Dark Glitter_A Dark Fae Reverse Harem Romance

by C. M. Stunich

  The man standing between the two enormous fucking wolves was watching me like … well … like a wolf might watch a piece of meat.

  “Um, Reece?” I asked, flicking a quick glance over at the huge red-haired biker, but not wanting to take my eyes off this guy for too long.

  “Raphael LeRoux.” Reece nodded to the silver-haired man respectfully and I raised my eyebrows in curiosity. The name rang no bells in my sketchy at best memory, but that meant nothing. “What's da Pack doin' in N'awlins den?”

  “Reece,” the man nodded back but his red eyes were still locked on me. His voice rumbled like an angry dog and it sent shivers of fear and … something else, coursing through me. “Heard Le Gardien du Voile had resurfaced. Needed to see for myself whether the rumours were true.”

  “Trè bon, Alpha. Now, you've seen. Ciarah, allons.” Reece tugged at my elbow to draw me back to his bike, but I was transfixed by the beautiful man and his gigantic wolves.

  “Hello.” I smiled at him, not really knowing why. Something inside me, something instinctual, told me he was one of the good guys. He'd barely spoken, yet those words he did utter had glimmered with truth.

  Unlike Arlo's explanation for his injuries. That hadn't been a lie as such, because fae couldn't lie. But it carried a jarring uneasiness that made me sure he was hiding important details.

  “Ciarah, was it?” the handsome man inquired, his words polite but his voice threaded with danger and power. “Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Raphael LeRoux, Alpha and President of the Louisiana Wolves. This here is my beta, and VP, Marcel.” He laid a hand on the slightly larger, chestnut brown wolf to his right. “And my delta, my enforcer, Amelie.” He indicated to the jet-black wolf on his left and it—she—bobbed her head to me in greeting.

  “It's, er, lovely to meet you?” I didn't intend for it to come out as a question but it somehow did nonetheless. One corner of the Alpha's mouth pulled up in what I think was meant to be a smile and he finally blinked.

  It was as if I had been freed from some sort of trap, and I could suddenly breathe again, while he snapped his fingers at the two wolf-ponies. At his command, the two of them shifted in one fluid movement until they were in their human forms.

  Marcel, to Raphael's right, was a Spanish looking man with close-cropped chestnut brown hair and mean looking eyes. Amelie, to his left, was a stunning woman with willowy curves and jet-black hair tightly woven into hundreds of thin braids.

  “So you will know them in both of their forms,” Raphael informed me and I nodded slowly. That was true … but there was something else … I cocked my head to the side, frowning at the handsome wolf Alpha while I tried to work out what could possibly be hiding in that statement.

  Or maybe I was reading him wrong.

  “That's a cool trick,” I commented, indicating to the fact that his wolves had just shifted fully-clothed. “I imagine it would be pretty annoying to carry clothes around with you everywhere.” Beside me, I felt Reece tense. His hand on my arm tightened a fraction and I wondered what I'd said wrong.

  “Yes.” Raphael nodded and this time, both sides of his mouth pulled up in a smile. “It is a cool trick.” His bloodred eyes narrowed at me, causing his smile to turn into something more predatory.

  “It's been a very long time since Le Gardien du Voile was seen. A very long time. Have you come to fix the Veil, then?” All three wolves watched me in hungry curiosity and I frowned.

  What did he mean fix the Veil?

  “Allons, bebelle,” Reece interjected, tugging at my elbow more firmly this time. “Kill is almost done healin' Arlo. We need to get goin' outta here.”

  “Of course, I didn't mean to keep you.” Raphael snapped his fingers once more and his companions melted back into their wolf forms. “It was lovely to make your acquaintance … Ciarah.” As he said my name, he flicked a glance at Reece, who tensed even further.

  “Ah, sure. Nice to meet you too, Raphael.” I nodded and he quirked another small smile.

  “Please, cher, call me Rafe.” At this parting remark, he too shifted into wolf form, a glorious moonlight colored creature with burning bloodred eyes that stared straight through me before the three of them disappeared into the night.

