Angel (A Reverse Harem Bully Romance): The Brotherhood

by K. M. Raya

  What I want to do is finish this nasty ass beer and then look for Beth and the girls so we can go home, but before the bottle even reaches my lips, those seawater eyes latch onto mine, causing his lips to tip into a mischievous grin.

  He heads this way. Inwardly I groan. It's like I have some sort of sign on my forehead or something. As he gets closer, I realize just how handsome he really is. Actually, he looks familiar to me, but for the life of me I can’t place him.

  “What's a pretty girl like you doing in a dump like this? Couldn't find any of the good parties?” he opens with and makes me want to roll my eyes from here to China.

  “Seems you and I have different ideas of what constitutes as a dump,” I mumble around a gross pull of my now very warm drink. I’m drinking more so to fill the awkwardness than real thirst.

  His blue eyes sparkle.

  “Beautiful and funny . . . a winning combination.”

  I squint at him.

  “Is this the part where I swoon and ask if you want to find a quiet place to talk?” I ask him as I shoot him my most withering look.

  They guy only smiles wider, showcasing those beautiful pearly whites of his. They make him look like a predator.

  "What the fuck are you doing here Finley?" comes a booming voice from behind me.

  Finley smiles too widely again as he turns his head to look over my shoulder.

  "It's a party, Ellis! You mean we weren't on the guest list?"

  My bullshit meter is spiking and I'm sensing something major about to go down.

  Ellis steps forward, the Brothers flanking him like soldiers. Their chins are raised and their shoulders are pushed back. They’re prepared for a fight. Something in their eyes promises violence.

  "We were just leaving, boys. Just wanted to introduce ourselves to Angel girl here." He nods in my direction.

  How does he know my name? I sure as shit never gave it to him.

  ‘Damn these tiny towns.’

  "Get the fuck out of here Finley, your kind isn't welcome and you fucking know it," Carter growls. He flexes his strong jaw and balls his hands into fists at his side.

  I notice that the crowd has backed up considerably, a good handful of them have even taken off around the side of the house just to get away. It’s as if they’re anticipating something big.

  As soon the thought hits, one of the mean looking twins pulls something from his pocket making myself and every single Brother stiffen.

  Brass fucking knuckles.

  ‘Didn’t realize we were dealing with an og . . .” I muse.

  He wears them so casually that I’m guessing it must be a regular occurrence and that makes me even more nervous. His twin mimics his actions while Finley just smiles. His blue eyes keep flickering to mine every so often. I have no idea why he’s taken such an interest in me but from the looks of it, the Brothers are pissed as hell.

  Without any warning, each boy takes a step forward as if pulled by some invisible string. The twins each swing for the closest Brother, which happens to be Holden and Captain. I stand there, acutely aware that their fists are missing my body by only hairs.

  A strange feeling wells up inside my chest. I feel a tingle of anticipation all over and my muscles are pleading with me to do what they are trained to do. I crack my knuckles uncomfortably. The boys are brawling and party goers make a mad dash for the house.

  Captain’s face is bloody and Finley has the beginnings of a black eye. This doesn’t seem like your average schoolyard scuffle. No, this has a sinister taste to it. This is fueled by something that runs deeper than dislike.

  Of their own accord, my feet take me into the fray. I’m not afraid of these boys. I’ve fought trained men during my time around the Mafia.

  I've ended a life . . .

  A flash of silver catches my eye. One of the twins has a knife, held low next to the pocket of his pressed slacks.

  ‘Fucking cheater.’

  He’s closing in on Carter while he’s not looking, but just before he can do some damage with it, I throw myself onto the dude’s back—my arm reaches down, prying the knife from his grip with startling ease.

  He’s in such shock that he doesn’t even fight me for it. With one hand, I hold the sharp point to his throat, and with the other hand I hold myself there on his back—head peeking over his shoulder as I feel his entire body stiffen.

  Everything stops.

  Every sound mutes.

