Only Perfect Omegas: A Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance Series (Rebel Werewolves Book 1)

by Rosemary A Johns

  Hey, maybe in the Realm of the royal pricks that was how they did things, but there was no way that Mischief was suffering in silence or dying for us because we were all leaders in our own way.

  We’d face this together.

  I rubbed my thumb over the pocket of my jeans, and Okami’s nose poked out, followed by his fluffy ears. He sniffed mournfully. Was he crying for Mischief too? I stroked his head, this time to comfort him as much as to comfort myself.

  When Okami flew out with his fur cast blood-red by the light, he tapped the motto on the wall with his nose:

  Charm the wolves. Control the crimson tide.

  Then he howled, before darting back to my pocket and nestling down.

  I’d only put my foot on the first step of the staircase, before Okami nipped me impatiently. I yipped through my sobs, then glanced up at the motto again.

  Huh, my shadows did look like a crimson tide. But wasn’t the crimson meant to be the deaths caused by the wolves? The blood that they poured like oceans by their savagery?

  I’d promised that I’d stop running and hiding and holy hell, that would start right now.

  I backed up a step onto the landing, then wiped my arm across my eyes to still my tears. I took a steadying breath.

  “Zetta, get your spook ass out here,” I hollered at the ceiling. “Who’s stealing the power from Mischief’s Gateways? He’s fading away.”

  I stumbled back, clutching my hands over my ears, as Justin Timberlake’s “Cry Me a River” burst in mocking R&B from the walls.

  I gritted my teeth. “That’s cold, bitch.”

  Suddenly, Zetta’s arms encircled me from behind, even though she couldn’t touch me, and her chin rested just above my shoulder. I fought not to jerk away.

  Zetta snickered. “Not nearly as cold as this.”

  The floor of the landing melted, and I screamed as I was dragged down into the dark. The music shut off, and I tumbled onto my ass outside the one room that had haunted my nightmares and waking dreams, which I’d never intended to set foot in: the ballroom where my parents had been massacred.

  Zetta had told me that she was made up of the memories and essence of the Wolf Charmers line. Was my legacy truly this cruel?

  I scrambled backwards, whimpering, whilst my crimson cradled me. I huddled in my mom’s cape despite the heat, pulling it over my head like I could hide in its velvety softness and honeysuckle scent away from the memory of the screams, growls, and everything turning to red, red, red…

  I shook like I’d been reduced to that little girl again who’d fled from the werewolf attack, rather than stood and fought, only for a white wolf to drag me to safety. I realized now that wolves might’ve killed my family, but one shifter had risked themselves to make sure that I didn’t die.

  But why had they saved me?

  Suddenly, the romantic but tragic strains of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake floated from the ballroom. I shivered because I recognized the notes of the piano, which had played in the same beautiful way on the night of the massacre.

  I couldn’t relive this again…

  I screwed closed my eyes like I was safe in the dark, dragging my mom’s cape even tighter around me, but I couldn’t block out the powerful song of the piano.

  Wasn’t this what Zetta wanted? To scare me away? If she couldn’t make me run, then she’d make me hide from my biggest fear.

  Slowly, I opened my eyes, as I took a deep breath and lowered my cape. Then I dragged myself to my feet, pressing myself to the wall.

  Come on, Crimson, you can do this…

  Okami nudged his head out of my pocket, nuzzling his chin against my hip in solidarity.

  I stared at the grand oak doors through into the ballroom. I owed the archduke who was dying upstairs to no longer be frightened of pushing through new doors. I wrenched my shadows back inside, before crashing open the doors and bursting through into the ballroom. Then I gasped and stood motionless, caught in the magic in front of me.

  The morning light streamed through the high arch windows, making the ruby floor of the ballroom glow like it was on fire. The crystal chandelier blazed like tiny suns. I’d forgotten how dazzling it was, although it wasn’t as dazzling as my two Charms who were so caught up in each other that they didn’t even notice my action hero entrance.

  Emperor sat at the Steinway grand piano in only his shirtsleeves like a butterfly finally emerged from its golden cocoon, whilst his elegant fingers wove over the keys and cast a musical spell that made me shiver. He was lost in the music in a way that softened his features, until he looked young and blissful, even though there was an intense concentration that I recognized from the way I lost myself in my painting. Yet Emperor wasn’t playing for himself, rather for Amadeus.

