Realms and Rebels: A Paranormal and Fantasy Reverse Harem Collection

by C. M. Stunich

  “Apologies, fair maiden, I didn’t realise you were following me so closely,” Ceb says, turning around. He makes it sound like I wanted to bang into him accidentally on purpose, which of course, I didn’t.

  “I wasn’t following you closely, I couldn’t see where I was going with all the shit and muck flying about,” I argue, feeling indignant.

  “Whatever you say, maiden,” he laughs. The rumble vibrates over my skin, then lowers somewhere else it shouldn’t. I blush and thank the Devil himself it’s so dark down here.

  Ceb reaches out a huge, manly hand and presses his fingertips against my sore cheek. His touch is surprisingly gentle for one so huge.

  “It’s a little bruised already, but you’ll live to see another day…” his voice trails off as he looks over my shoulder at Maro. I’m not sure I like the look that passes between them. But rather than question it, I lean my face into his hand a little. The warmth he emits is pretty comforting actually. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been touched like that, if ever. Ceb’s fingers start to very gently massage my cheek, and the pain is gone almost instantly. Half a minute later his fingers still, but he doesn’t remove them quite yet. I open my eyes, not actually realising I had closed them, and look up at him.

  “Better?”

  More fire colours my cheeks. “Yes, thanks, Ceb,” I whisper, all kinds of snarky remarks gone from my addled brain. I need to get a grip. One touch from a handsome man and I go to pieces. First Maro, now Ceb. This is getting ridiculous. I’m in Hell, not on a eighteen-thirties holiday in Costa sodding Brava.

  “Shall we go inside then?” Maro asks, his voice tight. He pushes past Ceb and I, opening a wooden door I hadn’t noticed until now. He casts me an angry glare over his shoulder before disappearing inside.

  “What’s got his goat?”

  Ceb snatches his hand away and shrugs his shoulders. “Hell if I know.”

  I notice the ground doesn’t rumble when he blasphemes. Just me then. Perhaps it’s a perk of the job? It may well be the only one.

  Standing aside, Ceb allows me to pass, then follows me in. Maro is nowhere to be seen.

  Perhaps he’s gone for a lie-down? He has been looking pretty peaky these last couple levels. I feel a little guilty when I realise that this can’t be much fun for him either. Perhaps I need to ease up on him a bit.

  “You coming in or not?”

  I shake my head free from thoughts of Maro, then realising it looks like I am saying no, nod frantically. Ceb laughs. “You’re a strange creature, do you know that?”

  “Coming from the three-headed man-dog,” I respond with a grumble.

  “Come on, get inside.”

  I squeeze past his bulk, careful not to touch him should I fall into another catatonic state, and step over the threshold.

  “This is where you live?” I ask, astonished. I didn’t even look at the outside of his home, given the ridiculous weather and the fact that everything is so dark and muddy, but the inside isn’t what I expected at all. A warm fire is glowing in a hearth surrounded by large, granite stone.

  The wooden floor is weathered and worn and there is a well used, but comfortable looking sofa in the corner. Opposite is a table and chairs and a kitchen of sorts. The whole place is lit by several candles, giving it a warm, muted glow.

  “Why so surprised?” Ceb asks, as he shuts the front door. He seems to be too large for the space, but fits it so well that it doesn’t feel claustrophobic even with his hugeness.

  “I didn’t expect to see something like this in Hell…”

  Ceb shrugs. “When I’m Cerberus I live outside all the time. When I’m Berus…”

  “Ceb,” I mumble, correcting him.

  “Ceb,” he grins. “When I am Ceb, I live here. It’s tiresome being a three-headed glutton all the time. It’s good to take a break.” He perches on the edge of the table, which groans under his weight, threatening to break.

  “You get breaks in Hell?”

  “Not exactly, but the Devil can’t keep watch of all the circles all of the time, now can he? Why do you think you’ve managed to get so far without being stopped? A fair maiden like you has no business being down here.”

