Hers From The Start: A Collection of First In Series Reverse Harem

by Laura Greenwood

  Adahm

  “So…” I crumbled the side of my pants into my fist, to control my trembling, my confusion and rage. I plastered the most neutral expression I could muster, leaning casually against my bed. My art journal was in my lap, a piece of charcoal in my other hand. The note Maudey had written me nearly burned a hole through my pocket. “You talk to Maudey?” I tried to keep the eagerness from my voice, and seem nonchalant.

  Aidan chuckled, and I took it as a bad sign. The note in my pocket suddenly felt heavier. “Not much,” he said casually. And that was that. He reached into the chest between beds for his ukelele and brought it up to his chest to begin strumming it.

  We had a bit of freetime between lessons and training, and whenever we did, we spent it in our rooms, taking pleasure in the little things we could. Unfortunately, the pleasure couldn’t find its way into my troubled mind.

  “No secrets, remember?” I reminded him frankly. It was a rule between the three of us.

  Aidan laughed lightly. “I just went to visit her in the kitchens, is all.”

  In the kitchens? What could they have possibly done in the kitchens with everyone watching? I looked over at Alastair, who paid no mind to us, as he was engrossed in a leather bound book.

  In the Broken World, books were a little rare, and thus, they were treasured. And Alastair treasured them like diamonds, and breathed them in like oxygen.

  Had he been the one she meant in the note? Had she confused me with one of them? What had the both of them told her? What was it they’d made her think about? Gods, the suspense, the not knowing was infuriating.

  I knew the only way to find out the truth, was to wait for night to fall and to go to her.

  And night couldn’t seem to come soon enough.

  Chapter Ten

  Maude

  I dressed with great care that night, discarding my simple cotton nightdress for something else. If I wanted my facade to work, I would have to look the part. So, I slipped on the sheerest of material I owned—and I did not own much. It was white, near lacey, and it shimmered in the candlelight when I moved.

  I’d never worn anything so extravagant, but this had been a gift from the Queen. “For being so good and kind,” she’d said. Well, it seemed fitting for it to be the downfall of her children. It wasn’t a good or kind thing to do, but it would be an enormous favor to everyone in the castle if they stopped with their nonsense.

  Still...I tried not to feel uncomfortable with the attire. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I had promptly blushed at my reflection. Nothing was left to the imagination. Every big curve was on display, nipples dark behind the material. A white sheer shawl was draped over my blonde locks, framing the roundness of my face. I tried to ignore the little fact that I looked like a bride on her wedding night.

  Letting out a shaking breath, I turned from my reflection just as a soft, almost tentative knock sounded at the door. I smiled and went to crack it open, ever so slightly. Adahm—I was positive it was Adahm, for he had tracings of color and ink beneath his fingernails—stood awkwardly at the door.

  He looked at me, and I could see his cheeks flushing in the dark. Smiling, I took a step back and let the door swing open slowly, to illuminate me in the candle light.

  The urge to cover my body up had been there, followed by a nervousness I’d never felt before. That feeling dissipated when I saw the flare in Adahm’s eyes. Appreciation as his eyes grazed leisurely over every inch of my body, as if he was giving his brain the time to memorize every dip of my curves.

  “Hi,” I whispered, and convinced myself that I was only breathless because I was nervous at what was to come, and not because of the look in his eyes. As if he meant to eat me alive, and savor every inch.

  He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Hi.”

  This was the part I had planned all day. Strike up a conversation, spin in a web of lies. Get him to doubt the authenticity of his brothers’ words. Build up mistrust between them. Let their facade crumble to dust.

  But none of my carefully crafted words came out.

  We just stood that way, taking each other in.

  He wore the same outfit he had been earlier. Black pants that hugged every muscle tightly, and a white shirt, stained discreetly with ink at the hem. I wondered at that, wondered why he always seemed to have colors beneath his fingernails. Almost as if he were an artist. His hair was ruffled, like if he’d run a hand through it time and time again.

