Wicked Souls: A Limited Edition Reverse Harem Romance Collection

by Rebecca Royce

  She gave me a soft, sad look. “Vince, you know I have to go.”

  I folded in half and kissed her lips softly. “Do you? Hasn’t Lincoln protected you so far? We could keep you safe.”

  She shook her head, and I knew the stubborn look in her eye. We’d all tried to convince her that she could be with us, that we could be a family, but I think she was scared. Scared we’d cast her aside. Scared she’d be a shitty mother like hers was. But we had another two months to convince her.

  She gave me a tight smile. “We’re going to the party, Vincent! Pull out your sexy bunny suit, because I’m to be the envy of every girl there.”

  I rolled my eyes, but pleasure blossomed in my chest. It was a thrill that had nothing to do with drugs or driving my Maybach too fast around winding, mountainous roads, and everything to do with her. She sat up, and I knew she was done with our conversation. So when my manager rang again, I answered and promised I’d be there. I just needed three extra tickets.

  When the limo pulled up to the warehouse, there was a fucking red carpet. Jesus, I was getting too old for this bullshit. Still, I looked at the people inside the limo with me, and thought maybe this party wouldn’t be so bad if they were here too. Lincoln looked tense, but I leaned across and kissed him.

  “It’ll be fine. The security here is tight. No one is getting our girl.”

  Lincoln was dressed in a black tuxedo, his hair slicked back and a gold rolex on his wrist. I knew he had a crazy amount of firepower tucked beneath his expensively tailored jacket. Apparently, he was going as James Bond. But damn he looked delicious as hell. Reese was dressed as The Lone Ranger, complete with a mask that he got from the sex shop near his office building. If he didn’t have the hat, I’d think he was about to pull out the riding crop and make me beg for mercy. Unlike Lincoln, his guns were entirely fake.

  But Star? She had gotten an alien face hugger and stitched it on the front of a white cocktail dress, and it looked like it was exploding out of her pregnant belly. It was hilarious and terrifying all at once.

  Someone opened the limo door, and I climbed out first. I was dressed as Willy Wonka, complete with a purple velvet suit and top hat. As I pointed my weird pimp cane at the crowd, there was a smattering of amused laughter from the paparazzi.

  I walked a little way up the carpet, drawing the paps so Star and the guys could get out of the limo, though I kept an eye on them as I worked it for the camera.

  When I was happy that Lincoln had her situated between himself and Reese, I walked toward the doors. I waited for them as they got past the security, ignoring the calls to Reese about the mystery girl. The door girl fluttered her lashes at me, and six months ago I would have fucked her in the coatroom. But not today. I just strolled past her, herding Celeste and the guys inside the warehouse. It was decorated with about as much tastefulness as a highschool gym, but the food was good and the booze was free.

  We quickly checked Celeste’s coat and moved further into the room.

  I saw my manager across the room, but I pretended I didn’t. I had a booth reserved in the back of the room, because if I couldn’t throw my clout around at my own label, what was the point? I ushered Star in first, and then Reese slid in after her. I sat on the opposite side, and Lincoln perched on the edge of his seat, his eyes roaming over the crowd.

  “Relax, Linc. We’re good.” A waitress appeared with a tray of champagne flutes, and I took one with my trademark smirk. The waitress flushed, but it felt wrong with Star here. So, instead of flirting like I would have done, I just squeezed Celeste’s knee under the table.

  Her eyes were taking in all the faces too, but not in the same way that Lincoln’s were. When her gaze stopped on a pop princess snorting coke on her table, her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

  Never meet your idols. There was wisdom in that statement. “What do you think?” I said, waving my hand at the writhing crowd, the already drunk starlets and the wall to wall bodyguards hovering around. I should have stayed home. I could have given Star a foot rub that would have eventually turned into me rubbing something else fun.

  “Can we dance?” she yelled over the music and I smiled. Hell yeah we could. Lincoln shifted out of the way, giving me a stern look. I just grinned and blew him a kiss. Later, I’d probably just blow him. Super protective Lincoln did wild things for my libido. Reese leaned over and kissed Star’s cheek, but his phone was flashing with an incoming call.

