Tempted by Demons: A Reverse Harem Paranormal (Brides of the Sinistral Realms)

by Lidiya Foxglove

  She didn’t start making a fuss about the butter, to her credit. This was a girl who could appreciate some food. “You do cooking lessons here?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, almost curt. The cooking lessons we advertised were more of a dare than anything. Most people balked when they saw the wood-burning stove.

  “Stressful job?” Van asked, swooping back in on me. He probably figured my attitude wouldn’t win him the bet.

  “Sort of. I’m a social media manager for a non-profit. I really like what I do, I mean…it’s important work. We help protect habitats for migrating birds, like their nesting grounds, and we educate people about making their yards bird-friendly and stuff.”

  “Ah, you like birds,” Van said approvingly.

  “Who doesn’t like birds?” she said, but the way she dove right back into the conversation, I wondered if she really cared. “We started out focused on the Chesapeake Bay and we still do a lot of work there with surveying populations and protecting important habitats, working with some other local charities and foundations, but we’ve actually been able to expand our reach, so that’s exciting.” She sounded very perky, but I detected a hint of falseness.

  “A social media manager, huh?”

  “I know. I’m hopeless.”

  “I was just thinking that,” I said.

  She shot me a fierce glower that was an instant turn-on. Yeah, there was some fire in this girl after all. “I’ve done a lot of good work, too,” she said. “I work hard. Even when I first got really into social media it was through my college blog. I wanted to help people eat better because I saw how tired my roommates were, eating crap all the time. I try not to be holier-than-thou about it, but…” She was cutting up her entire steak while she talked, like she was taking out some aggression onto the poor meat. “I’m just looking for a connection, really. Aren’t we all? Then again, maybe you’re not, if you grew up in sort of a cult and never leave the island.”

  Now it was my time to shoot a glower—at Alister.

  He lifted his eyebrows in feigned innocence.

  “What did you tell her?” I demanded.

  “Not a religious cult,” Alister said. “But I’m tired of pretending to be normal.”

  “So we’re abnormal now? Great.”

  “As if it isn’t obvious to everyone anyway.”

  “You don’t need to impress me,” Edie said lightly. “I’ll be leaving in two weeks.”

  She was already thinking about leaving. “We’re not in a cult,” I insisted. “We grew up in a small town together and we like taking care of this island, that’s all.”

  Alister shrugged. He shouldn’t tell one of our guests what we really were. Before she was ready.

  I didn’t want this to turn into a family argument in front of her, so I shut up, but I was infuriated. Alister was going to mess this whole thing up. We couldn’t just blurt out that we were otherworldly elemental demons. Telling half the story was even worse.

  “Where are you from?” Van asked.

  “DC area, now. I grew up in a little town that was like…just, super small town midwestern stereotype. Maybe not as small town as what you guys have, just one of those places where you’ve like, ‘I’ve got to get out of here’…and then you kind of miss it.”

  “What is a midwestern stereotype?” Van asked, with a sly grin. “You grow corn?”

  She laughed. “I do know people who grow corn…but mainly it’s the sensibility. My parents are very nice people, like, they would give the shirt off their back to someone who needed it, white, black, gay, whatever. But if I decided I was gay and dated a black woman? They would lose their shit. I wanted to go to the city and like, be around all sorts of people, where I could become any sort of person too. But then, in recent years I’m realizing I don’t go anywhere. I’m overwhelmed. Living outside of a big city can feel a little cold. And I’m not sure I became anything different at all. I thought I was cooler than I was.” She laughed gently.

  “Humans are always so obsessed with being something different,” Van observed.

  “Humans…yeah,” Edie said. “As opposed to what?”

  “I mean, most humans. We’re loyal to the place where we’re rooted. I know every plant and animal here. I’ve never thought much about being anything different.”

  “You’re lucky, then,” Edie said, in a lower tone. I saw her hands clench a little, and she took another glass of wine, which seemed to be almost a nervous tic with her.

