Realms and Rebels: A Paranormal and Fantasy Reverse Harem Collection

by C. M. Stunich

  “Show off,” she accused.

  I palmed her cheek, rubbing my thumb across that scar she hated so much. Her skin felt rough, not as soft as the other cheek, but I didn’t mind. I had always liked Fi for both her sweet side and her rough side.

  “You don’t realize how beautiful you are, do you?” I asked, my voice low.

  Some dark thought chased the light from those luminous blue eyes of hers. She stepped back out of my arms and walked down the hall, a distinct swagger to her curvaceous hips. I thought I was still invited to follow her, even though daring to call her beautiful had thrown up some wall between the two of us.

  She looked over her shoulder at me, stopping in the doorway to her bedroom. “We shouldn’t waste tonight.”

  “It doesn’t just have to be tonight,” I repeated Hayes’ words.

  Her lips turned up, sadly, but she crooked a finger at me and gestured for me to come. Why the hell did she look so sad? Hayes and I agreed it was not our place to break the lie she’d built around her brand-new face, but she could choose to at any time.

  Yeah, we were always on the move—because the bad things in the night were always on the move—but I went nine years without Fi. I’d rather have her just-sometimes than have someone else all the time.

  She knew who we were. I didn’t understand her game. But I promised Hayes I wouldn’t go full Case like he put it. He didn’t think I should tell her what she should do.

  Even though it seemed pretty fucking obvious to me.

  She turned and sashayed into the bedroom.

  I followed. Of course I did.

  I’d always follow her.

  8

  Fiona

  I didn’t look back, but I heard the soft click of the latch as Case pushed the door closed. I reached over my shoulder to pull down the zipper on my cocktail dress, then grabbed a handful of the low-cut neckline and pulled it up so I could finish unzipping.

  “Let me do that,” he said, moving across the room to me. I didn’t need his help, though; I’d become an expert at taking off my clothes single-handedly, even with zippers in the back.

  And yet, I folded my hands together in front of me. As he unzipped my dress, his fingers skated down my lower back. He stepped in toward me, his cock pressing against the curve of my ass, and drew the dress down my shoulders.

  “Is your friend going to be jealous?” I didn’t know why I was pushing him away at the same time I tried to pull him in. It made no sense. I’d said I would take this one night for every orgasm it had to offer, but I couldn’t shut up.

  “Nah.” He gathered my hair into a ponytail, his rough hands gentle, and pulled the thick ribbon of my hair to one side. He kissed my shoulder. “We used to both like the same girl, once upon a time. Our dad told us, never let a girl come between you. He moved us right on out of there, on to the next bad thing to hunt.”

  “Yeah?” I leaned back into his touch, and his fingers skated up my side, sparks flying in their wake. “Tell me about it.”

  “All right. It was a wendigo, actually.” His fingers traced over my arm, arousing more lust than a hand on my elbow ever should. His fingers glided across my shoulder to my bra strap, and then he tugged it away from my skin, sliding it down my arm. He kissed the spot where my bra strap used to be. “Do you know anything about wendigos?”

  I meant, tell me about the girl. Tell me about how you didn’t want to leave her. But I was about to give too much away.

  I twisted in his arms to face him. Case’s deep brown eyes were on mine, and there was a mischievous quirk to that hard-lined mouth of his. His cheekbones were sharp, his face tanned and ruddy, but it was that cheeky smile that always did me in.

  “Anyway,” he said, running a finger under my other bra strap, “my brother and I knew we should never let a girl come between us. And we realized we didn’t have to. All we had to do was learn to share.”

  “Sounds like a recipe for trouble,” I said.

  His smile widened slightly. “Hunters are trouble.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” I tugged at the hem of his t-shirt. “It hardly seems fair that my underwear is barely hanging on and you’re still fully dressed.”

  He stared at me, shock written across his face, and I stared back at him, wondering if I’d somehow missed something.

  “You mean you don’t want to talk about wendigos?” he asked.