  Being CEO of one of the most progressive tech companies on the East Coast had its pitfalls, like being on call twenty-four hours a day.

  Lincoln remained standing. “Not too far away. Don’t move out of my eyesight.”

  I squeezed his hand and nodded. Normally I would have teased him about his overreaction, but when it came to our girl, I was completely on board with being good.

  I led her onto the floor, happy that there were no paps in here. It meant when Star started swaying her hips, I could move up behind her and let her grind up on me. She moved like she felt the music in her soul, and I moved with her. She was like a beautiful instrument as she threw back her head and laughed, and I desperately wanted to learn to play her. She was so free in the moment, so fucking gorgeous. The song shifted to something with a real slow beat and loads of bass. Oh, shit. It was one of my songs.

  Her eyes lit up as she spun in my arms, palming the back of my neck as she undulated to the music with me.

  “You have such a beautiful voice,” she purred. “It makes me want to touch myself.”

  Shock stilled my feet, my eyebrows almost all the way up to my hairline. I leaned closed. “Is that right?”

  She nodded. “I just imagine you singing all the dirty things you want to do to me.”

  I pulled her tight to my body. “Like how I want to run my tongue over every tempting curve of you?”

  She swallowed hard. “Uh huh.”

  “Or how I want to eat your wet little pussy until your juices make my cheeks shine?”

  “Vincent…” she whispered. Fuck. I wanted to find a dark corner and bury my cock in her wet heat right now. But I wouldn’t do that here, among these people. These posers and people who were desperate to make a few bucks by selling off a grainy photo taken on a camera phone in the dark.

  “Later, Star. Let’s just dance for now.”

  Her eyes were burning hot with lust, and I felt it brand me right across my damn heart.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lincoln

  I hated Halloween. Vincent would say it was because I was a killjoy, but it was because everyone hid themselves on Halloween. It was hard to discern friend from foe when everyone was dressed as Disney characters.

  I watched Vincent and Celeste grind on each other on the dance floor and it was making me uncomfortably hard in my tailored tux. Reese slammed his phone onto the table and sighed. “Problems?”

  He shook his head, taking off his black cowboy hat. “No. I’m just tired, you know? I’m tired of being CEO, tired of the twenty-hour work days. Celeste…” his eyes drifted to the dancefloor too. “She’s changed things. I want to be with her all day, not in meeting after meeting, going around and around over the same thing.”

  I nodded. Ever since the night I’d fucked her against the windows and bared my soul, we’d turned a corner, I guess. Also, being forced together all the time helped. Making love to her all the time helped too.

  Reese downed his glass of champagne in one mouthful. “What do you want to do?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. But I want to be around when the baby is born. I want to see it take its first steps. Maybe I can hand over some of the day to day running of the company to an executive board. I’ve built a good team. I don’t need to spearhead it all the time, do I?”

  He was asking the wrong damn person. I knew the easiest things to make a shank out of, but not much about Chief Financial Officers. “Do it, man. You’re richer than God. The company is doing well. One of us needs to be a good dad, and you had the best role m
odel,” I joked. Reese just got this soft look in his eye, the same one he always did when I mentioned how different our upbringings were. It’s not like I was trying to make a big deal of it, it was just a joke.

  I turned back to the dance floor before he wanted to have a deep and meaningful conversation right here. “They are like two layers of clothing away from having sex out there,” I grumbled, and Reese laughed.

  “They aren’t the only ones.”

  His complete lack of jealousy blew my brain. I was lucky, I understood that. And honestly, the idea of Celeste making love to either Reese or Vincent didn’t bother me as much as I knew it should. But when another guy, I think he was a famous DJ from memory, tried to dance up behind Celeste, every single one of my hackles raised. Fuck that.

  I narrowed my eyes. “We’re going home. This was stupid,” I growled and Reese had the audacity to laugh. But he began gathering Vince’s purple Willy Wonka jacket that he’d kept on for all of two seconds and Celeste’s purse as I strode across the dancefloor to where Vincent and Celeste were dancing.

  The party boy was dancing closer, his hands out like he wanted to grab her ass. Vince was too caught up in Celeste to even notice.