  “She’s not as fair as you might think,” Maro says, walking into the room. I baulk at his comment and am about to respond with something equally cutting when I notice that he has changed into a new pair of clothes; a pair of black jeans, and dark navy top. He looks suspiciously clean, and annoyingly handsome. I wonder if there’s some kind of magic shower room back there, where you can wash and change in less than a minute. Given all the things I’ve seen so far it could be a possibility I’m sure.

  “Oh, I’ve met a fair few ugly souls down here. You…” Ceb starts, then trails off giving me a funny look.

  “Ciera,” Maro offers.

  “Ciera,” Ceb smiles, my name amusing him somehow, “You, Ciera are not an ugly soul. Not as far as this old dog can tell anyway.”

  “Always the flatterer, Berus,” Maro laughs, slapping him on the back. Ceb falls forwards a little.

  “Oy, reign in that angel strength, buddy. I might be the biggest man you’ve ever seen, but I’d like to keep my rib cage intact.”

  Maro just grins even wider. “You can take it. Besides it wasn’t so long ago when you kicked my arse, remember?”

  Ceb frowns. His happy disposition gone suddenly. “That was different, I was younger then and you were… well, you weren’t yourself.”

  Maro tenses. “Oh yeah, forgot about that.”

  I stand, watching their awkward conversation with fascination. Didn’t either of them realise just quite how much juicy information they were giving up? Neither seem to remotely care that I am listening in.

  “Some things are best left forgotten, others not,” Ceb says rather cryptically.

  He claps his hands together rather suddenly which makes me jump. The plates sitting on the kitchen counter rattle.

  “I shall make us something to eat, and you, princess, should go take a shower.”

  Princess? He’s got to be fucking kidding me. First Cookie, now Princess.

  “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name,” I snap.

  “And I’d prefer not to be in Hell, but we can’t all get what we want now can we?” Ceb responds lightly.

  I look at Maro for help, but he just folds his arms over his chest and gets that angry look in his face again. “Fine, call me what you like, but don’t expect me to answer.”

  Ceb winks at me then makes his way into the kitchen and starts pulling jars of food out of the cupboards. I turn to Maro, who is glaring daggers at Ceb’s back.

  “The shower?” I ask, not bothering to form a whole sentence, or caring that I am now being rude.

  “You’ll find everything you need back there,” he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. I walk past them both, grateful at least for a moment alone to gather my thoughts and rid my skin of the stench of Hell.

  The shower is better than I’d hoped and I lean gratefully under the water. I’m not sure how long I stand there, long enough for the water to run cold, anyway. By the time I climb out there is a gentle knock on the door. I wrap a towel around my body, it barely covers my arse but it will have to do. It smells surprisingly fresh as I tuck the edges under my armpits.

  “Come in,” I say, swiping a wet strand of hair out of my face. There wasn’t any shampoo or conditioner (I mean, what did I expect, I’m in bloody Hell) and my hair is still a tangled mess, but at least it’s no longer covered in shit.

  The door opens and Maro leans against the door frame studying me. His face is shadowed with secrets that match my own.

  “Yes?” I ask after the longest time.

  “I came to tell you the food’s ready.” His gaze lowers, lingering on my bare thighs.

  “Okay, I’ll be out in a minute.” I glance at my pile of steaming clothes. I really don’t want to have to put them back on.

  “Here, I have clothes. They should fi
t you.” Maro hands over a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, plus a pair of trainers. All of them are clean and pressed. Don’t tell me dog-man irons?

  I take them from them. “Where did you get these?”

  “Better you don’t know,” he says cryptically. His amber eyes survey me once again and I get the distinct impression he wishes to tell me something but doesn’t know how.

  “Well, if that’s it?” I ask, placing the clothes on the small cabinet. I grab hold of the door and start to close it. Maro doesn’t move. Instead he pushes against it with his hand, preventing me from shutting it.

  “I need to get changed.”

  He shoves open the door, steps inside the bathroom and shuts it behind him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I say. “I need to get changed.” A thread of worry slices through me, followed by a huge dose of, dare I say it, excitement. This will not do at all. “Get out!” I add, although I’m not even convinced I truly want him to leave.