  Fists stop flying and every eye turns to me. The Brothers stare at me with such a mixture of disbelief and awe on their handsome but very bloody faces.

  “I think we can all agree that whatever this is—“I nod my head between them and me, “Is fucking done . . . am I right?”

  My eyes must look wild because even Finley seems to back off. Both his and the other twin’s gazes are latched on to the knife still pressed against their friend’s meaty throat.

  "When I let this shitbag go, everyone who wasn’t invited is going to walk away, understand?"

  My voice soft and quiet but still a tad crazy and I think the guys are starting to realize I’m not fucking around.

  One by one they shake their heads, but not without glaring at each other first. This is far from over, I know that. But I let go of knife guy and he chokes out a deep cough, clutching his throat and eyeing me with disdain. I made him look weak and it's so fucking satisfying. Still, they don’t leave. My eyes track the other twin as he goes to reach behind him for something.

  "Are you really gonna make me ask you again?"

  Reaching behind me, I do something incredibly stupid.

  I pull out my tiny little handgun Mama bought for me to keep in a handbag, letting it sit comfortably in my hand as my arm hangs casually to my side. I don’t point it at anyone, but shit just got real with that blade and I’ll be goddamned if I’m going to let these guys scare me off.

  Staggering backwards, the boys collectively curse aloud. Finley and his meathead friends retreat finally, almost tripping over themselves and circling the back of the house until they’re out of sight. By now, the house has cleared out—no doubt the partygoers wanted nothing to do with whatever just happened here.

  I face all four of the guys, realizing that they’re being much too quiet. Each one of them looks at me in either anger, confusion or a mixture of both.

  "You’re welcome," I grumble, shoving the gun back into the waistband of my jeans.

  The blink at me.

  "Okay, first of all . . . what the fuck—“ Carter seethes. “And second, that wasn't your fucking place!”

  "I just saved you from a blade to the gut and that's all you have to say to me?” I huff. “Fucking ungrateful, you know that? Next time I’ll just let him play jump rope with your lower intestine."

  Carter steps forward, once more looking like he wants to hit me but is suddenly blocked by Ellis. He stands taller than Sunshine, but weighs much less. He’s lithe like a fighter.

  "You need to stay out of Brotherhood business, baby girl," says Ellis, his slate colored eyes searing into mine with an intensity that could make a lesser girl cower.

  "And you need to learn how to be discreet, Ellis."

  His eyes flare as I say his name for the first time, but I ignore the blatant heat there and continue before he can respond.

  "They approached me, not the other way around, so back the fuck off because this is getting ridiculous."

  For a moment each Brother stares at me, judging me.

  “The fact that you think that’s what this is about just proves what an idiot you are,” Carter spits before he’s cut off again.

  "Go home, Angel,” says Holden. His face is covered in drying blood that mats his brown hair to the side of his cheek.

  I snort, backing away slowly.

  "Oh, I'm going home—but not because you told me to. This town just got a little too crazy for me." I wave them off as I turn on my heel to leave the backyard.

  I don’t want to venture back into that sticky house, so
I round the side of the yard instead.

  I’m relieved when I spot Kara's car still parked down the driveway and make a mental note to thank the girls for not abandoning me after that fiasco. But before I make it past the shadows of the house, a hand grabs my arm and pulls me back roughly.

  "What are you playing at, bitch?"

  Icy breath wafts over my parted lips.

  As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realize that it’s Carter glaring back at me. His face is so close to mine that I can clearly see his pupils dilate.

  "Get off me." I pretend to struggle against him—knowing I could knock his ass flat out if I really wanted to.

  He holds me there, not painfully, but enough to make me stay put.

  "Not until you tell me who you are and what you're doing here. I saw you in the clearing—snooping around in places you don't belong. I want to know why!”

  ‘Holy shit.’

  "That was you?! What the fuck were you doing out there, you psycho? The animal masks? Are you and your boyfriends in some sort of cult?"