  Just when he’d stared long enough for me to think maybe I’d misread and to feel the first flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck, he cracked a grin.

  “You are such a jackass.” I smacked his broad chest with the palm of my hand. Not hard. Just… familiarly. My palm stung slightly, though, because that man’s chest was rock-hard.

  He caught my wrist and pulled it up to his face. His eyes were still intent on mine as he kissed my palm. Then, he pressed his lips to the inside of my wrist. I flushed hot at the tender movement of his lips against all these small erogenous zones.

  “Your jackass, though,” he said, his voice low and rough. “For tonight.”

  There was something in that I couldn’t quite read, but the flicker of feeling in his face was replaced by a playful smile, and he pushed my shoulders. I let myself fall onto the foot of the bed.

  He took the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up slowly, revealing hard-chiseled abs inch by inch. Across his flat lower abs, just above the waistband of his jeans, was the beginning of a dark brown happy trail that called my fingers to trace it. Then he revealed another inch: the distinct angle of his abs, the indentations of his hip bones that invited my hands to hook around those lean hips. Another inch of chiseled abs. His waist was narrow, boyish. He pulled the shirt up high enough to expose the width of his chest and his muscular pecs. I shook my head at him, smiling at the way he was taking his time, but I couldn’t hide the effect he had on me.

  Tattoos ran across his upper pecs—mystical runes rendered in tight, black lines. His chest was tan and something metallic flashed from his nipple. Curious, I bounded from the bed and reached out to touch it.

  One corner of his mouth quirked up. “You can tell I left the Marines behind.”

  I ran my thumb over the silver barbell through one nipple. “Do you have any other piercings?”

  “That would be telling,” he said.

  He pulled his shirt the rest of the way over his head, and when it hung briefly on his broad shoulders, I leaned forward and ran my mouth over his nipple, flicking the barbell with my tongue.

  There was a faint catch of his breath, visible in the rise of his chest, and I ran my hand down the hard muscles of his side, which tightened under my fingertips.

  He pulled the shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it over his shoulder.

  “I’m glad you’re as careless about your clothes as you are about my underwear,” I said, thinking of how he’d thrown my undies on top of my desk earlier.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet,” he growled playfully, pressing his forehead to mine—just for a second. His thumb skated under the edge of my panties, and then he pulled them toward him. My hips bumped against his, and I felt his rock-hard cock through his jeans. He yanked at my panties like he didn’t care if he tore them off me.

  I took his broad shoulders in my hands, feeling the power of his muscles under my palms, and shoved him down onto the bed. He let me push him, falling dramatically across the bed.

  He lay back on his elbows, watching me as I stepped out of my panties and left them on the floor. I wanted to unclasp my bra sexily, but there was only one way to get it off by myself; I had to stop and twist the band to unclasp it.

  “I could have helped with that,” he said as I dropped the bra to the floor.

  “I don’t trust you with textiles,” I told him.

  He winked at me. “But I promise, you can trust me with anything except your panties.”

  The thing that killed me was that I did trust him. I knew I shouldn’t trust him as if we were still intimately acquainted, just because
I gave him my V-card when we were sixteen.

  I kept getting wrapped up in my feelings when I just wanted to be wrapped up in his arms. Christ. I climbed onto the bed, straddling him. His jeans were rough against my inner thighs. I was already hot with desire, and the feel of his legs between my thighs rubbed against my heated core. He wore a dark brown leather belt with a brass, oval-shaped buckle, and it took me a second to figure out how to release the buckle. He watched me with amused eyes as I yanked his belt open and leaned forward to undo his button and zipper.

  “I got that belt in Texas,” he said. “We had this mummy situation at a museum—”

  “No small talk!” I grabbed the waist of his jeans and yanked down. I couldn’t take it; I couldn’t take my own feelings or the hints into his life beyond today. The life where he kept on moving along. Where he’d never be mine.

  His eyes clouded. Shit. I’d hurt Case’s feelings, not that he’d ever admit to having feelings.

