A Reverse Harem Romance Collection Box Set

by Lane Hart

  “Then, by all means, don’t stop on my account. Enjoy your last gourmet meal, vampire,” Rowan says when he comes over and cups the back of my head before lowering his lips to mine for a quick kiss despite where he knows they have recently been. “I’ll sit right here and wait my turn.” He plops down on the other end of the sofa, close enough to watch but not participate.

  “Are you sure?” I ask Rowan as Drake lines himself at my entrance, ready and impatient for me to sink down on him so he can sink his teeth into my neck.

  Most nights I take my three men at the same time, relishing having all three touch me, kiss me and fill me at the same time. It’s amazing to be surrounded by so much unconditional love for the first time in my life. We’re not just a good team in the bedroom, but for the academy too. We work long, hard hours to ensure everyone’s safety, which is all the more reason why we need to unwind at night…and sometimes during lunch.

  “Don’t worry, darlin’,” Rowan says. “I may not be able to put a baby in you, but when I bend you over that desk over there, there won’t be room for anyone else.”

  “Can’t wait,” I tell him as I lower myself on Drake’s cock and reach for Kingston’s shaft to resume making him feel good. Unable to resist both urges, Drake scrapes his fangs over my neck before plunging in, sucking deeply while I do the same.

  The entire time I hold Rowan’s gaze, knowing he cares for me so much he needed a little time to wrap his head around our decision. While he would never admit it, he hates not being able to have children with me. But he’s given me so much more with his friendship, love and affection that it more than makes up for it.

  And I know that while Rowan may not be a biological parent to our children, he’ll still be an amazing father along with Kingston and even Drake, in his own way.

  Not only have the four of us saved the academy and improved the lives of all the supernaturals, we’ll also bring lots of witches and warlocks into the world, not because it’s our responsibility but because we were all destined to make magic together.

  The End

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue were created from the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.

  The author acknowledge the copyrighted and trademarked status of various products within this work of fiction.

  © 2019 Editor's Choice Publishing

  All Rights Reserved.

  Only Amazon has permission from the publisher to sell and distribute this title.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editor’s Choice Publishing

  P.O. Box 10024

  Greensboro, NC 27404

  Edited by Angela Snyder

  Cover by EmCat Designs

  WARNING: THIS BOOK IS NOT SUITABLE FOR ANYONE UNDER 18.

  Synopsis

  Newly turned, brooding vampire Cash doesn’t have anything in common with Zaine, his young warlock roommate at Wicked Academy. At least he didn’t until they both find themselves trying to win over the same mesmerizing woman.

  Men have always been drawn to Nadia, the odd girl with crimson hair and lavender-colored eyes. And finally, after thirty years, she’s about to find out why.

  The unrelenting magnetic pull Cash and Zaine both feel toward Nadia isn’t just a coincidence. She seems to have the same effect on every guy she ever touches. The problem is that just one night in bed with her could cost a human or warlock male their life unless she figures out how to stop draining the life force out of them.

  When someone comes after Nadia, it’ll take all of her lovers to keep her safe. But the people who want her are desperate for her unparalleled powers and will do whatever it takes to make her fight for them.

  Chapter 1

  Cash Taylor

  Being a blood sucker, well…sucks. I guess it beats the alternative, though, which is being dead.

  And ever since the council overthrew the coven masters at the academy two years ago, I’ve been able to become a volunteer firefighter. I have to admit that it’s pretty handy to discreetly give victims my blood to heal their injuries and save their lives that would've otherwise been lost. Even so, I still can't put an end to my regular pity parties.

  "You wanna go out with us tonight?" my roommate, Zaine, asks on his way out the door of the dorm we share.

  "No,” I answer from my usual spot in front of my laptop on our shared desk.

  "Oh, come on! You never leave the room except for work!"

  "No."

  I've only been a vampire for a few years; and instead of it getting easier, things are growing more difficult. The lust, god, the lust is unlike anything I've felt before. Not just for blood but for sex too. That’s another reason why I still live at the academy for free where there’s always a supply of bag blood available. I hold off for as long as I can, usually about two weeks before I give in to the craving.

  Each feeding has my cock harder than the last, my body desperate to suck and fuck at the same time. So, to say my new lifestyle is hell on my social life would be an understatement. There is no such thing as a social life for me now unless I want to out myself or sleep with Jezebel, my maker and the only female vamp around. And Jez is…well, persistent, which is a turnoff.

  "You're just going to stay here and keep moping around?" Zaine asks with a punch to my shoulder, not that it hurt. In response, I barely poked him in the chest with my pointy finger and he slams backwards against the far wall. Okay, so having super human strength is pretty cool too.

  "Damn it, Cash! Was that really necessary?" Zaine asks, rubbing the back of his hard head. Like anything could ever hurt that thick skull or all the hair products he uses to style his faux hawk.

  "Sorry, I forgot my strength," I respond sarcastically.

  "Fine, stay here and sulk. Me and some of the other warlocks are going to hit up Sin. There are going to be so many fine ass women in the club just begging to get laid tonight."

