by L. A. Long
Snow Rises:
A Reverse Harem Series
(Angels of Shadows Book 1)
By
L. A. Long
Copyright ©2018 by L. A. Long
This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are fiction. Any similarity to any real persons, characters, events or incidents is entirely coincidental. All Rights Reserved.
Any trademarks, service marks, or product names are assumed to be property of their respective owners. No endorsement is implied.
Snow Rises:
My name’s Cassandra (Caz). At least that’s the name I’m going by this month. I’ve just aged out of the foster care system. I have no money. No memories. No future. No past. I was chased by an angel and a reaper who said I belong to them - they have my soul. I thought I was crazy until a demon and a warlock captured me and claimed I’m one of them. They say I don’t need a soul. I thought I was fearless. Didn’t know I was soulless. Now, I’m caught in the middle of an ancient war between good and evil, angels and demons, and both sides believe I was promised to them long ago. Am I even human? I don’t know who to trust. I don’t even know if I can trust myself.
A Reverse Harem Romance/ Paranormal Urban Fantasy
** Mature Content: Language/Sexual Situations; Recommended for 17+**
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Rivers Fall
Also by L. A. Long
Chapter 1
He’s the typical psycho rapist murdering type. Angry, disheveled, dirty, strung out. His smirk should be catalogued. Why do I attract the violent fuckwads?
I lower my head and narrow my eyes. “Before you tell me your sadistic fantasy of everything you’re going to do to me … take a minute. Rethink it.”
He flinches, but his confidence surges when he takes a dirty knife from his back pocket and shows it to me like he’s proposing.
I don’t cower. “Dude, I know there are psychopaths who can pick out the perfect victim, and it all goes their way.” I wait for a few seconds thinking he’ll change his mind. He doesn’t. “I am not that victim, and you are not that psychopath.”
He rushes at me. I knew he would. They all do. I lunge out of the way at the perfect second, and he flips himself over the edge of the roof.
“Dumbass.” Since we’re on the fourteenth floor, I’m assuming I don’t need to look over the edge.
Who are they? Who am I? I don’t remember my name. My real name anyway. I have no home. No family. My first real memory was someone handing me an envelope of cash. She said she was my social worker. Told me I had to stop running away because my problems will always find me. That was terrifying. I get it, but it mindfucked me.
That was a month ago. She used the phrase ‘aged out’ of the system. Aged out? I looked it up. Means I’m eighteen.
I used up the last of the cash this morning. No matter where I go, there’s someone following me. They usually stay in the shadows, but they always show up.
“That was your fourth this week,” a voice says.
I study them. Two guys. I finally get a good look at them. Can’t believe I ran from them last week. Neither look like they could harm a piece of lint. Can’t be much older than I’m supposed to be. Same height. One’s blonde. One’s brown haired. The definition clean cut comes to mind. Also, harmless. Nice guys. Limp dicks. I do realize my heart is beating faster. Always does when I know they’re around.
The dark haired one holds his arms out as if he welcomes my inspection. “Do you approve of us?”
I stare at him without a hint of emotion or expression.
The blonde glances at the other one and laughs. “She’s definitely like I remember.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Must you use that language around us?” the brown haired one asks.
The blonde one holds his hands up as if that would calm me. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
They must not know who they’re dealing with. “Don’t want to get your blood on my jeans.” I look down at my faded blues. “These are my favorite pair, and it’s a bitch to get the stains out.”
“You’ve had them three weeks.” The dark haired one smirks. “And angels don’t bleed.”
“Fuck me.” That’s new. “Angels?” I’ve been chased by many, but never anyone claiming to be an angel. I look over the blonde one, every perfect part of him. “You an angel too?”
“Reaper. I’m Syn,” he says. “The angel is Ren.”
“Syn? Seriously?”
“It was a nickname from my early days.” The reaper shrugs like there’s so much more to that story.
I don’t get a read on them, and I can read anyone ever since I can remember. And that’s been a whopping month now. So, I think I know myself pretty well. I crack myself up. Can’t help it. When you have no one else to talk to, it’s easy to be your own BFF or your own worst enemy. “Why are you chasing me?”
The brown haired angel steps closer. “Why do you think we’re chasing you?”
Great, they’ve obviously read their share of shrink books.
Someone screams down the alley.
The reaper glances at the angel. “They’re here.”
Ren steps closer to me. “Cassandra.”
I step back. “No one knows I call myself that. Never told anyone.”
“You’d have to talk to someone to confide in them.” The reaper steps even closer. “We’re not just anyone.”
There’s a flash in the air, and I could swear the angel dude has actual angel wings.
“Fuck. Merde. What the scheisse was that?”
The reaper laughs. “You still swear in all languages.”
There’s more screaming and a skirmish in the alley below us.
“Syn, grab her now before—”
“Before what?” someone else says.