  I leaned down to take his cock into my mouth—I could make this misstep up to him without apologizing—but he leaned forward and caught me. His hard grip circled my biceps. He pulled me on top of him, my breasts against his pecs, and kissed me hard.

  His hands wrapped around my hips. I felt his cock tease between my thighs, sliding easily because I was so damn wet for him. I couldn’t help showing my feelings there, at least.

  “Do you have a condom?” He released my hip with one hand, and his fingers moved to slide across my thigh until he delved into that slick wetness, teasing against my clit.

  I paused, pulling a face. He reached across the bed for his jeans and dragged them over to fish a condom out of his pocket.

  “Really?” I asked. “You keep one in your wallet?”

  He didn’t bother to answer. He kept on teasing me, his fingers moving steadily, stroking the building heat. His fingers were merciless and I could barely focus enough to rip open the condom package.

  I eased back over his legs, but his fingers followed, still drawing circles that made my back arch, that made me grind down in desire. I bit down on my lower lip, trying to hold myself together, as I rolled the condom down over his straight, smooth cock.

  His thumb rolled around my clit one last time and then he wrapped his hand around my hip again. Cool air touched my core, which now felt swollen with desire.

  He rolled his hips up, his tip brushing across my inner thighs, and it made me sigh. His lips quirked up, but he said nothing, for once. I reached down and grabbed him firmly in my hand. When I sank onto him, I felt the gentle stretch of his cock filling me up me until my inner thighs pressed against his rock-hard abs.

  I was on top, but that didn’t mean Case was ceding control. His fingers pressed into my ass cheeks, so hard and hot that I could feel each individual finger. Those big hands pulled me up and down his cock, and I rose onto my knees, following his lead. I rode him up and down, his hands stabilizing me the whole time. Each time, his cock pressed against my g-spot on his way in before he slid all the way home. When I reached the base of his broad cock, my clit pushed against his hard lower abs.

  My orgasm built, my core tightening around his cock so hard I found that sweet edge between pleasure and pain. His fingers dug into my ass like he was close too. He bit down on his lower lip, holding back, but he didn’t have to wait for my sake.

  Unable to bear it anymore, I leaned back. My core tightened and shuddered around his cock. I grabbed his thighs in my hands, holding myself steady as my orgasm rolled in hot waves through my body. His hands tightened around my hips as he let himself come too.

  I fell forward, nestling my head under his hard-lined jaw, letting myself rest on his tattooed chest. His arms closed around me automatically, his cock still buried deep inside me.

  “That was nice,” I said softly, but it was a ridiculous understatement.

  He’d been breathing faster, but now he exhaled slowly, letting the moment slide away. He ran his thumb over my lips, the gesture fond, before pausing at the corner of my mouth.

  Then he said, “Shh. No small talk.”

  I glanced up at him quickly, but the faint up quirk at the corners of his lips told me it was all mischief, not hurt or anger. His eyes closed, his dark lashes resting against the hard angles of his cheekbones. There were faint freckles across his cheeks, and I remembered how they looked on a summer day when we were young, lying in the grass, playing three truths or a lie. Those freckles were more vivid then. Even though we’d done all kinds of dirty things together, we’d still been innocent in all the ways that mattered—not yet drawn into the darkness of the world, still naïve and believing when it came to love.

  “Sorry,” I said softly.

  He didn’t answer. He just reached to one side, his hand groping to find the blankets then yanking them across both of us. I knew I should get up, we should both get cleaned up. Instead, I lay there, cuddled on his chest, his cock deep inside me, feeling warm and languid. His breathing slowed as we cuddled. I rose and fell slightly on his smooth chest, finding myself lulled as my breathing matched his.

  I fell asleep, and that must have been why I dreamed. In the half-state between sleep and wakefulness, I heard him murmur, “Don’t be sorry, Fi. I’ve missed you.”

  The words dragged me out of sleep. I opened my eyes fast. His breathing was slow, his face still. I stared up at his chiseled jaw, but he’d fallen asleep.

  I dreamt that. I knew I did.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing it could be true.