  We were definitely getting deeper with this girl than we usually did at dinner. The first night? A woman was usually a little bedazzled by our looks and babbling a bit, or if she was confident she was making flirtatious small talk. We would be making plans to show her the usual island amenities before asking her to dance.

  Edie was different. Something about her seemed so vulnerable, like she was desperately searching for something she never found. At the same time, she wasn’t exactly lost. It was clear she had made some bold movies in the past to get what she wanted, and the girl knew what she was doing in that sexy dress. If we pushed her too far, she pushed back.

  Alister gave me a warning look before turning his eyes on Edie. He knew me too well; knew what I was thinking.

  Why did we have to bend over backwards to please our guests? Why did we have to ‘dance’ first? Why did we even have to explain ourselves? We were demons. Our ancestors had unlocked the gates of the Sinistral Realm with force and will, creating the first dark spells.

  The denizens of the Ethereal Realm often considered us evil. Not true. We weren’t evil, but we were many other things. Dark. Brutal. Calculating. As far as I was concerned, the fall of our ancestors was meant to be, because what would the world be without darkness? What would a forest be without cleansing fires and creatures with claws and teeth who stalked their prey in the night?

  Had we become so afraid of human women, so intimidated by our need to find a bride, that we lost sight of our nature?

  Edie wanted to leave in two weeks? She would have to get through me first.

  It was time to put up a good fight.

  Chapter Seven

  Edie

  Dinner was amazing. When the meal started, I could hardly stand my inability to brag about the food to other people, but I forced myself to focus on the moment. Pretty soon, I was noticing subtleties among the guys. It was so obvious that they’d known each other forever, because they shared small expressions frequently. They were having a whole conversation without me, just with glances or smiles or pauses, and I wanted to learn their language.

  They were also quite different from each other.

  Alister fancied himself the leader, I thought, but no one else did. He had to be the oldest, I thought, because the big brother vibes were strong. He was always trying to smooth everything over a bit. Although the most genteel, you couldn’t call him gentle. Whenever he met my eyes, he had a look that said, I would master you, once you allow it. It made my imagination go a little wild.

  Not gonna lie, it was intriguing. I had never wished for a guy who made me feel like that, and I would’ve said being dominated by a man was an affront to me as a strong woman, but what had I gotten instead? Three exes who were all wrapped up in their own dreams and careers and who all had their own ways of using me while being fairly useless themselves. They all talked more than they listened, and expecting more of me than they were willing to give. The bedroom situation followed the same trend. I had faked a few orgasms in my day just so they wouldn’t get impatient with me.

  Somehow I just knew I wouldn’t have to do that to Alister. I imagined he would tell me what to do, but his focus would be all on me. He wasn’t the kind of guy who would just bang me and then stay awake long enough to mumble, “You need anything from me, babe?” in a tone that clearly meant, I hope not, because I need to get some sleep before work.

  Van had a straightforward quality to him that reminded me more of a farm boy I had a crush on in high school. He wasn’t exactly a cow
boy, but he still would look right at home in some Wranglers. I guess that made sense, since Van was obvious the outdoors type, personable and charming while also being kind of a loner. He always looked deep in thought.

  There was something about him that I couldn’t quite read—a secret all the guys shared. Maybe it was written in those books. It was kind of strange, I thought, that it didn’t creep me out.

  As far as Dante, well, I had a confession. I hated cocky male chefs. Whenever I read an interview with some hot chef whose specialty was like, cooking hog jowls over an open flame, with all the talk about how he was “shaking up the industry”, I wanted to groan. Guys, you know? Like, chill. You’re not that amazing.

  Occasionally I had amateur versions of those guys on my blog, and while SwordGuru had certainly been the most persistent, I was so over being mansplained when I just wanted to make some spaghetti. Not to even mention the time I used the word “barbecue” to describe what I did to some short ribs. Oh my god. Never again.