  Reece tugged at my elbow once more, but this time I let him lead me back to the bikes where he wrapped his huge hands around my waist and swung me onto the seat of his hog.

  “Dat was mighty foolish of you, cher,” he spoke quietly, but with truth. “Dat dog wasn’t here for polite hellos, so he wasn’t. Nah, bebelle, he wanted lagniappe. Somethin' extra.”

  “Like what?” I asked, confused as all hell. But that seemed to be my constant state since waking up in that dark and dirty alleyway. Confused.

  “Now dat, ma little minou, I don’t know.” He swung his leg over the seat to settle in front of me while we waited for Arlo and Killian to mount their own beasts. “But we sure soon to find out.”

  #

  My new bedroom left much to be desired, but it was also a far cry from the place I'd spent my last five years. And possibly even my nineteen years before that? But still, even though the sheets were clean, rustling in a warm breeze from the open window, there was a sense of desperation, a flicker of feeling lost that settled over the room.

  I swung my feet out of bed and felt the heaviness of my wings dragging behind me. I could reign them in, but I wasn't sure that I particularly liked to

  Nor did I like this room.

  I swept my hands down my face and paused as a tiny creature landed on my windowsill and bared fanged teeth at me in a hiss. It had shimmery wings, like a dragonfly's, while the rest of it looked vaguely human.

  “Hello little sprite,” I said, even though I had no idea how I knew what the thing was called. “No need to be so upset. I won't infringe on your territory.”

  It looked at me with solid black eyes, the shape of sideways almonds, and then it hissed again, its mouth splitting its face seemingly in half. I frowned. The sprites were very particular over what other fae were welcome in their territory, but not only was I the Veil Keeper, but I was also not in their land whatsoever.

  Veil Keeper? Sprites? How the fuck do I know this stuff?

  I waved my hand at the sprite's mottled green body—its species was one who took after their own environment—and it bit me as hard as it could, drawing blood from my hand. It swelled in fat ruby drops and plopped to the old hardwood floors.

  “Release me at once,” I said, and magic swept into the room, swirling the curtains, knocking over a dusty vase filled with dried flowers. The other me buried deep inside was appalled at the sprite's lack of manners. “Release me,” I repeated, my voice … husky but dangerous. Not my own. Not my own voice at all.

  I felt my hands twitch, as if they were no longer under my control.

  “Let go!” I snarled, and then my other hand was coming up and grabbing the creature around its tiny naked body. It was the size of a Barbie Doll, but even more alien, more exaggerated in its appearance. My fingers squeezed tighter, and it finally released its hold on my hand.

  But I didn't let go.

  My grip tightened, and I felt the magic in the room coil around me, ancient and old and sleepy. But angry, too. Furious.

  With a sharp gasp, I released the small creature and stumbled back, leaving its crumpled form on the windowsill. After a moment of trying to catch my breath, I eased forward and poked it gently.

  It was dead.

  My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach, and I turned, fleeing the room, my wings sweeping along the wood floor as I ran.

  Straight into Arlo's room.

  The door was locked, but a flick of my finger and a dusting of magic unlocked it.

  How I did that, I wasn't sure. But the same part of me that had killed the sprite had done it, that much I knew for certain.

  Padding across the wood, I lifted up the corner of Arlo's blanket and slid into bed with him.

  He was already growling and groaning
under his breath, turning to face me, his naked body pressing up close to mine.

  “The fuck are you doing in here again?” he snarled, but I was already reaching out and curling my fingers around his shoulders, putting my head in the crook of his neck. He smelt of mint soap and earth, fresh and wild.

  In sleep, he'd shed his glamour so when he lifted his head to look at me, I looked into the emerald eyes of a god. His white horns curved up and away from the tousle of curled dark hair on his head.

  He was magnificent, even if I was a bit pissed off at him, too.

  “I killed something,” I whispered in low tones, “and also, I don't like that room. I much prefer this one.”

  Arlo just stared at me for a long moment, dropping a hand to my hip.

