Spirited_A Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance

by C. M. Stunich

  “Completely,” he said, and when he took my lips again, I swear I felt my soul binding itself to him.

  Later that night … I'd find out that really, it was the other way around.

  There was absolutely no missing her, standing across the room in a gown of glimmering gold to match her eyes. With that copper skin, the snowy white of her hair, and a body full of generous curves, I was spellbound.

  “That's the girl you have a crush on?” my brother, Yared, asked as he stood there gawping stupidly, his jaw on the floor. “Are you insane? She's the prince's consort; everyone knows it.”

  “Everyone is a fucking idiot then,” I said as I sipped a glass of der Bösewicht, a type of alcohol brewed by demons. It was spicy as hell and liable to put a man flat on his ass in a matter of sips. Pretty sure I was the only at the All Haunts' Eve ball that was drinking it. “They don't know shit,” I continued as I watched the girl with the big ebony wings spin in a tight circle, dancing with her Amerin handler. “A woman like that isn't satisfied with the title of consort. And the queen will never let the prince marry her. If he were a woman, he could probably marry whoever he wanted. But he's a son and sons have to marry for political gain in Amerin.”

  Nodding my head in the direction of the blonde half-angel currently dancing with the prince, I struggled to put a face to a name.

  “Felixa of Haversey,” I continued as my brother rolled his blue-gray eyes. He loved gossip, but he was not a fan of politics. Too bad. “She's the most likely candidate for the throne. Her, or some foreign match that the queen is scheming.” Taking another sip of my drink, I finished it off and set it on a passing servant's tray.

  My eyes were locked on that girl—Brynn of Haversey—and I felt my cock stirring inside my breeches. Gods, she's beautiful. Having her on my back for the entire ride from Kohlmar to New Akyumen was torturous. The second I laid eyes on her, I knew.

  I wanted her as my mate.

  My people weren't like the Amerins—we each took one mate. And I wanted this woman to be mine.

  “I'm going to ask her to dance,” I said, and heard Yared mumble something under his breath. Flexing my wings, I strode across the floor, noticing that Brynn's mouth was pinched with jealousy, her long white hair loose and curled in gentle waves that hung down and brushed against the brilliant orange-red wood of the castle's ballroom floor. Her eyes were flicking over to Prince Airmienan and Felixa, crinkling at the edges.

  I didn't miss the fact that the prince's eyes kept sliding over to her, too.

  No matter.

  Once I saw something I wanted, I didn't let go until it was mine. And the most basic, primal parts of me stirred to life as soon as I saw this girl. Even though Amerins were famous for their overuse of fragrances, lotions, and hair oils, her natural smell was intoxicating, like amber and sunshine, cut through with the juicy sweetness of peaches.

  Fuck.

  I felt so … male when I looked at the generous feminine swells of her curves, and the urge to breed was unmistakably powerful.

  Still, I was a gentleman, not an animal and I was damn sure going to act like one.

  “May I cut in?” I asked, stepping up close to the two women. While Brynn was wearing a gown of heavy gold silk (Amerins and their silk, good Gods) with a thigh slit that went all the way to her hip, her handler was dressed in sapphire and a raven mask, her grin bright beneath it.

  “Absolutely,” she said with a sweeping bow, stepping back and allowing me to take her place. Brynn didn't hesitate as she put a small bronze hand on my shoulder and let me place a huge one on her round hip. Fuck, Reisender help me. As soon as I touched her, we both shivered and I knew she could feel it, that sharp, unexpected sting of attraction.

  “You,” Brynn said, reaching up to her white hair and pulling down her mask. It was a caricature of a ghost, its face painted with that distinctive white-blue shimmer, dark purple circles around its eyes. It was a beautiful piece—probably a gift from the prince with that price tag—but all I really wanted was to see this girl's alluring face.

  “Me,” I said, twirling her across the dance floor in time to the haunting purr of a cello, its eerie sound the perfect companion to the flickering candles and the silver shimmer of spook dust, a mineral so rare that it was only used—liberally used—once a year. It was sifted from the heavy wooden rafters above our heads, turning the top of Brynn's white hair a glimmering silver. The dust was mined and then ground into a fine powder that could quite literally touch the spirit.