  My breath caught, and I could feel the hair on my nape rising. I stepped forwards like I’d been bewitched. If I’d thought that Amadeus had been an angelic beauty wrapped up in a body of pure sin when he’d first danced for me, now he shone with such charisma that I craved to touch, taste, and devour him…to make him mine forever.

  He only wore his shimmering satin tights, which drew the eye to all the right places, and sweat slipped down his alabaster chest as he spun, in stark contrast to the blackness of his hair. His bare feet were pale against the ruby of the ballroom’s floor.

  I gasped, as suddenly he shifted but not into wolf form. Instead, his hips became curvier, just like his tits. Holy hell, in female form he was even more gorgeous.

  I itched even more to touch now…

  Amadeus hadn’t even lost a step in his dancing like the shift had been involuntary and he didn’t even know that it’d occurred. Just as unexpectedly, he transformed back into a guy.

  I watched, mesmerized by his magical dance, which unlike before wasn’t for me but only for himself. In every leap and pirouette, despite its gracefulness, he bared his Soul with all its wounded hurt, simmering rage, and love.

  I’d never watched such a powerful performance of the ballet before or one where the music and the dance were so united. I glanced at Emperor. I’d been so terrified of this room, but my two Charms had reclaimed it.

  I tried to smother my sob, but it was too late. Emperor lifted his gaze to mine, although his fingers didn’t falter over the keys. He raised his eyebrow, questioningly.

  I looked away.

  Amadeus spun towards me. His crimson eyes were dark, and his hair stuck to his forehead. He held out his hand to draw me into the dance. When I reached for his hand, however, he drew it back as if he was afraid of my touch or of touching me with the bare skin of his palm, and I paced after him onto the dance floor, trying not to think of the last time that I was here, instead only of the piano, the sexy incubus pressing his body against mine, and the scar raised on his shoulder…

  Hold up, the scar…?

  My brows furrowed, as I traced the silvery white line with my thumb. Amadeus flinched. I thought that werewolves healed from everything apart from silver?

  What had caused him to scar like this?

  I followed the line all the way down his shoulder blade. My frown deepened. If we were in medieval times, I’d have guessed he’d been severely whipped, but then hadn’t Ivy said that she’d punished Aquilo like that?

  Would the wolves truly whip their own prince?

  Amadeus’ shoulders hunched, and for the first time, he tripped over his feet, stumbling into me. He ducked his head, refusing to meet my gaze. When I licked across the chocolate sweetness of his lips, he looked up at me in surprise.

  “You’re freaking gorgeous.” I nipped at his lower lip, and he smiled against my mouth. “Just as you are. Will you let me touch you…?”

  By the way that Amadeus flushed, I knew that he understood I meant on his scar because I had to know what his back looked like. Was that one silvery line the only damage?

  “This sexy body is yours, remember? Branded and everything, see. So, touch me, if it pleases you.” He tried for nonchalant, but his fists were clenched tight
.

  I clasped his hands between mine, massaging their backs, until his fingers relaxed. “That’s how a possessive dick works. Am I a possessive dick?”

  Amadeus giggled, although the way that he thrust his dick towards me like he was merely dancing again was all naughty cherub. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to possess this sweetness.”

  I rubbed my thumb along his gently. “Then turn around…?”

  Amadeus bit his lip, before slowly turning away from me. I fought to hold in the gasp. Scars webbed from his upper back to his lower. I winced at the way that they wrapped around his ribs.

  Was this the training that he’d undergone to become the pretty companion for me? Some of the welts looked fresh and were still healing. Had they thrashed him just before his performance in Wild Hall?

  Had he been forced into becoming my Charm?

  I swallowed bile, tracing the scars, whilst Amadeus winced. Their patterns were strangely beautiful: his agony caught forever on his skin.