  9

  Fiona

  I woke up cold. I stirred slightly, reaching out for someone who wasn’t there anymore.

  Case stood next to the bed, yanking his jeans on. He left his belt unbuckled as he grabbed his t-shirt, pulling it on over his head, his muscles working. “Nick sent out a distress call.”

  I scrambled up in bed, sleepiness and lust both forgotten in a second, and then yanked the sheet up automatically to cover my naked breasts. Hayes and Nick were in trouble. My mother must have found them.

  I threw the sheet away and jumped out of bed, rushing to open my dresser drawers. I pulled on undies, then jeans.

  “You stay here,” he said gruffly. “Stay safe.”

  Oh, there was that rough alpha voice I remembered—and never much liked.

  “I’m going. The witch has Hayes and Nick?”

  “Yeah.” He propped his foot up on the edge of my bed to lace up his boot before tucking his knife against his ankle. “Nick used his magic to reach out. She doesn’t realize he’s something different from a regular Hunter. We’re betting that she plans to lure me in so she can end all three of us, everyone who knows what she’s up to.”

  “Then why do you think I’m going to be safe here?” I glanced at him over my shoulder, shaking out a folded t-shirt to pull over my head.

  “I know you’re a witch too,” he said. “You shelter up here. I’ll come back when it’s safe.”

  “Because I’m a witch, you need me.”

  He slung on his shoulder holster and headed for the door. Over his shoulder, he threw, “Don’t need to put yourself in danger. You don’t even know us.”

  I grabbed my shoes from the rack inside my closet and ran after him. “Case, wait. Wait!”

  He swung around in the hall, turning to face me. “What? I’m kind of in a hurry here.”

  His gaze was a challenge. It was hard to spit out the secret I’d kept, but I had seconds to convince him to bring me. I couldn’t leave Case to fight alone. My mother could kill them all.

  “I’m Fiona. It’s Fiona.” I touched my cheek, my fingertips trembling. “I know you can’t tell. I had to change my face. But you know me, and I know you, and I can’t just let you walk out of my life and get hurt.”

  Case stared back at me. His brows drew together, as if he was surprised by the monologue, but it wasn’t a mask of horror at my deception.

  He shrugged one broad shoulder. “All right. If it’s that important to you.”

  When
he turned and walked away, his t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, drawn tightly to his body by the leather harness of his holster. I stared at him for a second, perplexed by his easy acceptance. Then I shook my head and got moving. Hayes and Nick were counting on us.

  The two of us swept through the house, gathering weapons. I was still reeling that he’d heard my confession and seemed so unmoved, so unsurprised, but there was no time to get lost in feelings. I grabbed the keys off the kitchen counter.

  “Hayes and Nick are in trouble,” I told Agnes.

  She ran to the front door and paced back and forth until we were ready to go. Then the three of us piled into the pick-up truck. I put it into reverse and backed out fast onto the road.

  When his phone rang, Case dug it out of his jeans pocket and touched his finger quickly to his lips. “It’s your mother.”

  On his phone’s screen was a photo of Hayes in a baseball cap, with his head down. He was leaning with his arm on the top of a car, his chiseled biceps in sharp relief. Typical Hayes; he wouldn’t smile in a photo for anyone.

  Case answered with a fine bit of acting, sounding completely nonchalant. “What’s up?”

  “If you want your brother to live, come to 48 Highrock.” It was my mother’s voice. Cold and clear. It sent a shiver down my spine.

  Case tried to ask a question, but she’d already hung up. He checked that the line was cut then dropped the phone into the caddy between our seats.

  “That’s not far,” I said. “Maybe they followed her to her old lab…”

  “Let’s go.” He slapped the dash and then leaned back; there was tension in the way he held himself, even though he propped his elbow against the door.

  “What’s the plan?” I asked him.

  “Well.” His lips quirked up slightly. “I figured I’d go in, like she expects. Guns blazing.”

  “That’s it?” I asked. “That’s a terrible plan.”