  It stuck to the ghosts in the room, all the wandering spirits that had shown up for tonight's party. Because on All Haunts' Eve, not only did the bindings that kept ghosts tethered to one place break when the moon was at its peak, it let them wander freely until the sun came up.

  I just hope this holiday isn't a nightmare disguised as a blessing, I thought as I took Brynn across the dance floor and noticed the prince watching us carefully, sipping spiced cider and keeping his green eyes firmly on the pair of us.

  Smiling slightly, I tilted my head in his direction.

  He wasn't my competition. No, men were foolish in thinking they needed to compete with each other for a woman's heart. The only person who could make those sorts of decisions was the woman herself.

  “Not to sound rude or anything but … I'm surprised to see you here?” Brynn said, her voice this husky purr that made me grit my teeth. Good thing I'd decided to take up the ridiculous Amerin tradition of wearing a jeweled codpiece to the All Haunts' Eve ball—my cock was rock-solid and felt like it was growing thicker by the second. With this stupid bejeweled black cup over my dick, I didn't have to worry about stabbing Brynn.

  My mouth quirked with a slight smirk.

  “You didn't think a griffin would be invited to the palace?” I rumbled and Brynn ran her tongue across her lower lip, drawing my attention to the copperberry lipstick she was wearing. Gods, she had a pretty enough mouth as it was. And to paint it up all red like that? I could hardly think straight.

  “Well …” she hedged as I dipped her and then held the position for several seconds longer than was proprietorial. Her long white hair pooled on the wood floors, already covered with spook dust. The shimmering feet of a spirit passed near us as I lifted Brynn up and found a man with the large eyes of an Amerin and an irritated smirk watching. “Elijah of Haversey,” Brynn said as he swirled past and his mouth tightened.

  Elijah. Right away, I made the connection. The prince's cousin, the one that was killed last year. As the master of the Travelers' Guild, I had to keep up on politics. As frustrating and useless as I found them, they were necessary if my guild wanted to keep their head above water and turn a profit at the same time.

  “Are you racist then, Brynn of Haversey?” I asked, fixing a necklace that'd gotten twisted around. The pendant was hanging down her back instead of over her admittedly impressive cleavage. Shit. As soon as the jewelry fell into place, I realized what I was looking at.

  The mark of Hellim.

  “Brynn of Haversey and … Hellim,” I whispered and the girl's nostrils flared.

  “I'm not racist,” she said which made me smile. I doubted a half-angel, half-Nomaid woman living in Amerin would be, but it still amused me to ask. I shifted my wings and let the long muscular length of my tail twitch in bemusement. “But since your people attacked Amerin not quite fifteen years ago, we're all a little wary.”

  “You didn't seem so wary when you were straddling my back,” I whispered, leaning in close. The Amerin people had a right to be angry—what my king had done was despicable, attacking outlying villages and slaughtering innocents. But not every member of his kingdom agreed with the things he'd done.

  “You're a high-ranking member of the Travelers' Guild?” Brynn asked, glancing down at my hand as it rested on her hip, studying the tattoos with golden Nomaid eyes that stole my breath away. I'd seen this girl a handful of times before, coming and going from New Akyumen, but after the first time I saw her … I had such a violent r
eaction to her smell, her curves, that I kept myself hidden in the shadows.

  The one and only time I'd ever approached and allowed her to hire me was last week.

  I couldn't help myself.

  And I was tired of just watching.

  Now, I was actively going to pursue.

  “You could say that,” I replied cryptically as Brynn furrowed her brow and reached down, trying and failing to peel my fingers off her hip. My response was simply to tighten my hold, drawing a surprised squeak from her throat and a small growl from her lips.

  “Let me see your damn hand!” she said and then cringed as a black feather plucked itself from her wing and tumbled through the air, finding itself covered with spook dust before it settled to the floor and was promptly kicked about by dancing feet.

  You're supposed to be courting this girl, Vex, I told myself, not trying to piss her off.

  Releasing the thickness of Brynn's hip, I held out my hand and let her read the symbols inked into my flesh. Beneath her spook's mask, her eyes widened.