  “Please, don’t…” Amadeus voice was wet with tears. “It’s shameful to be so marked with my failures. I’m ugly now. Why would you ever want to touch such a ruined…”

  I bent forward and kissed the scar on his shoulder. Amadeus whined in shock and then sighed, whilst his head relaxed back. I rested my arms around his waist, as I reverentially feathered kisses down each scar. He quivered in my hold. When I reached the hollow of his lower back, just above his ass, I licked along the line of his tights, edging under the material with my fingers.

  “Gorgeous,” I whispered against his skin, “all of you.”

  When the music cut off, I glanced over and quivered, when I caught Emperor’s intent and furious gaze. He was trembling worse than me, and his fangs were bared. My eyes widened. I hadn’t been the one to hurt Amadeus, and Emperor was the possessive dick here.

  Or was his rage at the ones who’d tortured Amadeus…and the fact that he hadn’t been able to protect him…?

  “Did you need something, Crimson, or did you just barge in here to lick Amadeus like a lollipop?” Emperor slipped his waistcoat back on and buttoned it with controlled rage, whilst raising his haughty eyebrow at me.

  I flushed, as Amadeus turned to me with a wink.

  “But I’m so tasty.” Amadeus’ voice was as teasing as his fingers, which massaged now down my back. “Don’t pretend that you’re not dying for a lick, Emperor.”

  Emperor huffed, before pulling on his jacket. “I’ll admit that I’ve imagined sucking on you.” When Amadeus spluttered and reddened, Emperor smirked. Then he leapt up and strode towards us, before he commanded, “Tell me why you’ve been crying.”

  I wiped at my puffy eyes. A woman didn’t like to be told that she looked a state. But even worse, that she looked one because the angel…who I didn’t want to die…was fading away upstairs.

  I glanced between my two Charms who were watching me with concerned expressions. Then I clutched onto both their hands, drawing them closer. “We’re screwed, and it’s the sort of danger that kills. It’s no good losing ourselves.” Both wolves stiffened. “It feels good in the moment but it won’t save us. I’ve spent my life hiding and losing myself in painting, thinking that somehow, it’ll make everything better. But it never does. This isn’t siege warfare; we have to face the witches in battle. That means finding the killer of the mage boy, even if the murderer is a witch.”

  Emperor tilted his chin snootily. “Goddess Moon! I told you that no wolf would be fool enough to commit such an act. It seems less clear how it narrows the field to know that it’s a witch.”

  “Because Mischief and Ramiel are angel detectives.” I wouldn’t cry again…on eye of newt and toe of frog, I would not cry… “They can stay behind with Moth, whilst we, along with Moon, investigate the House of Blood.”

  Emperor blanched. “Please, do tell me that’s a joke in truly bad taste.”

  “They’re the coven parents use to frighten their kids in our kingdom,” Amadeus whispered. “Fiends.”

  I smiled, grimly. “Trust me, I know first-hand what asshole fiends they are, and I’m not excited about returning to their mansion where…let’s just say they’re not happy childhood memories.” Emperor’s look was suddenly searching, and I swallowed. “But I’m not a kid now — none of us are — and I won’t let fear stop me. Protecting pack, right? Let’s go save it.”

  Yet if my Charms and I were caught by the House of Blood on their own ghoulish grounds, then we wouldn’t be coming back. Instead, the banks of the river Thames would run with our blood.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The sun boiled down from a summer’s sky that wavered with heat at the back of the House of Blood. I scrunched my nose against the sharp pain of a mosquito’s bite on my neck. When I slapped my hand down to swat the mosquito, then peered at the palm, it was scarlet with the fat parasite’s stolen blood.

  It felt wrong to be searching for a killer under such bright light, rather than the rays of the moon. I shivered, even though I was sweating underneath my mom’s cape, which I just couldn’t give up yet.

  I hunched my shoulders, as I peeked at the towering back gates of the House of Blood that were carved with orbiting planets. My shadows reached out to trace over the carvings, before shying away at the taste of coppery blood magic. Ivy was a professor at Oxford and the spires of her college loomed beyond her Tudor mansion.

  What would the non-magical students think if they knew that a Wolf Charmer and her werewolves were searching for clues to prove that their own professor was a murderer?