  My sleeping shirt had ridden up, revealing the pale curve of bare flesh, and his palm rested directly against it, teasing me.

  “You killed something?” he asked, but his voice was husky, too, like he didn't much care about that part of my story. Maybe he cared more about the fact that he was naked and I was not wearing panties, that he was an earth god, all male and desperate to breed, and I was a very willing female.

  I reached out and put a palm on his chest, my lips parted to ask him about the sprite, when the door opened and Killian appeared.

  “Ciarah,” he said, voice soft, lifting up the tiny creature by one of its minuscule little feet. “I found this in your room.”

  “That is not my room,” I corrected, sitting up and loving the feel of Arlo's palm sliding down my hip to rest on my thigh. “This one is now.”

  “The fuck it is—” Arlo began to growl, but I stifled him by reaching out and curling my fingers around the base of his rigid shaft.

  “This is my room now,” I repeated, squeezing him almost as hard as I'd squeezed that poor creature. Shit, why had I done that? And how fucking terrifying was it that I didn't know how to stop?

  “I find it disturbing that a sprite even thought to come to the clubhouse,” Killian said, his voice buttered with just the slightest hint of a French accent. His words were mellifluous and inviting, a siren's song. I wet my lips and blinked past the feeling. “They come in swarms, you know. Thousands upon thousands of them. They can strip a person of flesh in less than a minute.” He wrinkled his nose at the little creature, and sneered with distaste. “I'll give this to Reece to feed to that gator of his,” he added, turning to go and then pausing, seemingly stopped by the expression on my face. “Don't feel bad about this, mon cher. Sprites are less than rats. They eat everything and everyone that comes into their corner of the swamp.”

  I lifted the hand with the bite on it, still bleeding and still hurting, and Kill frowned.

  “I'll come back and heal that,” he started, but I was already shaking my head.

  “Just go,” I said, the morning sunshine reflecting off the steel toes of his boots. “And I'll come down when I'm ready.”

  “The president is here,” he said carefully, “and so is his wife. If you take too long, they'll come looking for you.” With a sinful slash of smile, Killian turned and left, closing the door behind him.

  “You want to take your hand off my dick?” Arlo growled, but he made no move to stop me, and it was clear what he wanted from the expression on his face and the vibrant heat in his words.

  “No,” I said, frowning and then turning toward him, throwing one leg over his pelvis and settling myself on top of him. My hand was still in front of me, wrapped about the base of his cock. “Why did you leave last night?”

  “None of your damn—” Arlo started again, but I abruptly released his shaft and crawled forward, straddling his hardness with the nakedness between my thighs, looking down at him with that same wild stare I'd given the sprite. Magic was still in the air, riding me hard, and I didn't know what to do with it.

  Whatever man I want is mine, the voice inside my head told me.

  The other part of me said that was a tad archaic, a little sexist … but even she didn't really care. No, both sides of me found the thought intriguing.

  “Did you kiss her?” I asked, leaning toward his stubbled jaw and pressing my lips against the side of it. I didn't really know if there was a her at all, but then … isn't there always?

  “You need to get the hell off of me and out of my room before …” Arlo started, putting one of his big hands on either side of my hips. My tongue flicked across my lower lip, drawing his attention.

  “Did you? I'd know if you fucked her. I would've smelled it.”

  “You creepy bitch,” Arlo said, but then he was reaching between us and taking hold of himself in one hand, guiding the head of his shaft to my opening. Our eyes were locked as he found the glorious wetness between my thighs and cursed under his breath. “Motherfucker …” he breathed, just as I sat back and slid down the length of him, taking the velvety girth of his shaft deep inside of me.

  “Did you kiss her?” I asked one more time, sitting on him, feeling him trapped inside of me. After so many years of being powerless … I quite enjoyed the switch.

  “No,” Arlo ground out, putting pressure on my hips and holding me in place. “Not that it’d be any of your business if I had.”

  “It is all my fucking business,” I said, putting a hand against the side of his face and curling my fingers so that my nails dug into his skin. “Everything that happens with the Wild Hunt is my business. And everyone in it? They belong to me.”

