Her Wolves: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Candace Wondrak

  What the hell was going on here? What did she mean by that?

  Iris handed her clothes and sent her into the room. “Go wash off. You smell like him.”

  Violet stumbled into the room, finding nothing much had changed. There were still loads of naked shifter woman, each and every one beautiful, in spite of the scars some of them had. They were still gathered in their cliques and chit chatted amongst themselves.

  But something did change, just not anything inside the bathing room.

  Violet. Violet changed. She smelled like a shifter now, used up and discarded like some toy. Violet herself couldn’t smell shit of a difference, but she knew the moment she walked in, clutching her clothes to her bare stomach, that the others knew. Their talking slowly stopped, and they all turned to look at her, appraising her with new eyes.

  A few of them made similar comments, one of us now.

  Violet was one of them. A female added to Fletcher’s official collection. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel too bad about it, but maybe that was because she’d had sex before, so it wasn’t like Brice took her virginity away while in front of a psychopath.

  A woman rushed to her side, muttering, “No. No, no—I can’t—he wouldn’t do that—”

  Violet turned, meeting the beautiful blue eyes of Ivy, who in turn dragged her to the bath in the corner of the room. Violet slowly dropped her clothes and reached around to take off her bra, letting it fall on top of the rest. She got in the water, closing her eyes when she felt its warmth envelop her completely. A warm, welcoming hug. Probably exactly how her vagina felt for Brice’s thick dick.

  Oh, she should really not be thinking about that right now.

  “No,” Ivy said again, getting into the bath beside her. The expression she wore was not a pleasant one. It reeked of distress and anxiety, but Violet was too tired to try to make her feel better.

  After all, Violet was the one who just got used, not Ivy.

  “Brice wouldn’t,” Ivy said, able to tell between the scent of her brothers easily, clearly, so she’d spoken his name with no hesitation. “He’s not that kind of guy. He wouldn’t…” Now she must’ve been trying to convince herself, for the evidence was there. Or, rather, it was dripping down Violet’s legs. Now, she supposed, it was in the bath they currently shared.

  Ew.

  Ivy stared at her. “Are you okay?”

  It took her a while to say, “I’ll be fine. It wasn’t…the worst sexual experience I’ve had, believe it or not.” Violet’s tone was flippant, mostly because she didn’t want Ivy to worry, didn’t want her to go to bed tonight and wonder whether her older brother was a rapist. “It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t want to.” She wasn’t sure why the hell Brice was even here, but that was beside the point.

  “But he did it anyway,” Ivy whispered, her eyes growing watery. “It was because of me, wasn’t it? Fletcher threatened me. Using me is the only way he could ever make Brice do something he doesn’t want to do.” Her eyelids fell, a single tear rolling down her face. “I’m so tired of this. I’m so tired of everything being about me. I’m just…I’m a shifter. I’m not special.”

  “You’re their sister. Everett and Brice love you. They’d do anything for you.”

  Ivy swiped at her tear, shaking her head. “Their feelings for me shouldn’t matter. There are just some things you don’t do, whether it’s for a loved one or not. These women hate me because Brice and Everett brought a lot of them in. When will enough be enough?”

  Violet didn’t know what to say, mostly because comforting someone had never been something she was good at. Also because comforting someone else right now was the last thing she should be doing. If anyone needed a shoulder to cry on, it should’ve been her.

  But she was strong. She wasn’t going to cry, and she was not going to keep thinking about what it felt like to be given head and get fucked at the same time.

  She needn’t have worried though, because soon an arm snaked around her back. Ivy hugged her tightly, murmuring, “I’m sorry, Violet. If I could change it all, I would. No one should have their freedom taken away.”

  It’d been a long time since Violet had been part of a hug, even longer since Violet actually wanted a hug. So long, it felt almost strange. More than a little bizarre to be cradled to another person, let alone a beautiful woman. Extremely odd to feel the need to hug her back.