  Carter laughs—catching me off guard. Every time I’ve interacted with the stoic Carter Draven, I’ve never once seen a genuine laugh or any other emotion aside from anger touch his face. His laugh is mean spirited though. He lets go of my arm and lets my body rock back into the side of the house.

  "You know what? Just forget I said anything, clearly you don't know shit about shit. Just a word of warning though?" He reaches out and grabs a lock of my black hair between his fingers before swinging his eyes to mine. "Stay out of the woods at night. If you know what's good for you you'll stay tucked away in your little bed with your daddy's gun. You do that and we won't have any problems, understand?"

  A bitter laugh bursts out of me.

  "Oh fuck off, Sunshine, you don't scare me."

  An unreadable emotion passes over his pretty face before he covers it up with a blank, emotionless mask. He leans into me, lips grazing the lobe of my right ear.

  "I should scare you, baby. I really, really should."

  Chapter Six

  Carter

  I slam the front door behind me, ignoring the man posted next to it. He’s paid to observe and act only if there's danger.

  There's no danger here, unless you count the rampant fury that fills my veins, making me want to wring someone's neck with my bare hands. That fucking girl is driving me insane. Her smug ass smile . . . those chocolate eyes that see too much for her own good. I know it was her in the clearing that night, snooping and spying like the evil little witch she is.

  ‘Fuck!’

  I make my way upstairs to my private apartments. I don't bother being quiet or discreet, knowing my mother isn't home. She never is. She’s probably too busy organizing some charity function with Aria or fucking one of my father’s associates like always. Dear old dad isn't here either, most likely held up in his office or maybe killing some poor schmuck with Cole, but I’m glad for it. I don't think I have the mental willpower to deal with that level of crazy tonight. Not when I’m all wound up like this.

  My bedroom sits towards the back of the top floor with large bay windows that face the wide expanse of manicured lawn my mom and dad put in after knocking down the pine trees that once stood there. Just through the foggy glass I can see more of my father’s hired watchmen roaming the perimeter—their pressed suits look comically out of place against the backdrop of tall trees and fog.

  I have a kitchen of sorts, separating the space into two parts with a small sitting room in between. Not that I use the kitchen all that much. Jack Draven is the sort of rich asshole to have a hired personal chef to feed his household, regardless of whether or not he’s ever home to eat it himself. I can always count on some sort of pre-made meal waiting for me in my huge, stainless steel refrigerator. Miss Hannah—the chef, takes better care of this household than my own mother.

  The next few hours are spent in one of the seven bedrooms on my floor, this one I’d had converted into my own private home gym. I actually use this room even though I’m not an athletic sort of guy—none of my friends are either. In fact, the thought of Captain doing anything that doesn't require a pair of pressed pants and hair gel just makes me want to laugh . . . but then I think better of it. It’s not Cap’s fault he is the way he is. Giles did a number on my seemingly put together friend.

  None of us are the sportsman types, but I do like to stay fit. In this world, being in good health can be the literal difference between life and death sometimes. I need to look strong . . . be strong, just like my father and all the Draven men before me. So the gym is where I choose to spend hours of my free time after school or after a particularly trying day.

  I need to work off the adrenaline coursing through my system after the fight with Fin and his lug head friends. Just the thought of that motherfucker makes me want to hit something—hard, with a bullet.

  The Cassini family has committed atrocities the likes of which can never, ever be salvaged. The deceit runs too deep, the blood too thick to forgive and forget. His father, Alexi Cassini is no better than his worthless son. In all honesty, it surprises me that both Alexi and Fin are still breathing. I’d kill them both myself, but their deaths aren't mine to deal out.

  My mind flickers through memories of Finley's watery blue gaze as he’d stared down the new girl as if she were a steak. My teeth grind together and I clench my jaw tight the memory. My blood was boiling at the sight of them together—probably planning and plotting. That bitch is suspicious enough and I don’t trust her. I’d known it was Angel in the woods that night and it irks me to no end.