  The elitest assholes would probably throw a party. The one thing I knew from the Hamptons was how everything was solved by a Prom, ball, dance on the beach, or alcohol…

  Moon lost his footing on the muddy bank, but Emperor caught him by the waist. I expected Moon to shrug him off, but he only nodded his thanks. Amadeus shot me a small, secret smile. He was swaddled in his long satin top again, as well as his gloves that he pulled at like they were too restrictive. He also squinted in the sun, as if the light hurt his eyes.

  I squelched through the mud to the edge of the Thames that ran behind the coven. The river was sluggish, sickly green, and dead. I gagged: the water stank.

  Moon scooped his claw through the mud, before sniffing and then licking it. I gagged for a second time, covering my mouth.

  “What? Wolf here.” Moon rolled his eyes. “How did single skins ever win the war?”

  Amadeus snickered.

  I wrinkled my nose. “And to think that I want you to kiss me with that mouth…”

  I flushed. I kind of hadn’t wanted to admit that I was desperate for his touch out loud.

  Moon stiffened, and both Amadeus and Emperor glanced at him with sudden understanding and concern.

  I’d only been teasing. What had I said wrong?

  “By my fur, I can do a lot more than kiss with my mouth,” Moon growled.

  Why did that sound much more like a threat of a savaging than a sexy promise?

  Even so, I couldn’t help imagining just what his luscious mouth would feel like…

  “Moon, enough,” Emperor warned in a sudden Alpha voice that even had my legs buckling.

  Moon whined, nuzzling his head against Emperor’s neck like he usually did to me as if to appease him, and my hands clenched. My two Charms looked hot together, and I’d never control who Moon chose to snuggle (even if I loved his cuddles more than anything), but I wouldn’t allow Emperor to boss him around.

  Plus, Emperor’s Omega mask slipped around Moon. He acted the most Alpha of any Alpha I’d yet met, and I had to help him keep his secret.

  Emperor shot me a look like he knew that he’d gone too far. He shrugged, apologetically. “It’s pure reflex. I know that he’s yours.” He stroked Moon’s curls like it was a precious privilege that he’d long been denied. “Do you wish me on my knees again or my back to prove my submission because this mud will entirely ruin my suit and its dry clean only. Although, I do remember, my
dirty little witch, how mind blowing our wild sex was.”

  Amadeus glanced between us with wide — excited — eyes, whilst he panted. Moon, on the other hand, drew away from Emperor, and his eyes narrowed.

  He was jealous…?

  I fought not to laugh, even though I remembered the way that Emperor had linked our hands after I’d branded him, which had been more intimate than sex ever could’ve been (even the wildest variety). “I don’t think so.”

  “Aye, how could any of us compete in bed with the Prince of the Alphas?” Moon muttered.

  “I guess it’s kind of tough to pop your cherry,” I crossed my arms, as my shadows whipped around me agitatedly, and Moon blushed, “when you have a death sentence hanging over your head.”

  Moon’s brow furrowed. “Is this talking nonsense day? If it’s a contest, you’re winning, Crimson.”

  I clenched my jaw, forcing my shadows to hold back from wrapping around Moon and shaking him. Honestly, just a little shake wouldn’t hurt, right…? “Give it up, your Prince of the Alphas has already told on you. You’re the Moon Child, and we’re in some magical bond. If we don’t make this Charm business equal by the full moon, then you’ll die. Did I leave anything out?”

  Moon’s death glare at Emperor was both impressive enough to belong to an Alpha and hot. Emperor only stuck his hands in the pockets of his pants. When the sun glinted off his robe, it looked like the flashing wings of a butterfly. He stared into the blue sky like Moon’s anger was beneath him.

  Moon snarled in frustration. “Nay, that’s the bones of it, but it’s not as if I’m proud of being a…” Moon booted the mud in a sticky spray at Emperor’s immaculate suit. Emperor hopped back in horror. “I wish that I knew how the magic worked but I barely believed in it before I met you,” he finished softly.

  “Boy, that’s a strong case why I should trust a liar who keeps secrets.” My red lashed around me, protectively.

  “I didn’t lie, I just omitted some of the truth,” Moon burst out. Then he held up his muddy claw. “Fur and fangs, I’m the one who knows if the bastards are killers. Although, of course not, not which of the bastards is the killer.”