  “Oh,” she said and I felt a grin spread across my face.

  “Oh is right,” I told her, loving the way her hair sparkled in the candlelight. All around the room, fresh fruits and vegetables had been carved to mimic the faces of spirits, candles sputtering inside their hollowed insides. My favorites were the ice pumpkins, large and round and pale blue, the squashes were harvested right after snowmelt started to trickle from the mountains. And as they heated up, they melted like wax, their tiny heat activated flowers sprouting from the warmth of the candles' flames. Besides, their pink flesh was delicious when ground up and shaken with spices.

  “You're the master of the Travelers' Guild,” she said, putting my hand back on her hip. A flare of triumph shot through me as we started to move again, a pipe organ joining in the musical mix. There were a lot of spirits in here tonight; I just hoped they were all dead Amerins and not those … things that had been infesting the city for the last few months.

  Gods above and below.

  “In the flesh,” I replied as I tried to think of a clever way to ask Brynn out to tour New Akyumen. It was tradition on All Haunts' Eve that as soon as the clock struck midnight, the ball ended and the revelers went out, moving from house to house to collect treats. Most young adults made it about a dozen doors down the line before they flocked to the dance houses in droves and spent the rest of the night grinding on one another.

  But at age twenty-eight, I knew what I wanted.

  And what I wanted was Brynn.

  If she was going to be grinding on anyone tonight, it was going to be on me. And maybe the prince, too, but like I said, I wasn't worried about him. The queen would never allow him to marry so far down in status, not even with the Double Blessing I'd somehow missed before. It would elevate Brynn certainly, but while a man could legally have a harem of spouses, it was frowned upon. The people of Amerin would riot if the prince took the throne and started collecting wives.

  He had to pick a strong queen and then let her choose a harem. It was sexist, but old traditions die hard.

  “You're so …” she started, waving her hand around as she searched for the right word to say and inadvertently smacked me in the side of the face. I grinned as Brynn mumbled an insincere sounding apology, but it didn't matter. I found her clumsiness charming. She was so short, and yet her wings were almost the size of my own. Full-sized angel wings on a Nomaid half-breed. I'd never seen the combination before and I loved it. “Young.”

  “Yes, well,” I started, trying to figure out how to explain my quick rise through the Travelers' Guild ranks. It didn't hurt that I'd been blessed by the god of wanderers, nomads, and travelers—Reisender. It wasn't nearly as prestigious as a blessing from either Haversey or Hellim, let alone both, but it was also extremely rare. “Just lucky, I guess. Now, have you changed your mind about that drink?”

  Brynn gaped at me as that ghost boy—Elijah—appeared at her side and offered his shimmering silver hand, draped in spook dust and visible even to the eyes of talkers, Amerin slang for those who had no magic, non-whisperers.

  “Would it be possible for me to have the next dance?” he asked, giving me a quick once-over and a quirk of lips, like he knew what I was up to and didn't much care for it. Well, fuck him. Brynn was going to be my mate and unlike the spirit standing in front of me, I had a real cock, a real heart, and arms to wrap her up in. It wouldn't even be a fair fight.

  “On All Haunts' Eve, a ghost's hand is always accepted,” Brynn told him, nodding to me and moving away to dance with Elijah of Haversey. I watched them go as my brother sidled back up to me, adjusting his codpiece and groaning. Almost all the men were wearing them, codpieces as well as cloaks. It was the traditional attire for the night. Meanwhile, the women wore gowns and masks. Back home, All Haunts' Eve was an autumn festival with decorations made of brightly colored leaves and barrels of apples. Here, it was a late winter/early spring festival, and the clothing, décor, and masks showed it.

  “Looks like she has more than just the prince in her harem,” Yared joked as I slid my eyes in his direction, shifted my wings, and gave him the coldest stare I could manage. The thick, tawny furred length of my tail twitched in irritation. “She has a ghost, too.”

  “I'm not worried,” I told him as I turned away, Brynn's beautiful gold silk dress flowing across the floor like sunshine. “Not even a little.”