  Violet rested her cheek on Ivy’s shoulder. Under the water, her arms moved to cling to her back, and for the next few moments, they sat there, sad. Together in their misery, together in their aloneness. They were strangers to each other, and yet Violet couldn’t help but feel close to Ivy, as if she’d known her for so much longer, as if they were friends. It was a comforting feeling, one she didn’t want to end, even though she knew they’d each be relegated back to their individual rooms as soon as this bath time was over.

  “I’m sorry,” Ivy whispered, running a wet hand through Violet’s hair.

  “It’s okay,” Violet said, even though it was the opposite of okay. “It’s not your fault.” That, at least, was the truth. None of this was Ivy’s fault, even if her brothers did everything in her name.

  Violet still wasn’t quite sure she understood what happened. Fletcher had forced Brice to be with her because of Everett? It was insane. Everett couldn’t really like her, could he? He’d known her for a day before handing her over. She wasn’t a wolf, not a shifter. She was one hundred percent human, and she’d stay that way until she died. There was nothing about her a shifter would like.

  But Everett had growled when Fletcher smacked her with the back of his hand—like some fucking slave master. He’d gotten lashed by a scary-looking whip because of it, because of her, his back probably scarred for life, even with his fast shifter healing.

  No. Just because he’d let out a growl, just because he’d been whipped, didn’t mean he really did like her—did it?

  And if it did, what did it matter now? What did it matter to Violet? She sure as shit wasn’t looking to gather a gaggle of shifter mates like Maia had. One mate was more than enough.

  Not mate. Partner. Ugh. Violet had to get away from shifters for a while; she was starting to think like them.

  “My brothers are good guys,” Ivy whispered against her forehead. When she inhaled, Violet felt her chest touch hers beneath the water, and she was stunned to suddenly recall she was in the arms of the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen.

  Maybe she should pull away; her hoo-ha had seen enough fun for the day, and there was no telling whether or not Ivy swung her way. Violet hadn’t heard anything about gay shifters. Or bi shifters. Or shifters who weren’t strictly rod-straight. She wasn’t certain how any of it worked, but as for what Ivy had said…she understood it perfectly.

  Ivy’s brothers were good guys, but even the good ones were capable of vile deeds and horrific acts.

  Chapter Fifteen - Everett

  Everett didn’t know why Brice had gone back to the compound so soon. He also didn’t know what his older brother would accomplish. Fletcher was smart. He would know something was up, and Brice had been snarky and rude to him so many times his back was a permanent mess—not like his own back, although one time under the whip was more than enough for him.

  Of course he knew it now: he shouldn’t have growled at Fletcher when he hit Violet. But at the time, Everett didn’t even realize he did it. He didn’t feel the growl building in his chest—it just happened, it came out with no warning whatsoever. Fast, sudden, undeniable.

  Similar to his feelings for Violet. They’d come down on him hard and swift, too strong for him to bother denying. Some might call it stupid, others might call it a form of lust, but Everett’s wolf didn’t waver, didn’t hesitate. His wolf didn’t want to claim her just to feel her body against his; his wolf wanted her in a deeper way, to shield her, to protect her.

  Why didn’t his wolf realize it an hour sooner? Why did it take seeing another shifter harm her to make him see? If Everett woul
d’ve known it sooner, Violet would never be in this mess, and the only person they’d have to worry about still would be Ivy.

  But no. He had to mess it up, and now he had to worry about both Ivy and Violet.

  Everett had the TV on, but most of the channels in this shitty room were staticky. It didn’t matter much anyway, because he wasn’t really watching. His back didn’t hurt anymore, and he’d been able to put on a shirt without worrying about bleeding on it. He was past the point of pain, more towards the itchy part of healing, when the wounds were scabs that practically begged for him to scratch at them, which would then only re-open the wounds.

  It was so hard keeping his claws to himself.

  Time went by in a haze. Everett lost himself in his own mind, wondering if Fletcher had already done something to Violet. If the bastard had already used her like he did the others. He often tried his best not to think about what went on in that place—it was bad enough Ivy was there, but now with Violet? He found he could not stop his mind from wandering there, to zeroing in on things he shouldn’t think of.