  I smiled, and his breath hitched. “Thanks for coming, Adahm,” I whispered.

  His hands at his sides tightened into fists. I wondered if he was holding himself back from reaching out to me. Or maybe from throttling me? I couldn’t be sure, or too careful. He let out a breath and then smiled in that arrogant way he had when he’d handed me the pearls that had changed everything. Yes. This was the real Adahm. “How did you know who to give the note to?” he asked casually. “How do you even know who I am?”

  I’d expected this question, so my next smile, having practiced it, was sultry. “What makes you think I wouldn’t recognize the mouth I’d kissed?” I chuckled and took a step back, suggestively, towards the bed. “I’d recognize your lips anywhere.”

  Like I suspected he would, Adahm tensed. I could only imagine what was running through his mind at this moment. He was thinking about a kiss that never happened, wondering which brother could have done it, which one could have betrayed his trust.

  But he didn’t explode. He didn’t demand answers. He just fell into practiced nonchalance and arrogance. “Really…” He took a step forward, and I felt the pulse jump at my throat. “Then you’d be the only woman in the world who has been able to tell us all apart.”

  I sat on the bed and slowly crossed one leg over the other. His eyes followed the movement with obvious hunger. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, and I tried to ignore the zing that action sent through me. “Maybe so,” I replied. It was true. I was probably the only one who had been able to do it. But I wouldn’t give up my secrets just yet.

  He prowled forward slowly, with intent, and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. I swallowed. “Have you thought about the kiss?” He stopped just at the edge of the mattress, inked fingers tracing lightly over the coverlets.

  My head spun at the slightest of his actions. Stupid. Stupid. I fought hard to focus, to swallow past the lump that was suddenly forming at the back of my throat. What was happening to me? My toes curled. No, I couldn’t feel attracted to him. Okay, maybe I was. He was a prince, and an attractive one besides. His presence was dominant, almost overpowering in the small space of my room. It was making me dizzy. It was the nerves. It was the fear of the unexpected.

  “Every minute since it happened…” I said slowly. There had been no kiss to think about. But there had been revenge, and that had fueled me just fine.

  He edged closer to the bed, and I found myself edging back until my head came in contact with the headboard. I froze, brought my knees up to my chest. My heart pounded against my ribcage, trying to get free from its confines. He was close, so close to me now. He sat at the edge of the bed. I could feel his heat on my toes, smell the scent of pine and ink on him.

  “Is that why you called me here, Maudey?” he asked, dropping his voice dangerously low. “Do you want to kiss me again?”

  Okay, that was a question I hadn’t predicted. I was just meant to lie to him, to trick him into thinking he was betrayed. Why was he still looking at me like he wanted to devour me more than anything?

  “I recall you kissing me…” I replied nervously.

  He smiled and reached his hand out, palm resting on my knee. I dropped them, fingers digging into the covers. He inched closer. “I could do it again, you know,” he whispered. A promise. He inched closer until our hips touched, and he stopped there. “I could make you forget that other kiss altogether,” he whispered. A threat.

  And that was all the warning I got before Adahm bent close and took my mouth in his
.

  No. Wait. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. His tongue pushed past my closed lips to delve in. He took me. He devoured and didn’t hold back. I brought my hands up to his chest. To push him away? I was supposed to. This hadn’t been part of the plan… But my fingers curled into his shirt instead. To pull him closer?

  I put the slightest bit of pressure against his chest. I shouldn’t be doing this. We shouldn’t be doing this… But then his arm snaked around my waist and he pulled me into his lap, and all my sense flew away as I parted my legs to straddle him.

  Gods, why did this feel so good? His mouth was hot and demanding, taking and giving in the same movement. I gasped, digging my nails deeper in as his hands pulled off my shawl. I felt suddenly naked without it.