  ‘What did she see? What did she overhear? Who sent her?’

  These are the thoughts that will probably keep me up for many nights to come. Those . . . and some other thoughts I wish to the gods I could scrub from my stupid ass brain. But no matter how hard I try, I just can't rid myself of the image of her silky black hair grazing the edges of her milk white neck. Her skin looked so soft and supple that I’d found myself licking my lips as I’d held her there against the wall of Cap’s house. She’d felt so good beneath me and smelled like jasmine. It was enough to make my dick hard.

  Letting the weights I hold drop to the ground with a bang, I grab my long blonde locks in my fingers and pull in aggravation. Shaking my head I try to ignore the photographic memory of those warm, dark eyes that had stolen my breath in the parking lot that first day. I’d been blindsided, which doesn’t happen often. At first I’d mistaken her for another rich trust fund brat, but a single snarky word from her cherry red lips had sent my mind reeling.

  Who is this little vixen and why does she piss me the fuck off like never before? I need to get her out of my fucking head.

  After I left the party, I drove to Selene’s house for a quick fuck—something to take the edge off and get my mind back on track. But fuck me . . . I couldn’t even manage to get it up for a hot chick with long blonde hair and the biggest tits I’ve ever seen. I’ve been screwing Selene for about a year now, even after she went away to the college. She’s easy, slutty and available, but I could easily replace her with any one of the girls at my school.

  She tried hard tonight though, I’ll give her that. Like a champ she worked me with that plump mouth of hers until she was practically blue in the face but it was no use. No matter what she or I did, every time I closed my eyes the only thing I could conjure were those hypnotic eyes belonging to the one girl I loathe more than the devil himself.

  Angel fucking Valentino.

  Chapter Seven

  Angel

  I’ve grown used to the cold feeling of metal in my hands. It’s a bullseye every time.

  Firearms are pretty much second nature to me by now, Sal saw to that early on. Papa had done his best to prepare me for the dangerous life of a mob daughter, and so by the age of seven I’d been carrying. Little did he know how easily I’d take to my lessons . . . and how ruthlessly I’ve put them into action by only fifteen.

  Sometimes my mind
unwillingly drifts back to that cold, dark place I’d fallen into years ago—the year my innocence was stripped from me. Papa's Consigliere, Marco had a nephew called Paulo. He was cute, funny and intense . . . all those things a fifteen year old girl wants but doesn’t know what to do with.

  His darkness was compelling and I soon found myself obsessed with him. I sometimes wish I could go back and just . . . shake myself. I’d tell myself to run far away and never ever look back. He’d sneak into my room at night sometimes while the men smoked cigars with a few of Papa’s enforcers. We’d flirt and play and I soaked up his attention like the little girl I was.

  Until the day he took things too far.

  Paulo stumbled into my room one night, smelling of whiskey.

  He was eighteen years old and had just been initiated. In the Mafia, to be initiated meant taking your first life. This usually happens when a boy becomes a man at eighteen and they send you out to handle your first assignment as a ‘Made Man.’ Paulo had done it, but it was like a switch had flipped in him that night.

  I can still clearly remember the hollow look in Paulo’s eyes as he’d stumbled into my bed. He’d landed on top of me while I slept. I woke with a giggle, but that was before I realized that something was very wrong. His hands had groped at me, clawing painfully at my skin and sneaking his fingers beneath my silk nightdress. I remember laughing nervously at first, thinking he was playing a game.

  Paulo raped me that night.

  He stole my virginity with blood, fear and tears. He’d turned me over on my stomach and took me roughly from behind as he covered my mouth with his hand. I remember the disgusting grunting noises he’d made in my ear as I cried into the pillow. It hurt so bad that it felt like my body was being ripped in two and set on fire.

  When my cries became too loud, he'd punch me with a closed fist right on my ear. Over and over he’d hit me—punishing me for fighting back.