  He didn’t want Ivy hurt—that went without saying. She was his sister, his family. He loved her. But Violet? Everett felt for her in a different way, a way he wasn’t used to, a way he’d never felt toward someone else before, shifter or not.

  And she wasn’t a shifter. She was human.

  Everett still had a hard time putting it together, realizing his wolf had somehow fixated on a human that, theoretically, shouldn’t call for his inner wolf at all. But she was pretty, feisty. She had a mouth on her like no other, and the way she smelled of lavender, even underneath the faint smell of shifter…

  Damn it. He shouldn’t be thinking about her right now. He should try to hold off, at least until they got her out.

  Because they had to. They had to get them both out, and in a perfect world they would help get all the women out.

  But this wasn’t a perfect world, and Everett knew he should not hope for such things. It would be difficult enough focusing on Ivy and Violet, let alone the entire group of women Fletcher had at his disposal.

  Stupid. They’d been so stupid to help him. To kidnap the female shifters on his list and bring them to him, to believe Fletcher would ever let Ivy go. Everett had hated himself greatly in the last few years, turned into someone he hardly recognized, all for the sake of his sister. Ivy was a kind girl; she’d probably hate both him and Brice if they ever got her out. There was no way she was clueless to what they were doing, if she spoke to the other women, if the other women saw her hair and put it together…

  Everett plopped down on the couch, face-first, wanting to forget all his worries. Just one day, just one hour when he had nothing on his mind; it was all he wanted. Too much to ask of this life, he knew.

  Having his face buried in the couch cushions was not a fun thing. The smell that entered his nostrils was one of…body odor and various other bodily fluids. Okay, that was nasty. Everett sat back up, feeling the sudden urge to go wash his face or open the window. He wasn’t even sure the windows in this place opened. It gave a new definition to the word dive.

  Everett was in the kitchen—if one could call a mini-fridge and a microwave a kitchen—when he heard footsteps in the hall. Quiet footsteps, recognizable by the way his brother put all his weight on the sides of his feet when he walked. He closed the mini-fridge and turned to watch the door to the apartment unlock. He opened his mouth, ready to ask his older brother how it went, but the instant he entered the room, his voice caught in the back of his throat.

  That smell. Brice smelled like Violet.

  Brice slowly closed the door behind him, begrudgingly meeting Everett’s gaze, but only for a moment. He could not hold his little brother’s stare for more than two seconds, his blue gaze darting away, landing on the floor.

  Everett wanted to speak, but he found he could not. He could only watch as Brice made his way to the bathroom, his shoulders slumped.

  Something had happened, that much was clear. That much was obvious. Why the hell did Brice smell like Violet? And why did his older brother look so…perplexed? So depressed and defeated?

  The more he thought about it, the more confused and upset he became, so Everett stormed down the hall, following his brother. He slapped a hand on the door, stopping him from closing it as he met his brother’s eyes again. “Why do you smell like her?” he demanded. “What happened?”

  Brice stared hard at him for only a moment before his gaze fell to the sink on the vanity. He opened his mouth, like he was going to reply, but then quickly shut it, a vein in his forehead popping out.

  “What did you do?” Everett found the question hurt, because he supposed, deep down, he already knew the answer. He wanted to hear his brother say it, to admit it. Not to try to hide it or lie; they were family. They didn’t do that to each other.

  “You know,” Brice whispered. “Don’t make me say it. Just let me—”

  Let him what, shower? Let him wash her off? No, Everett deserved more than that, so he didn’t move from his spot. He remained firmly in place, his hand on the door, his glare furious on his older brother.

  “Fletcher…it was either her or have him hurt Ivy,” Brice muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. “How is that a choice anyone could choose between?”

  “You chose,” Everett said. The thought of Fletcher forcing Brice to be with Violet was one of the worst thoughts he’d ever had. Not only because Violet should never have to do anything against her will, but also because he knew his brother would never have done it otherwise.