  “Fucking hell,” Arlo snarled, but then my mouth was pressing against his, and he was lifting a hand to put pressure on the back of my head. Our kiss … it was violent and primal, an uncomplicated meeting of the masculine and feminine aspects of nature. Our tongues slid together, twisted in a rush of vibrant heat, and my hips began to move, both soothing and claiming the beast beneath me.

  My fingers lifted up and curled around of Arlo’s horns, sending a shiver through his body. Once again, I knew things I shouldn’t have known … like how Arlo’s horns were erogenous zones. I had never met a man with horns … never met a faerie … as far as I could tell?

  It was all so confusing, living with two personalities inside my head.

  But as I began to move, I realized those feelings were drifting further and further from me, replaced with the bestial pleasure of a good rut, a wild mating.

  Arlo moaned against my mouth as my body rocked on top of him, taking everything and demanding more. My lips left his and my back arched, tilting my hips until I could feel the tip of him sliding and scraping against my sweet spot, sending lightning bolts of pleasure shooting through me.

  The heavy drape of my wings blanketed his thighs as I leaned back further, shivering as the new nerve endings lit up.

  His hands slid up from my waist, pushing up my sleep shirt and cupping my breasts in his hands. My breath sucked in sharply as his fingers found my nipples, pinching them and rolling them roughly. He probably intended it to be a show of power and control, but it just made me chuckle low in my throat. Silly man, had he not learned by now? I was his goddess.

  Not to mention the stinging bite of his fingers on my sensitive flesh only served to arouse me further.

  Somewhere in the edge of my memory, a shadowy figure spoke to me of pain far outweighing this. Years on years of torture and despair. But when I tried to grab ahold of the memory, to examine it closer, it melted away like mist.

  “Veil Keeper, don't go thinking this means you own me,” Arlo growled, his unglamoured voice rich and husky. When his hands returned to my waist and he began to thrust up into me, his eyes locked on mine with a wild intensity that gave me chills. In a good way.

  My only response was another sultry laugh, because we both knew that was exactly what this meant. I owned him, body and soul. And right now, that body needed to learn a damn lesson.

  Bracing my hands on his hard, muscled chest, I rode him like the wild thing he was, building my own climax and not hesitating for a second before giving into the euphoric haze of orgasm. My fingernails dug in
to his skin, hard enough to draw blood, while I cried out my release then immediately sat up and let his hard-as-fuck cock slip from my cunt.

  “What are you doing?” Arlo panted in confusion, his huge hands gripping at my hips.

  “Listen carefully, Cernunnos.” My voice was both mine and hers; every time we spoke our voices mixed just a little more and I knew it wouldn't be long until we were one. “If you ever so much as think of putting this inside another woman.” My hand grasped his slick shaft in a tight grip once more. “You'll have a hell of a lot more to deal with than just a case of blue balls. Am I clear?”

  Arlo glared back at me, his bright green eyes furious and disbelieving. As his lip curled, no doubt preparing to tell me where to shove it, my fingers tightened around his dick and I let her meet his gaze.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, he nodded his agreement and I released him one finger at a time.

  “Good,” I nodded without blinking, but swung my leg off him and stood. My wings brushed across his midsection as I moved, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Your president and his wife are waiting downstairs,” I reminded him, “we shouldn't keep them waiting.”

  Arlo glared at me for a long moment, but I held his gaze unwaveringly. Amnesia or not, I knew what I was doing here.

  “Fine,” he ground out, pushing up from his bed and deliberately crowding me with his enormous frame. I didn't so much as bat an eyelid though, and he moved to his dresser to throw on a pair of low slung black jeans and a thin looking t-shirt. He made a very deliberate show of stroking himself, as he tucked his still erect shaft inside his jeans, and my mouth watered.

  What did he taste like? I could smell his pent-up desire from across the room, and it was almost enough to make me change my mind.

  “Do you plan on wearing pants?” He challenged me, as I stood there with my head cocked, watching him.