  He broke apart to look at me, bright blue eyes flaring like the flickering of a candle flame. He didn’t look betrayed. In fact, he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world, and he meant to have every inch of me.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered. Wisps of my hair fell across my flushed cheeks. “Forget the other kiss,” he demanded. “And only think of me.”

  And then he was kissing me again. I let him take me, I let him send me to soaring heights I’d never been to before. I shouldn’t have. This was wrong, gods, it was so wrong but something about it felt entirely too right, to be held, to be suddenly flipped so I was beneath him.

  His heavy weight pressed me against the mattress and pillows. I felt his every inch. I felt him, his manhood hard against my center. The scraping of his pants sent a thrill through my body.

  I suddenly craved more.

  His hands slid down my sides, burning so hot through my nightgown. His lips were hot, kissing me hard enough to bruise. I couldn’t do anything but kiss him back, but cling to his shirt with desperation as he grinded his hips against my own.

  I broke away from his mouth to gasp.

  We stopped, frozen as we stared at each other. Brown eyes on blue ones for a moment. A smile, not arrogant, but seductive, curled his lips. “Remember me, Maudey. And remember this kiss. Forever.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Adahm

  Gods.

  It took all the willpower I had to pull away from her. I hadn’t meant for this to happen. I hadn’t meant to lose myself in her. And even though my dick was aching to take her, to claim her, I could not do it. Not when she thought I was someone else.

  Okay, she knew my name. She knew it was really Adahm before her. But she didn’t know my soul, and knowing my soul was more important to me than her knowing a face, some meaningless syllables.

  I shouldn’t have even kissed her. But I’d been so angry. So angry knowing that one of my brothers had kissed her first. And when she’d told me, all I could think about was wiping the memory of their lips from her mind with my own. Of making her want me, instead of one of them. Of her remembering my lips, my hands, and my body hot on hers. Of me, making her feel desired. And when I left her alone, it would be me she thought about in her sexual frustration.

  I smiled, even if my dick was screaming at me to finish what I started, and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. Gods, but she was beautiful with her hair down, the long wavy strands sprawled against her pillow made her seem a bit angelic.

  And I knew then that I would paint her image, and she would stay with me forever.

  “Goodnight, Maudey,” I whispered as I pulled away. “And sweet dreams.”

  I had to leave the room before she could say another word. Chances were that if she did, I’d fall to my knees before her and never want to leave. That I’d want to take her, and confess every little thing to her.

  I couldn’t.

  It’d be a betrayal to my siblings. And even though one of them had betrayed me by kissing her in the first place, telling her the truth seemed the biggest sin of all.

  Chapter Twelve

  Maude

  I tossed and turned that night, unable to banish the image—the feeling—of his hands on my body, of his lips on my own, of his tongue in my mouth. When I finally did sleep, I dreamt of him. Of the real Adahm, with his fingers covered in the remnants of charcoal and paint, tracing lines across my bare skin.

  Remember this kiss…

  Boy would I remember it. I would forever remember the texture and taste of a first kiss I was never meant to receive, but a kiss I so desired to drown in once more. Everything about it had been wrong. I’d set out to destroy their little facade, and I’d fallen deep into his seductions. Like a cruel joke, my plan had been turned back on me. Had he even cared about the lie I’d spun up? Would he even believe it? I had to have faith that he would. I had to have faith that he would spend his night, tossing and turning, just like I had, wondering if one of his brothers had really had a taste of me already.

  I had smiled at the thought as I began plotting anew. The music was shifting, and I could make them dance in my favor, if I spun the tune correctly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alastair

  Unlike my brothers, I didn’t enjoy the art of swords. I learned it, yes, out of obligation, like any other prince would be required to learn how to fight and how to strategize battles. With swords in our hands, we became unstoppable. We danced to the rhythm of battle and blood, and I had never enjoyed that tune.