  Still, it was hard to reconcile it. It was hard to get over it.

  Everett studied his brother, hating the way he smelled of her with a passion that burned brightly in his core. His wolf, stupid as it was, was jealous. If anyone should smell like Violet, it should be him and not Brice. Brice didn’t even like her. An idiotic thought that should never see the light of day again.

  “Did you hurt her?” Everett spoke timidly, afraid of the answer.

  Brice’s jaw tensed before he said, “I don’t think so. She didn’t fight me. She knew…she heard Fletcher’s threat against Ivy. I think she knew it was either her or Ivy, and I…I’d already made my choice.”

  Words Everett didn’t exactly want to hear, but he felt his rage starting to subside.

  “She saw Ivy, somehow. She said Ivy’s okay,” Brice added, “for now, at least. I’m sorry, Everett. When I went to Fletcher, I didn’t think…I didn’t think he’d make me do that.”

  Fletcher was where Everett’s anger lay; he knew his brother would never have done it if the bastard hadn’t made him, but it still felt like a betrayal of sorts. And Violet…would she ever be able to look at him the same way after what Brice did, assuming they got her out? Probably not.

  Wanting a human was a foolish thing indeed. They weren’t like shifters. Most humans had only one mate, and they often took years for their relationships to develop. Shifters weren’t like that. One female often had multiple mates, and relationships were formed quickly, almost instantly, if their inner wolves connected.

  Everett met his brother’s stare. It was obvious Brice wanted him to say something, desired his forgiveness for a deed he’d been forced to enact, but he couldn’t say it was okay, definitely couldn’t tell him it was alright. Because it wasn’t. It was the farthest thing from okay and alright as something could possibly be.

  So he settled for saying nothing, sliding his hand off the door and walking away, into the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back hunched over. It wasn’t a moment later when Everett heard the bathroom door close, and he knew Brice would try to wash the smell of her off. He’d succeed, mostly, but there would always be a lingering scent—at least to Everett. He would always look at his brother and know what he did to her, not of his own free will.

  What a horrible life they lived.

  Chapter Sixteen - Violet

  Violet was running. Where she was running to, she couldn’t say. Actually, s
he couldn’t even remember why the hell she was running, but she was. Barefoot, wearing her typical work outfit: shorts, a plain T-shirt, and a little apron big enough for straws, pens, and her tiny notebook to take down orders, even though she had most of the town’s favorites memorized.

  The town was oddly quiet, no cars or trucks zipping by on the streets. Main Street was exceptionally empty, even the diner had no cars parked in front of it. Violet didn’t care. She wasn’t going to the diner; and it was a good thing no cars were nearby, for she was running smackdab in the middle of the street.

  Her arms pumped at her sides, and she struggled to take off her apron. Violet had no idea why she had to take it off; it just felt stifling, one too many layers of clothing. Once it was untied, it flew away in the wind, carried up and off by a new, sudden breeze.

  Violet ran straight out of town. What was weird was the scenery—it changed on the drop of a dime, turning from a dusty, flat midwestern town to a grove of thick trees, the land under her feet hilly and mountainous.

  Where the hell was she going?

  She spotted a fenced-in area, and she made a mad dash toward the spot in the fence that was open. More like a gate, really. Dried up leaves crunched under her feet, and she stumbled to a halt before a house that looked as ridiculously expensive as any house had the right to be. Marble columns, multi-story windows, an attached garage with multiple garage doors. Its owner had to have lots of money.

  But Violet didn’t care about money. She never had. Sure, it was a nice thing to have, but she’d much rather have friends, family. She’d much rather of felt like she belonged, like someone loved her.

  She was…alone.

  Being alone hurt sometimes. Feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders, with no one around to help carry the burden. Violet always said she was fine being alone—and she was—it just sucked. It was a lonely existence. She wasn’t the type of woman who needed to be with someone to feel complete, but it would be nice to not feel so isolated.