  Anyway, Dante was giving me those vibes. He knew his food was good. I already expected the cooking lessons were going to be a test of my personal pride and will.

  Bring it on.

  Still. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to enjoy the food. I thought I was stuffed, but when Dante brought out the cake, somehow I had room for two pieces.

  After dinner, the guys started clearing the table, leaving me to finish my wine. Even this was surprisingly hot. I felt less like a hotel guest and more like I had three husbands who actually did everything for me. Hello, fantasy land. Even if I did hear all the dishes getting dumped into clattering piles in the kitchen. Well, either way, I wouldn’t have to worry about it.

  “Would you like to dance?” Alister asked, holding out a hand.

  “Um…it’s a little strange to have a dance when it’s just the four of us,” I said. “It was on the brochure, but I expected there would be other people dancing too.”

  “Strange?” Van said. He leaned against the mantle, which in the dining room was framed with intricately painted tiles. “You don’t want to dance with us?” His green eyes looked straight at me. They were entrancing, those eyes—full of some philosophical depth, as if he knew things he wasn’t telling the rest of us.

  “I mean…I do, but…”

  “You look too dead sexy in that dress to go straight to bed,” Dante said.

  My face must have turned crimson.

  “Come on,” Alister said. “No need to be shy. It’s just us. No one’s watching or judging you.”

  ‘It’s just us’ was exactly why I was shy. No one’s watching? They were watching.

  It didn’t make any sense. I told my blog all about my breakup with Bryon back in the day, and I was perfectly willing to post a video called “Crepe Fail!!!” with me freaking out over a burnt mess in my pajamas and show it to potentially the entire world. So what did it matter if I stepped on some toes trying to dance with these guys? What did it matter if all their attention was on me?

  It’s been a long time since anyone’s seen the real me.

  I knew that was it. Even my most embarrassing vlogs were acted out to be funny and carefully edited. But when it came to living in the moment where I couldn’t control everything…

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s dance. I probably don’t know how to do whatever dance you’re thinking of, just so you know.”

  “We might be stuck on an island, but we’re not going to do the Viennese Waltz,” Dante said. “We do have a stereo.”

  Alister glanced at him like he had, in fact, been about to suggest that very thing.

  “Okay,” I said. The phrase ‘a stereo’ somehow did not make me feel confident about the modernity of their musical collection, but Nicole was into vinyl, so I wasn’t totally out of it.

  Dante opened the upper doors of a cabinet in the same room as the piano, and sure enough—there it was. A turntable, a cassette deck, a 90s CD player, and a receiver that was probably older than me with a lot of lights on it. Weirdly, none of this was plugged in and he had to take a minute to hook it all up. Must have something to do with the bad electricity. This place probably still had that old wiring that my grandparents replaced in their house…what did you call it? Rag and bone?

  No, knob and tube, that’s it. Jeez. I idly wondered how easy my tower room would be to escape if everything caught fire.

  “I could just play the piano,” Alister said.

  “No, we’re doing this,” Dante said. “Everyone’s sick of piano. Let’s see…what’s good for dancing?” He opened the lower set of doors, where a very random collection of music through the ages was jammed in wherever it might fit. I wished I was more familiar with the bands. There really was nothing new and recognizable here. I guessed different proprietors of the house had amassed this music over the years.

  “How about this?” I pulled out a CD called “Mega Hits 1998” with a graphic of lightning effects shooting out of a boom box. “Ooh. Some fun stuff on here. Did you guys hear this as a kid like I did?”

  “No,” Van said. “But it sounds perfect to me.”

  “This wasn’t what I had in mind,” Alister said.

  Dante looked at the track list. “It’s very…”

  “What is it?” I crossed my arms. “Go on. I can tell you want to tell me how stupid it is. Tell me what kind of testosterone-laced rock you think is better.”

  He almost smiled. “How do you know that’s what I like?”

  “I know the type. Are these weird European sounding metal CDs yours?”