Behind the angel and reaper are two other guys. Another blonde and dark haired combo that look my age.
The dark haired one is wearing a shiny black suit without a shirt so his naked chest peeks out and taunts me. His blue eyes mesmerize. “Keep it together,” I whisper to myself.
He saunters towards me, and my legs almost buckle in his presence. Why is my body getting ready for him in ways my mind can’t contemplate? If I could tell myself to fuck off, I would.
“I’m Makus,” he says. The leer he gives me makes me think he’s thirty seconds away from banging me against the fire escape - or at least trying before I killed him.
He grins like he’s used to everyone eye screwing him. “I’ve never had to force you.”
“Never had to? Like that would have been an option?”
He shakes his head. “Never. You know me. I punish, but you find the mixture of pleasure and pain exquisite, and I’d never do anything you didn’t want.”
I hold up my hand before he dives further into creepersville. “Dude, would you hurry up and just fuck off already?”
He winks at me. Yep, the asshole actually winks at me.
“You an angel, too?”
He laughs so hard I thin
k he’s going to piss himself. “Would you describe me as an angel, Ren?”
Ren grimaces. “He was forged in the depths of hell.”
I wait for them to explain. “Is that a euphemism for a specific city?”
“He’s a demon and an abomination,” the angel spits out.
“Nice to see you too, Ren.” The demon winks at me. Again.
Before I know it, the demon’s side kick is behind me. He holds out his hand to me. “Are you ready, beautiful?”
“Beautiful?” I step back from him. “Dude, you all need to seriously and immediately fuck off. Compliments will only piss me off.”
“I remember.” He laughs. “I’m Sebastian.”
“Bast,” I whisper.
He runs his fingers through his hair. It’s short on the sides and longer on top. “Faux hawk. You were right, Caz, it’s bad ass.”
I step away from all of them. “How do you know me?”
He pulls up his jacket sleeve. “See this?” He shows me a tattoo of a spiral. “Sacred geometry. That’s what you said it was when we got them.”
I look at my own arm with the same symbol. “Fibonacci’s spiral. Fuck. Scheisse. Merde. Shit. Mierda.” I close my eyes. I don’t remember them. “I don’t remember anything.”
“You don’t have to remember us,” Bast says.
Bast. Another gorgeous one. Dangerous. Tempting.
He grins at me as if he can read my mind.
Makus steps beside Bast. “You always did have a soft spot for the warlock.”
“Warlock?”
Bast nods. “You belong to us.”
My breathing stops.
“I apologize,” Bast says. “I meant you belong to us just like we belong to you. We’re part of each other.”
“I take your kidney or something?”
The angel steps forward. “She is ours.”
“Another one of you ass wipes say I belong to you, and you’ll wake up in the hospital on a slow drip.”
Makus grabs his heart. “How I’ve missed you, Caz.”
The warlock continues to study me. His green eyes are so familiar. I close my eyes and see him. All two hundred and forty pounds of muscle. My fingers shake as they glide across his skin. I shudder as his tongue slips inside. I shake my head to stop the images and open my eyes. “Wow. That was intense.”
“We have your soul,” the reaper says quickly, like it’s a game changer.
“You don’t need a soul to be with us,” Bast says.
Before I know it, I back up until I’m standing at the edge of the roof.
I glance down at the alley below. I have no choice and jump.
Chapter 2
I wake up with a start. “Demons. Angels. Warlocks. Reapers.” It’s the same dream I’ve had every night for the past two weeks. I can’t be sure if it’s a dream or a memory. I jump up and stare at myself in the broken mirror. Can’t be choosy when you have to crash in abandoned buildings.
I stare at my hair. Long dark blonde on one side and shaved on the other. I look down at my tattoos and touch the one that matches the warlock’s. “Who are you?”
I stare into my eyes. The heavy eyeliner makes my light eyes almost appear white. They’re not hollow but ripe, full of memories I can’t remember. From my expression, I didn’t grow up in a cookie cutter world but carved out my existence with blood and tears. Perhaps mine. Perhaps others.
I feel my heart. Why is it that no matter if I’m running or waking from a nightmare, my heart never beats too fast. Not unless they’re around.
I stare at my reflection. “Weird not to even recognize yourself. Do I have a soul? Can you feel a soul?”
There’s a noise down the hall. I grab my backpack and glance around quickly. I never leave any trace of myself behind. Collapsed cardboard boxes for my bed. Backpack for my pillow. “I bet they couldn’t even find a fingerprint of me here.”
Pleased with myself, I step to the door and listen. It’s quiet. I open the door, but three guys push in.
I back up. Unfortunately, they’re easy to read. Leeches. Always eager to prey upon the fringes of society. Think we won’t call the cops or make trouble. Well, they’re half right.
I throw my backpack in the corner behind me and roll up my sleeves. It’s easier to get blood off skin than clothes.