  "Right, so I should, what? Go with you and bring one back here to bleed her out? Give her some iron pills and shoo her out the door in the morning like nothing happened? I'm sure she'll never notice my razor-blade teeth striking her neck."

  "Fuck, I didn't say you had to bite anyone," he grimaces.

  "How many times do I have to tell you? Sex and feeding is one in the same. And despite how much I'd love to, I can't separate them!"

  "Whatever, man. See you in the morning," he says over his shoulder as he heads out the door.

  I lean back in my computer chair and try to figure out what site to visit next or what show to binge on Netflix. I’ve seen enough porn and sitcoms to last my immortal lifetime, so I get up and head for the fridge to grab another can of beer to drown my sorrows and loneliness. I slip my hand into the big, black cardboard box in our small unit, and... it’s empty. Son of a bitch! I hate when Zaine drinks the last one and doesn't throw the fucking thing out. I jerk the container free and toss it in the direction of the trash can. Guess I'm going out after all since you can't have a pity party without alcohol.

  I grab my car keys, throw on my coat, and then take the stairs down to the parking garage where I climb into my Explorer. Golden Gate Foods is the closest grocery store, so that's where I’m off to as soon as the guard working the night shift opens the gate surrounding the property for me to leave. With my window rolled down, I hear something, or should I say, someone howling from the forest in the far corner of the grounds. That’s right, tonight’s the full moon, so all of our shifter residents are running around on all fours.

  The roads are mostly empty this time of night in our little community as I head out of the neighborhood, and there’s a thick, eerie fog covering the pavement like something out of a scary movie. I’m sure it just seems that way because of the b
rightness of the full moon.

  Oh, and it’s Friday. Friday the fucking thirteenth.

  As far as bad omens go, all that’s missing is a black cat running out in front of me.

  Thankfully, I make it to the store without any strays crossing my path. There are only a few cars in the parking lot, probably because humans are superstitious as fuck. I’m not, and I would gladly walk under a ladder and break a mirror to get my six pack of beer. Fuck the seven measly years. As an immortal vampire, I’m looking at an eternity of bad luck.

  Locking the SUV’s doors with the key fob, I stroll into the store, and right into a Motherfucking. Armed. Robbery.

  Awesome.

  The scrawny bastard standing by a young, redheaded cashier swings his handgun around at me when he hears the whoosh of the sliding glass doors.

  "Hands in the air and…and don't move," the punk says, sounding like a wannabe cop. He looks like he's eighteen at most, thin and wimpy, dressed in all black except for his pale face. Leather gloves cover his hands. He’s pulled out all the stops. I think about doing what he asks for about half a second.

  "I'm sorry, what was it you wanted me to do?" I ask while taking several steps toward him.

  "Don't move! Take one more step and I'll shoot!" he yells, gun still aimed in my direction. Oh, so I've succeeded in pissing him off. Well, good, because he's pissing me off too. All I wanted was a few goddamn beers so I could get back to my shitty, isolated life, but no. This asshole, thug life reject decided to come into my neighborhood store, scaring the shit out of people to steal a few measly dollars probably to support his pathetic drug habit.

  Hell. No.

  I take another step toward him and the gun extended in his hands begins to shake.

  "Bullshitter," I taunt him.

  "I'll do it," he threatens.

  "I don't think you will. I don't think you've got the balls to pull the trigger," I say, walking steadily toward him.

  He fires off a shot.

  "You missed," I remark when it goes wide and lodges in the red movie rental machine.

  He fires again as I keep moving forward. I have a feeling I'm finally about to test the whole "can't be killed" theory. But I'm pissed and angry at this new life of mine and this bastard, so I don't back down.

  "You missed again. Come on, maybe the third time's the charm," I goad him. As close as I am, there’s no way he'll miss on the next one.

  He fires and hits me in the upper right side of my chest. Damn if it doesn’t sting.

  Now I'm close enough to touch him, though. I haul my right fist back and then nail him across the side of his face. His head snaps to the side, along with the rest of his body as he goes airborne off the ground and then collapses several feet away, out cold. His gun fell from his hand and to the ground, so I step over and kick it to the other side of the building, not that the jackass will be waking up anytime soon.

  I turn around to finally check on the nice people in the store and do damage control. The young and incredibly beautiful cashier's mouth is hanging open as she stands frozen. She has a stack of money still in one hand and a bag in the other.

  An old man with white hair is on the other side of her register, looking ill. They are the only two witnesses, thank Lucifer. Before I can sigh in relief, the old man grabs his chest and goes down.

  "Call nine-one-one," I yell to the clerk. I watch to make sure she follows through, but she's on it, throwing the money back into the register and grabbing the store phone at her counter to dial out.

  I kneel at the man's side and find him unconscious either from what's likely a heart attack or from hitting his head on the floor.

  Shit.

  I glance up, and even though the cashier is watching, I don't have a choice. Sure, I'm trained in CPR, first-aid and all the other shit that won't do any good. I have to break out the big guns.