  Whenever I could, I’d find myself in the library. Though the room in the castle was grand, the books were few. There was a time when hybrid creatures had been released out into the world. Creatures of myth and legend, that, were it not for my father’s scars, no one would have believed in. It had been so long since they’d roamed the world. When they’d been in abundance, they had destroyed everything in their path, leaving us this broken world to call our home.

  The shelves were filled with the books my ancestors had managed to salvage, along with collections my grandfather had found before I was born. Books were very valuable to the royals, but they treated them like decorations. Like ornaments in a museum of history.

  To me, they were much more than that.

  They were worlds of escape, a place to get lost in when the world around you was threatening suffocation. I breathed in leather and musk, running my hands across delicate spines. Some of the titles were hanging on by mere threads, the pages frayed, burned, or worn. Those were the ones I liked the most.

  I’d read most of the books in the library twice over, and still they never bored me. There were times when I longed for more, more words to breathe in, more worlds to explore. I knew that if I could not find more to read, then I’d write my own.

  I stopped on a book and pulled it from the shelf. It was bound in black leather, heavy in my palms. I opened it to the first page, inhaling the scent of the paper. There was something magical about opening a book for the first time...

  The door to the library opened with a loud clang, and I slammed the book closed, hiding it at my back on instinct. When I looked up, the smile that tugged at the corners of my lips when I saw Maudey enter was almost instinctive. Our castle, though large, didn’t have many servants, and it always brought an inexplicable happiness when I saw her going about her chores.

  She carried a bucket in her hands and stopped short when she saw me. “Your Majesty,” she dipped into a quick curtsey. “Forgive me. I can come back later…”

  I smiled and she froze, observing me closely. “By all means, continue.” I made a gesture with my hand and she gave a nod and put the bucket on the ground. I observed her movements. Quick, and expert, she did everything with determination.

  I pulled the book out from hiding and held it in my hands once again. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself. My mind kept flashing back to her, by the candlelight in her bedroom, hair unbound and on her shoulders… I had pretended to be Adahm then, if only to get her to accept an apology. I had no such obligation to do so now. And I was tired of the facade. I wanted her to know me for me.

  “Do you like to read?” I asked her almost tentatively.

  She snap
ped her attention up to me, eyebrows furrowing. “Excuse me?”

  I took a breath, gestured to the book in my hands. “Do you like to read?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have much time for reading, what with all my chores and all, Prince…” she gave a pause, looked me over, eyes stopping, in the slightest of gestures, on my fingers grasping the book. She smiled innocently. “Aidan?”

  I wanted to throw the book at the wall. I clutched it closely to me. It appeared as though even she couldn’t tell us apart. “I’m Alastair,” I confessed, though I shouldn’t have.

  Her smile grew wider. “Of course,” she chuckled. “How silly of me.” She bent back down to her back and got on her knees, reaching into the bucket for a wet rag that she began scrubbing along the floors.

  I stood there awkwardly as she got to work. I didn’t like the position she was in. It looked rather uncomfortable. I turned, placed the book back onto the shelf, and then walked over to where she was working, bending to her level.

  “Shouldn’t this be someone else’s job?” I asked worriedly.

  She stopped scrubbing and looked up at me with raised brows. “We’re a bit understaffed at the moment, as the servant who usually does this finds herself on bedrest.” Her voice was dismissive, stern, and I suddenly felt like a school boy in my mum’s lecture hall.

  “So your duties, beyond being my mother’s maid, extend to housecleaning as well?”

  Her face didn’t flush. In fact, she just tilted her chin higher, in a prideful gesture that indicated she was not ashamed of what she was or what she did. I’d meant no offense, but the sudden changing of her features was rather fierce, and beautiful.

  “Yes. As well as cook, wash, or take out the garbage, if need be.”

  A soft smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Well, would you like me to help you?” The offer came so naturally, and I wanted to help her, like I’d wanted to help her sew the pearls onto the dress. It was more than just a chore, but it felt like something the both of us could...bond over.