. The
re were so many people, all clumped together in groups laughing and bullshitting like not one thing had changed. I had a feeling of spatial disorientation, like it was five years ago and I was back in Germany, when Gomez made his way over and sat down next to me with a bottle of something local in his hand.

  “How was your first day?” he asked, staring straight ahead into the mirror like me, pretending not to notice my discomfort.

  “Weird,” I confessed, glad for the distraction but disturbed in a new way because I was still trying to put my finger on what bothered me about the whole situation. “It was just…weird.”

  “Explain,” he commanded, and then I was right back in the dust bowl, scared shitless, wondering if today was the day I’d catch a bullet or IED. I took another slug of my drink, buying time to return to the here and now.

  Finally, I said, “The only thing we did all day was give a phlebotomy to one girl and then process some of the blood before another tech came to pick it up. And I’m not even sure why we processed it, it was a therapeutic phlebotomy for polycythemia vera.”

  “Not sure what half those words were, Chandler, but what did you think of Jayne Stone?”

  “Who?”

  “The woman running your lab,” he said patiently, turning to look at me for the first time but since it was an are you an idiot? look, it didn’t give me the warm fuzzies or anything.

  “She never introduced herself or asked my name. The patient asked my name, about a half hour into her visit. In fact, they were pretty rude about not asking for my name—” I felt a tiny surge of annoyance thinking back to the morning, and how insulted I felt by them basically dismissing me as a professional and treating me like a piece of meat, like I was some pin-up, and then disregarding any contribution I made about her treatment protocol. It was so demeaning, like my brain didn’t matter and all I was good for was something pretty to look at— oh. Huh. Was that— was that how women feel?