  "I'm a cashier at the Golden Gate Foods on Miller Street and we just got robbed!" the cashier says frantically into the phone. "We were getting robbed, but um … yes, the robber's still here, but there's an old man. I think he's having a heart attack. Send an ambulance and hur-"

  I tilt the man's chin up which parts his lips, bite my wrist, and then hold the trickle of blood over his mouth. Looking over at the girl, I place a finger up to my lips in the universal sign of "keep quiet" praying she'll do it.

  "Yes. Hurry," she says into the receiver, then hangs up to come around the register and kneel by my side on the floor. "What the hell are you doing?" she asks, her intense violet-blue eyes boring into mine.

  "Are your eyes really purple?" I ask in amazement. I've never seen anything like it. Must be colored contacts.

  "Don't try and change the subject!" she snaps, showing me she has a feisty side when she isn't scared shitless from being robbed at gunpoint. "What are you doing?" she asks again.

  The man comes to; and by the time I pull my wrist away, the two small holes I've made instantly heal.

  "How did you…wait, aren't you hurt?" Her hands push the sides of my black leather coat back to look at my hole in my shirt. She even lifts my long sleeve tee and places her palms against my skin, feeling for the hole that I can feel closing along with her searing heat.

  Oh fuck.

  Why do her hands feel so warm and really fucking good? Part of me wants to remove them, while another part never wants her to stop touching me.

  "I need you to keep your mouth shut about the blood and the bullet, okay? Can you please do that for me?" I ask her.

  I glance down when the bullet eases back out of my chest, hitting the linoleum floor with a tinkling sound. With the cashier watching, I pick it up and wipe it off with the bottom of my shirt, careful to avoid fingerprints, then toss it in the direction of the other ones.

  "What the-" the woman starts, then her hand flies to her forehead. "I don't feel so good."

  She faints in such a theatrical way I'm sure it'll be funny when I think back on this moment later.

  My quick vampire reflexes help me catch her lean frame before her head hits the floor. At least she was still kneeling and didn't have as far to fall. I lay her upper body down gently beside the man, then zip up my jacket, covering my bloody shirt.

  "How are you feeling?" I ask the guy who's now trying to sit up. Checking his pulse on his wrist, it sounds regular and strong.

  "Good. Better than good. My knees don't hurt or my hands," he says, clenching and releasing his fists.

  I nod and then get to the important part when I heard sirens approaching. "Do you remember what happened?" I ask him.

  His eyes behind his skewed glasses look around as he gets into a straighter sitting position, trying to figure out where he is.

  "The store was getting robbed, right?" he asks me.

  "Yeah."

  "And the asshole shot at you."

  "Uh-huh," I nod, bracing myself.

  "Then my chest started hurting …"

  "That’s right, and an ambulance is on the way."

  He nods, then glances over, noticing the prone young woman.

  "What happened to her?" he asks.

  "Too much excitement. She passed out."

  "Doggone it. What a crazy night," he mutters with a shake of his head.

  "Tell me about it," I agree, standing up to head for the glass sliding doors. A pair of young cops I'm familiar with from accident scenes are heading inside with guns drawn. Since they know me, I'm confident they won't shoot, wrongly assuming I'm the robber.

  "Ellis, Cooke, you won't believe this shit," I tell them with a smile.

  "Cash?" Officer Tom Ellis says in recognition, putting his gun away. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into?" he asks, taking in the scene. Like usual, Tom’s light hair is shaved high and tight like the no-nonsense former military guy he is, the complete opposite of Cooke who is about twenty pounds overweight and in desperate need of a haircut.

  "That asshole was robbing the store when I walked in," I say, pointing to the kid that's still out cold. "I
cold cocked his ass. Then, this nice gentleman started having chest pains, and the, um, cashier fainted."

  About that time, an ambulance pulls up in front of the glass windows with its bright lights on. The paramedics are inside the store with their medical bags a second later. I guide them to the man and cashier still on the floor so they can check them out. I have a feeling the old man is going to be feeling better than he has in years, and the girl, God, I hope she keeps her sexy, little mouth shut.

  Ellis bends down and cuffs the asshole still sleeping on the floor while Cooke searches his pockets.

  "Did he have a gun?" Ellis looks up and asks.

  "Yeah, I, ah, kicked it over there," I say, pointing across the store.

  "Good thinking," Cooke remarks as he pulls on some latex gloves and walks over to grab it.

  "Did he fire it?" he asks as he looks the firearm over.

  "Yes, three shots toward that direction." I point toward the entrance.

  "Wh-what the hell's going on out here?" a masculine voice asks, starling us. We all turn toward the thirty-something man with a red vest and name tag standing near the aisles of groceries. I can read it from where I’m standing since I have above average vision now, "Jim Osborne, Store Manager."

  That son of a bitch! Has he been hiding out in the back or in an aisle waiting until the coast was clear? Shit, how much did he see?

  "Your store just got robbed," I tell him to see his reaction.