  He cracked open Mega Hits. “All right, Shania Twain, let’s do this ‘fun stuff’.” He put it on like it was a challenge and he knew I would be uncomfortable. “Was this your middle grade jam?”

  “Fifth grade, actually…but close enough.”

  Still, as soon as the first notes filled the room, unexpectedly loud, I started losing my nerve. This was better music for hanging out with some friends in a bar in jeans and a t-shirt, beer in hand, not in a cocktail dress in a Victorian music room with three strange, judgmental, super-hot men. While I was slightly stuffed with cake. I was immediately sorry I had taken the challenge.

  And then Van held out his hand. “C’mon,” he said.

  He slipped a hand around my waist and spun me around to the music, with a sly smile on his face, like this was a secret we now shared. He got me to move whether I wanted to or not. At first I was halting, but Van’s lack of self-consciousness got to me soon enough. I’m not sure when the exact point was that I stopped worrying too much about where I was, but at some point, it happened.

  The song changed just as I was starting to have fun. I was afraid he would stop. He didn’t. Dante threw up a hand and left the room. Alister sat down at the piano, watching us. I had this weird feeling he was watching for something—like a contest judge. I brushed him out of my mind.

  When the beat slowed down, Van drew me closer to him until I could feel his body heat close to my own, and I was so close to actually feeling his skin to mine I could hardly stand it. I dared to gaze up and meet his eyes. He smiled, the humor in his mouth reaching up to his beautiful eyes. I grazed over his perfect cheekbones and his jaw line and then I realized my mouth was hanging open and abruptly shut it.

  “You’re cute,” he said, his voice low, rumbling right down to that deep place inside me that said, Ohh yeah, you need to make babies with this guy.

  A club dance song kicked in, and his hands slipped down to my hips like he knew what I wanted. The heat between us built as we swayed back and forth. I started losing myself in the beat, in the feel of his hands on me. I could hardly believe how much I was just letting go. He was leading the way, and I was just having a good time.

  If I could peel up that t-shirt…slide my hands up and down those abs… I could feel the suggestion of his body when we got close and it was tantalizing. “Where did you come from?” I found myself murmuring as I put my hands to his shoulders. I loved feeling the muscles there move as he da
nced.

  “We breed ‘em well up here, don’t we?” he said.

  “No kidding… I should come to Maine more often.”

  “You’re welcome any time…” He spoke close to my ear and I melted closer to him as his voice tickled my ears. His voice had a slightly hoarse quality as if he spent a lot of time yelling into the wind.

  I felt his hard length through his jeans when I got close. I was turning him on as much as he turned me on.

  Suddenly I felt another pair of hands slip around my hips from behind. I hadn’t heard Alister approach over the music. I thought he would steal me from Van, and I was shocked when Van let Alister keep his hands there, just above his. They were both touching me and dancing with me at once.

  “Oh…” I made a little sound of surprise. I don’t know why this suddenly took on a dangerous edge. It was just two guys dancing with me, having a good time, and they were childhood friends, obviously comfortable with each other.

  Not a bad kind of dangerous, though. Exciting. Like the first time I ever went to a party with drinks and boys.

  “No need for an odd man out around here,” Alister said. “We can share.”

  “That’s right,” Van said. “Sometimes you might not think so, but we get along very well.”

  “I see that…” I flushed. Were they suggesting a threesome? No way.

  No wonder the reviews of Marchcliff Manor are so good…

  The next song was a romantic ballad. Alister’s hands left my waist and moved to my shoulders instead. He pulled me against his chest. My head fell back against his shoulder while Van kept a hold on my hips and I could still feel his erection straining against his tight jeans. I shut my eyes, swaying slowly back and forth, losing myself in the sensation of being between two beautiful men. Their touch felt so protective, like they could keep me safe from everything that had ever troubled me. I didn’t even register until halfway through the song that it was a really stupid song: cheesy lyrics, guy with an overly earnest and slightly whiny voice. I mean, the 90s had some of the best songs ever, but also some serious duds.