  When I was close enough, I slapped the man’s hand, and when he looked up at me outraged, I let death fill my face.

  “Touch her and you’ll want to hope that you don’t need hands to be a pill-popping jukebox. Fuck off.”

  The guy snarled and I kind of hoped he’d start something. But he just muttered something under his breath and walked away, and I watched him until he left the dance floor.

  “Have you come to dance, Lincoln?” Vincent yelled over the music, gripping my jacket and pulling me closer, until my body was pressed along Celeste’s back. I grabbed her hips to steady her, and the little minx rubbed her ass on my crotch. In her sky-high heels, we were more similarly matched in height, and if I slid my hand up her dress, pushed her panties to the side, I could probably fuck her right here on the dancefloor. As if she knew the direction of my thoughts, she looked over her shoulder and grinned.

  Temptress.

  I smirked and leaned forward, scraping my teeth down the back of her neck the way she liked, and I was rewarded by her full body shudder. My semi-hard dick was well and truly on its way to being achingly hard.

  “We should go,” I shouted to them both, and Vincent’s eyes met mine. They were filled with lust, and I knew he was probably as hard as me.

  Celeste frowned. “We only just got here,” she pouted, and I thrust my hard cock against her ass. She grinned again and this time it was all heat. “Oh, I see. Just because you can’t control your dick, we have to go home?”

  “Yes,” I whispered into her ear, and she trembled beneath my palms again.

  “We’ll make it worth it, Star,” Vincent crooned, and she gave us what I liked to call her snow leopard grin. It was wide and predatory, and it made me feel like a mouse that was being played with.

  “You better,” she cooed back, and then stepped from between us. Vincent winked at me and then stepped back. We tried to keep our relationship on the downlow in public. Vincent loved his music, but as it was, his sexuality was the only topic he was ever asked about in interviews. But if he got caught making out with me in public? His music would come second to his sex life in most people’s minds.

  I wondered what the press would say if they knew we were basically polyamorous now?

  Reese was standing on the edge of the dancefloor, Vincent’s purple velvet jacket over his arm. He just looked so fucking wholesome, like the kinda guy you could trust with your drink, your wallet, and your girl.

  Celeste bounded up to him and kissed him, uncaring about the fact that we’d been all but mauling her on the dancefloor. I was kind of glad that it was so packed out there otherwise we were definitely going to be front page news tomorrow.

  Who fucking cared?

  Not Reese, given the way he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her deeply. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he asked her, and she flushed so red that I could see it even in the darkness. She wasn’t great with compliments, and I could understand it. When you grew up being told how shit you were, it seemed unreasonable when people complimented you as an adult.

  But Reese wasn’t wrong. She was so fucking beautiful.

  We were almost at the coat check when Vincent’s manager finally caught up with him.

  “Vinnie! I’ve been looking for you all night,” he panted; he always looked like he was one line of coke away from a coronary. His eyes slid over me like I was part of the furniture, but he nodded respectfully at Reese. “Good to see you, kid.”

  Reese gave him a tight smile because it wasn’t in his nature to cause conflict. But Celeste had noticed his dismissal of me and I could almost feel her vibrating with anger beneath my hand. Vincent gave us an assessing look and threw Celeste one of his charming winks. “How about I meet you guys in the car? This won’t take but a minute.”

  I ushered Celeste away before she turned into the hulk, or Vince’s manager asked too many questions. She managed to stomp even in her heels.

  “He just ignored you like you don’t exist!” she raged, and I shrugged.

  “Vincent’s manager is one of the few people who know Vincent and I are a couple, and he likes to pretend I don’t exist or I’m just security. Doesn’t matter to me, angel.”

  Still, she looked absolutely pissed. Hormones? The line to the coat check was long, and Celeste kept throwing dirty looks back over her shoulder at Vincent’s manager. Reese gave her Vince’s purple Willy Wonka jacket, and smiled. “How about you guys go wait for the car and I’ll get your coat and wait for Vince?”

  She nodded, but still looked a little peeved. I guided her through the side entrance, away from the paparazzi. This was the side that the non-A list guests would arrive and depart from, and it was bustling.