  The ghost mask on my face made me sweat like crazy, causing the black kohl around my gold eyes to run like black tears down my cheeks. Pushing it up into my hair, I stared into Elijah's eyes as we danced and tried to get a read on his emotions.

  I was pretty sure he was pissed.

  “You're not upset about me flubbing Air, are you?” I asked and he raised a dark brow. To everyone else in the room, Elijah of Haversey was just the faintest outline of a man, the spook dust giving him this scintillating edge that actually made him look less real to me.

  “Flubbing,” he said with an infuriating chuckle, his hand touching the spot where Vexer's giant paw had just rested. The man's hand was the size of my entire head. He was huge. And frankly, he smelled good and had a smile that made my heart flip-flop. I'd only ever seen him two times in my entire life and yet, my nipples perked when I flicked my eyes in his direction. We had chemistry, sure. Definite chemistry.

  But I had too many other things to think about at the moment. I was still drunk with the happiness of having slept with Air, excited at the promise in his eyes, and wondering for the first time in my life if … if a relationship really was possible between us.

  “Have you ever wondered why fuck is a bad word to Haversey? I mean fucking someone has a positive connotation and yet she still doesn't like it. And then there's the word jerk.” Elijah raised his brows at me. “Jerk can have very positive connotations, and she doesn't like that either.” He mimed the up and down motion of a hand jerking a cock, and I punched him right in his ghostly nipple. If a spirit allowed itself, it could indeed feel pain or pleasure. From the way Eli winced, I knew he was wired for it.

  “I have no idea,” I sniffed, wanting to change the subject back to me and Air, back to … almost screwing a ghost when I always swore I never would. “Maybe more people use the duck-with-an-F word and the j-word in a negative manner? Maybe she can sense the balance of positive to negative?”

  “Murder has a negative connotation and she lets spirit whisperers say that,” Eli continued, his ice-blue eyes crinkling mischievously at the edges. I punched his nipple again, discovered that it was hard, and realized that I actually kind of liked touching it.

  “The goddess is fickle and arbitrary, like all deities. Does it really matter? I don't want to have a philosophical discussion on a holiday.” Eli smirked, spinning past a row of carved yellow squashes with gaping maws. The candlelight played with the aristocratic features of his face and made my throat feel tight. “Now, you disappeared after … Air came into the room and you didn't show yourself once until we act
ually got into the ballroom. Are you jealous?”

  “Jealous?” he asked, that lazy slouchy attitude of his making it frustrating to watch the play of emotions on his face. “No, I'm not jealous. I'm pissed off that we had something going on and then you dropped me in a hot second. Obviously the crown prince is an ideal compeer,” he continued, using the term men gave their wife's other husbands. That was presumptuous as flub of him though because where in Haversey's Heaven did he get the idea that he was going to be a husband of mine at all?! Not only had we just met, but he was a flubbing ghost for Hellim's sake! “But you didn't have to kick me out like I didn't mean shit.”

  Elijah's smirking half-smile faded and he let those beautiful lips of his turn down in a grossly exaggerated frown.

  “We just met!” I said, but he shrugged his shoulders anyway. “Not to mention the fact that you are dead, Elijah. You are a ghost and you should move on.”

  “I won't be a ghost forever,” he growled back at me, and we stopped dancing, so suddenly that Jasinda and Matz bumped into us. If I hadn't been so upset with Eli, I might've been excited to see my handler dancing with the handsome scribe. Maybe she was finally into taking a lover? Jasinda hardly ever let herself have any fun—and that was mostly my fault. As far as spirit whisperers went, I was a handful and then some. “You are going to make sure of that,” he whispered, using phrasing that would easily be misconstrued, so as not to give away our secret. Good for him. But his confidence in me was, quite frankly, kind of annoying.

  “Ghosts aren't meant to come back to life,” I hissed, so quietly that I wasn't even sure he could hear me in the mix of music and laughter and clinking glasses. “New babies are born every day and they need souls, and there are no souls to give them if the old ones just hang around and haunt shit!” Two feathers flew off of my wings which was totally unfair because I'd only cursed once! Haversey was feeling feisty tonight. “Spirits are supposed to move on, Elijah.”