  “I’ve seen a woman naked before,” he chuckles.

  “Not this woman.”

  “You afraid to be alone with me, Ciera?” he steps closer and I smell that natural musk of him. I try not to breathe in too heavily.

  “I’m not afraid of anyone.” I stand my ground, proving my point. I refuse to be intimidated, or turned on.

  “You should be. Berus is my friend, but he is in Hell for a reason, Ciera.”

  “Not Cookie anymore? Have I been demoted in your affections?” I say without thinking.

  Maro’s head snaps up. “You still have my affections. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

  I still have his affections? “I didn’t think you liked me all that much,” I say, unable to stop my inner thoughts becoming outer words.

  Maro sighs. “I think you’re pretty amazing actually, coming here to save your sister despite the great danger you put yourself in. I like your smart mouth, your spunk. I like the way you make me feel. You’re also beautiful.” He gives me a weird lopsided smile.

  “I…” My cheeks burn a bright red from the compliment.

  “You’ve lacked affection your whole life, am I right?” He looks at me with his ridiculous eyes and I find myself nodding in agreement. “Then it’s difficult to know when affection is given because it is heartfelt or because there’s an ulterior motive, especially when that affection comes from creatures schooled in lies and deceit. ”

  Where is all this coming from? Was he under some kind of weird spell or something? He seems sincere enough. Was this about Ceb touching me, flirting with me?

  “I told you I don’t trust anyone, that includes Ceb.”

  “Just be careful who you give your affections to, that’s all I ask.” Maro leans over, his shoulder brushes against mine as he grabs something from the cabinet behind me. I swear to all that is holy, unholy, and inbetween that my heart almost stops.

  “Here, for your hair,” he says, handing me a large wooden comb.

  I take it from him, stupidly grateful for his thoughtfulness. I look up into his handsome face. “Thank you, Maro. Thank you for sticking with me. I don’t think I could have come this far alone. If there were anyone I could eventually trust, it would be you.”

  Maro’s eyes widen and a flicker of something strangely like regret passes over his features.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like I’m your saviour, Ciera, because I’m not,” he says, swiping a hand over his face.

  “I don’t understand. I thought…”

  “I should leave,” Maro twists on his feet and pulls open the bathroom door. For reasons unknown to me, I can’t help but feel utterly confused and desperately sad at the thought he’s just going to leave like that. I let out a long sigh.

  “Oh, fuck it.”

  My head snaps up as Maro strides towards me, cups my head in his hands and crashes his lips against mine. It takes my brain a millisecond to catch up, but when it does I open my mouth to his probing tongue and kiss him back with the same ferocity. Lips clash, tongues battle, and hands roam.

  Holy fuck, damn, shit.

  Maro may look like an angel, but his kisses are full of sin.

  I am so fucked.

  10

  I'm the first to go back to the kitchen, where Ceb is busy making something over the fireplace. It looks like soup in a massive iron pot. He's stirring it diligently, his full concentration is on the food. I hope it's something edible. Not sure what they eat here in Hell, or what giant hellhound man shifters eat in general. Maybe it's mud, the same stuff that's probably still stuck to parts of my hair, even after the shower?

  Now that would be a big let down.

  My stomach growls and announces my presence. Ceb turns and gives me a smile. Are my cheeks flushed? My lips redder than usual? Can he see that I just had the most amazing kiss of my life? Maro ended it far too soon, muttering something about needing a moment to freshen up. I hope he's not thinking that it was a mistake. Even if that stays our one and only kiss, it was worth it. So worth it.

  "Feeling better, fair maiden?" Ceb asks and points at a wooden chair in the corner, apparently wanting me to sit on it. I stay standing, watching him as he continues to stir the soup. His thick muscles move with every twist. It's hypnotising and somewhat endearing to see this massive man cook. It's so entrancing that I completely forget to answer.

  "Everything alright? Do you need something? Water, perhaps? I don't usually have humans here, I'm not quite sure what you need to survive."

  I grin at his sudden blabbing. Is he nervous?

  "Water would be lovely. And aren't all the sinners down here human?"