  I quickly sent a text to the driver, and he replied that he was seven minutes out. I helped Celeste into the purple velvet jacket, and it hung down to her knees, and I couldn’t help my smile. She looked like a tiny pimp from the seventies. She wrapped her arms around my waist, still grumbling against my chest about social injustice and I laughed.

  “It’s the way it is. Vince and Reese? They are a big deal. I am just the muscle.”

  She stepped back and punched me in the shoulder. “Don’t talk bullshit, Lincoln. You are just as important as Reese and Vince.”

  I pulled her back into my arms. “To you? I can only try to be. But to the rest of the world? I mean next to nothing. Replaceable security. Just another gorilla in a suit.”

  “I like gorillas,” she muttered and I grinned. I leaned down and kissed her softly, with more tenderness than I thought I possessed.

  I saw the limo coming up behind a town car, and I walked further down the carpet, past the clusters of people already swaying on their feet. It was barely even ten yet, and these people were completely high.

  The town car shuddered to a stop and two clowns climbed out.

  I narrowed my eyes. They looked wrong.

  It was my final thought as one lifted a gun and the sound of the gunshot echoed off the surrounding warehouses. The slug to my chest pulled me from Celeste’s arms and my world went silent.

  Shock blanked my vision, and when it came back online, the second clown appeared, dragging Celeste from my arms as I sunk to my knees. She kicked and screamed, but it meant nothing as they stuffed her into the car, a gun to her head.

  My body stopped working and my legs gave out completely. I sunk to my knees, my hand desperately trying to find my gun beneath my jacket, but instead came away stained red with blood.

  The town car peeled away from the curb as security surged from the building, and I slipped to the side.

  I’d failed again. She was gone and so was I.

  The End (For Now)

  That cliffhanger was brutal, right? Don’t worry, The Lost and the Hunted - Book Two is due to be release
d any minute now. You can preorder it here The Lost and The Hunted: Book Two. Also, don’t forget to leave a review! Reviews make the indie author world go round, and without them we can’t continue to write the books you love.

  About the Author

  Grace McGinty is eclectic. She has worked as a chocolatier, a librarian, a forensic accountant and finally, a writer. Like her professional career, the genres she writes are also eclectic. She writes romance, reverse harem romance, fantasy, contemporary young adult and new adult books.

  She lives in rural Australia with her crazy family, an entire menagerie of pets, and will one day be crushed by her giant piles of books that litter every room.

  Head over to www.gracemcginty.com and join her mailing list for sneak previews into what she is working on and to stay up-to-date with new releases and giveaways!

  Join Grace Online

  www.gracemcginty.com

  Facebook

  Twitter

  Instagram

  To Creepy With Love

  Morgan Jane Mitchell

  About To Creepy With Love

  In the town of Creepy, Louisiana, Sissy outlasted the zombie apocalypse, but when other survivors arrive, she finds herself with another dilemma, too many men to choose from.

  One

  Dead End read the neon yellow street sign next to my mailbox. I peeled down the mouth of the red metal rectangle just like I did every morning and bent to peer inside only to find nothing but a dark emptiness that seemed to go on for eternity. Shutting it quickly, I shook off the chill that zapped me.

  Taking a deep breath of sweet Louisiana air, I turned around to walk the half mile back to the house. Starting every morning with a brisk walk was what I’d always done and would probably always do. My papa called me a creature of habit when he was alive. When I reached the wraparound porch, I spotted the rising sun plants he’d tended with such care. My eyes flitted from them to all the watering and yard work I needed to do later when the heat let up. Currently, a symphony of chirps and buzzes filled the air. The bugs were out in force, meaning it would only get hotter. Two white porch swings hung longways on either side of the front door and beside them stood two huge, goblet shaped pots. Colorful, nameless blooms sprouted, trailing down their sides as to cover all the bases. Along our yellow creole cottage with its drab avocado shutters, where the deck draped around the corners were stylish white benches and glass topped tables, each with their own accompanying garden. My favorites, the maypop passion flowers, lined the white trellises with purple on each corner. All my papa’s doing.