Leech One has to do the obvious slow stare from my boots to my face. Of course he detours along certain parts as he licks his lips.
I sigh. “So fucking predictable.”
He leans in close. “What’d you say, sweetheart?”
Leech Two isn’t so pleasant. He curls his upper lip and growls.
“Cool.”
Leech Three leans against the door. “What do you have in the backpack?”
“The usual. Black market tampons and shit.”
They snicker.
Leech One steps closer. “Some mouth on you. How’d you like to use it to—”
I hold up my hand. “No matter what you say, I won’t shiver or shudder or do that ugly cry while I freeze in terror.”
Their grins slowly fade. I know what comes next.
I lower my head and narrow my eyes. They’re my prey, and they don’t even know it. I can read their thoughts. Violence. Degradation. Pain. Begging. I laugh. “You don’t look like the begging types.”
Their eyes widen. It’s always a timing issue. Timed right, I can avoid them, but I have to watch their expressions. They always have a tell between flipping through all their scenarios and choosing the one they’ll try to act out.
If I get distracted, I could get an elbow in the ribs or a fist in my face. Neither of which is pleasant.
Leech One will act first. He’s the leader. His heart starts to beat faster. He thinks he’s reading me. He isn’t. If he could read me, he’d be on his knees begging to live.
He flinches and lunges for me. I duck out of the way in time like they’re in slow motion. It’s been that way since I can remember. Like I said, a month now. I duck this way and that, and they can’t understand why they can’t hit me. Why I’m faster than they are.
Leech Two tries to grab me from behind. I slip out of his grasp, and he ends up grabbing Leech One. Classic dance.
I spot my backpack. Have to grab and go. This is getting old.
I look back at Leech One. His gaze tells me which direction he’s going to go next so I duck out of his grasp and grab my backpack. One more misdirected lunge, and I’ll be out the door.
I peep at Leech Three who is still at the door with wide eyes. He’s propelled forward when the door busts open.
The demon and warlock stand there.
Bast smiles. “Hey, beautiful. Having fun with the local wildlife?”
The demon pushes Leech Two away when he tries to hit him. Leech Two hits the wall and makes a dent in the plaster.
Makus shakes his finger at him. “Naughty.”
“You weren’t a dream, were you?”
Bast smiles. “Dreaming about us, Caz? Was I on top this time? Or was it like that time on the kitchen counter? That was hot.”
“I preferred the bathtub.” Makus closes his eyes and smiles at the memory. “That was hot.”
Leech One tries to escape, but Bast shoves him back. “Remember when we had that RV?”
Makus nods. “There’s a lot of nooks and crannies in those.” He grins. “I think we found each one.”
I cringe. “Was I like a porn star or something?”
Bast laughs. “No.”
Makus picks up Leech Three and holds him about two feet above the ground. He studies him and then drops him. Leech Three immediately turns to dust and then disappears. “That one had no soul.”
I blink several times and pinch myself. “I’m really not dreaming, am I?”
Bast notices my backpack. “Yours?”
I nod.
He holds his hand out. “May I?”
I hand it to him.
He unzips it and rifles through it. “I knew it!” He brings out
a candy bar and some chips. “You always have the best snacks.” He rips open the chocolate and then hesitates as he looks at me. “You mind?”
I motion for him to knock himself out.
Leech Two starts screaming.
Makus covers his ears and snaps his fingers.
Leech Two sits there with tears streaming down his face and his mouth still wide open. No sound emerges.
“Cool trick,” I say. “He still screaming?”
Makus nods. “Oh, yeah.”
I look the leech over. They never look so tough with tears. “Does he have a soul?”
Makus glances at him. “Uh huh.”
“But I don’t?”
“No. The angel and reaper took it. Thinks that will make you go back to them.”
I flinch. “So I was with them?”
Bast nods as he finishes the candy bar and chips and folds the wrappers on top of each other until they’re in a tiny fold. He gingerly puts everything back in my backpack. “You taught me never to leave a trace behind.”
Leech One jumps up and makes a run for the door. When Makus blocks him, he turns around and throws himself out the window.
I shake my head. “Dumbass.”
Bast glances at Makus, and they both laugh.
“You still call them dumbasses when they kill themselves.”
I frown. “Why can’t I remember?”
“The angel and reaper took your memories too.” Makus walks to me and gingerly touches my face.
My heart pounds so fast it’s a wonder it doesn’t snap in two. “You have the most beautiful blue eyes.”
He smiles. “I know.”
I look him over. He’s perfect. Short cropped dark hair, the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, a confident grin that would make anyone want to drop their panties. “How can you look like that and be a demon?”
He laughs.
“Let me guess, I’ve asked that before?”
Makus nods as he grins. “Every time.”
He’s mesmerizing. Why am I not afraid of either of them? It feels like I’ve known them forever. “So, what’s your usual answer to that question.”