  He gets up and stretches, his head almost reaching the ceiling. "Yeah, I suppose, but they're not alive, so they don't count."

  He heads over to the sink - I try not to think about how he has plumbing and flowing water in the middle of Hell - and pours me a glass of water. It's slightly murky, but when I hold it to my lips and give it a tentative sniff, it doesn't stink like the rest of this circle. In fact, it's really rather good, and I empty the glass in one go.

  "More?" he asks and takes the glass before I can respond. "Do humans need a lot of watering?"

  "First, don't call it watering, I'm not a plant. Second, am I the first human you've ever met?"

  He hands me the glass back, now filled again. "Is it that obvious?"

  I shrug. "Kind of. Does that mean the people... the sinners don't need any food and drink?"

  A chuckle behind me makes me turn around. "They're dead, Cookie," Maro says with a grin. "They don't sleep either, in case that was your next question."

  While I can still feel my lips tingle from our heated kiss and I'm sure that they're bright red, Maro looks just like he did before. Maybe his golden skin doesn't flush?

  "What are you making?" he asks, pointing at whatever is simmering in the pot.

  Ceb grins proudly. "My famous fireroot soup. A delicacy that you can only get in the third circle. I think it should be palatable for humans."

  "Should?" I raise an eyebrow, not quite reassured by Maro's doubtful expression.

  Ceb just shrugs. "I don't know of any human who's ever tried it, so we'll find out. It's rather spicy, but I like that. It makes the flames within me burn brighter."

  I'm not sure if that's a metaphor or if he's actually got fire in him. Who knows what's beneath a hellhound's skin.

  He pulls some earthen bowls out of his small cupboard - again, I'm surprised how well equipped he is - and begins to ladle soup into them. When he hands me my bowl, steam reaches my eyes and they immediately begin to water both from the heat and the intensity of the smell filling the air. It smells rank and not at all like something I'd ever want to eat.

  Ceb is looking at me expectantly though, so I hesitantly lift a spoon full of the reeking soup to my mouth, trying to suppress a gag. Am I really about to eat something that was cooked by a hellhound? My life has become crazy.

  The first sip burns my mouth, the second cools it pleasantl
y, the third makes my stomach growl.

  "This is amazing," I say in astonishment, already filling the spoon again. Once you get past the smell, this might be one of the most delicious things I've ever eaten. Who would have thought?

  Ceb grins proudly. "After the first few mouthfuls, you don't notice the scent anymore."

  He's right, I'm already not fussed by the stink any longer. I empty my bowl in record time and give it to Ceb for a top up. It's only when he hands it back to me, that I notice that both men haven't even started eating yet, but are staring at me instead.

  "What?"

  Maro is examining me like a curious specimen. "Just watching if there are any side effects. You're the first human ever to eat this. We should make notes just in case your body isn't able to cope with it."

  I glower at him. "Excuse me? Are you using me as a lab rat?"

  "No, as a lab human. Almost the same thing."

  I'm tempted to throw my spoon at him, but that would be a waste. I ignore him and continue eating. The soup is making my skin flushed and my mouth hot, but I don't mind that. Besides, it's food. I hadn't realised how hungry I was.

  "More." I hold out my bowl for the second time. Ceb raises an eyebrow but refills it.

  "Do all humans eat this much?" he asks Maro, as if I'm not even in the room. Or as if I'm a pet. They're not going to get away with that. This time, I really throw my spoon. It lands on Ceb's biceps, leaving a trace of red soup on his skin. He doesn't even turn around, as if he didn't realise he got hit by a spoon. Are his muscles that thick?

  "Humans eat that much when they're very hungry," I tell him sternly. "And I've not had food in a long time."

  He nods as if that's new information for him and carelessly dumps my spoon back into my bowl. "How often do you need to eat? Every few days?"

  I sigh. This really is a completely different world. "Most people have at least three meals a day," I explain.

  Maro picks up on what I didn't quite say. "And you? How many meals do you have?"

  I shrug. "One, two, depending on whether I can get enough food for us. I always make sure my sister gets enough though."