Persuade: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance: Blood Persuasion Book 1

by Wendi Wilson

  “I’m not prejudiced, Honey,” she said, her voice now cajoling. “I just… Roman?”

  She turned to my dad for help. He looked at her for a long moment, like they were having some kind of unspoken conversation. Dad shook his head before looking back at me.

  “We just want you to be safe, Pumpkin,” he said, deflated.

  “What? Do you think they’re going to bite me or something?”

  I couldn’t help it. They were making me mad, so the smartass in me crashed to the surface. They were being cagey and I didn’t like it. We had always had an open and honest relationship. I had a feeling they weren’t being completely truthful this morning.

  “Don’t be sassy,” Mom said, her tone reprimanding. Her face softened. “We’re happy you made some friends, but if you want to hang out with them outside of school, we need to meet them first.”

  I bit my lip. It might have been too late for that. I steeled my spine. It was all a dream, so I didn’t have to lie.

  “Okay. Deal,” I said.

  A light knock sounded at the front door. All three of our heads swiveled in that direction before looking back at each other with confused expressions. It was, like, eight-thirty in the morning on a Saturday.

  “Who on Earth could that be?” Mom asked, voicing the question in my head.

  Dad stood and I jumped from my chair, following behind him to the front door. As I waited for him to turn two deadbolts and throw the security latch, I hopped from foot to foot, nerves wracking my body. I was filled with dread and hope simultaneously. I had a feeling I knew who was on the other side of that door. Why do we have so many damn locks?

  Finally, the door swung inward. There they stood, looking positively delectable in the early morning light. I looked at each of them in turn, my face frozen in fear. How was I supposed to explain this? Did they have no sense of time or propriety?

  “Hello, sir,” Jett said, speaking for the group, as usual. “We’re here to see Savanna.”

  Dad turned and looked at me, suspicion written all over his face. I held up my hands and shrugged, the universal sign for “I had no fricken’ clue they were coming here.” He arched a brow at me before turning back to the triplets.

  “Please, come in,” he said, his southern hospitality trumping anything else he may have been thinking or feeling.

  He walked away, leaving me to show the boys in. “What are you doing here?” I hissed under my breath.

  “We just wanted to hang out,” Beckett said.

  “And finish our conversation from yesterday, at the diner,” Wyatt added.

  I closed the door and leaned back against it, sucking in a ragged breath. Underneath all my denial, I knew the whole episode at the diner wasn’t really a dream. Wyatt bringing it up proved it. My heartrate accelerated and sweat popped out across my nose.

  “Do not mention the diner or any of that conversation in front of my parents. Got it?”

  They barely had time to nod before my dad’s voice called out, “Savanna, please bring your guests in here. We’d like to meet them properly.”

  Oh, God. I sent up a silent prayer, just hoping to survive this encounter. I motioned for them to follow me through the house. My parents were sitting on matching wingback chairs in the formal living room, of all places. It had to be the most uncomfortable, least used room in the whole house. I arched an eyebrow at them as I stepped into the room, the triplets following close behind me.

  “Please, take a seat,” my mother said, indicating the long sofa positioned in front of them.

  The boys followed her instruction, Jett sitting on the edge of the seat, Wyatt plopping down in the middle with his arms stretched wide across the back, and Beckett tucked into the corner. I stopped at the end of the couch next to Jett, opting to stand.

  “Mom, Dad, this is Jett, Wyatt, and Beckett,” I said, pointing out each one. “These are my parents, Angela and Roman James.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. James,” Jett said, his face free of any and all arrogance, for once.

  “Yeah, thanks for inviting us into your home,” Wyatt added, sitting up straight and placing his hands in his lap.

  “It’s a beautiful home,” Beckett added.

  Those three had skills. They could probably teach a course on how to make a good first impression on a girl’s parents. My eyes slid from them to my parents, who didn’t look nearly as impressed as I was. They both looked like they had their guard up.

  “Thank you,” Dad said. “Savanna tells us you’re new to town. Do you have family here?”

  “We came to live with our uncle after our father passed away,” Wyatt said, looking fragile and giving them puppy dog eyes.

  Oh, he’s good, I thought. He looked sad when they told me about their dad yesterday, but this is over the top.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” my mother said.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he replied. “We’re getting by.”

  “Who’s your uncle? Maybe we know him,” Dad asked.

  “Earl Patton,” Jett answered.

  The reaction was miniscule. Anyone who didn’t know my parents wouldn’t have even noticed it. But I knew my parents. And I saw it. Mom flinched, sucking in a tiny breath and Dad’s eyes, the same bright blue as mine, widened for a split second before he regained his composure.

  “Do you know him?” I asked.

  “Not really,” Dad said, avoiding eye contact. “We know who he is, but we don’t really run in the same circles.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t say more, but I would definitely be interrogating these two later. They were hiding something.

  “Okay,” Dad said, standing before helping Mom to her feet, “you kids have fun today.”

  The brothers stood and took turns shaking hands with my parents and telling them it was nice to meet them. After obtaining a promise from me to check in and not be out too late, they left the room without a backward glance. I dropped into one of the vacated chairs.

  “That was way too weird,” I said.

  “They know our uncle,” Beckett said. “Or at least, they know something about him. Something that bothers them.”

  “Yeah,” Wyatt added, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “their heartbeats started galloping when Jett said his name.”

  “You can hear people’s heartbeats?” I asked.

  “We have excellent hearing,” Jett said, but I already knew that.

  “But it’s not that good,” Beckett added, shaking his head. “We can’t hear people’s internal organs functioning.”

  “Then how do you know their hearts were beating faster?” I asked looking back at Wyatt.

  “I noticed the pulse beating on your dad’s neck. When Jett mentioned Uncle Earl, it bulged and started beating really fast. Your mom’s too.”

  I didn’t really want to think about Wyatt zoning in on my dad’s neck vein. Not real vampires. Not real vampires, I chanted in my head.

  I was being stupid, really. Alts didn’t actually bite people. At least, the normal, functioning, sane ones didn’t. There were a few reported cases of Alts attacking people, but every one of those were diagnosed with some sort of mental instability. Schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, things like that. Normal human diseases wreaking havoc on an Alt’s mind and body. These three didn’t fit into that mold.

  Of course, they all claimed to be attracted to me. Maybe they did fit.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Jett said, breaking the awkward silence.

  I stood and motioned them toward the door. “Where do you want to go?” I asked as I grabbed my purse and my phone from the table in the front hall.

  “I know just the place,” Jett answered, opening the front door and motioning for me to precede them out.

  I took a deep breath and released it as I jogged down the front steps. God help me, I decided to trust them. I just hoped I wouldn’t live to regret it.

  Chapter Nine

  “A playground?” I asked as I climbed down fr
om their truck. “A little cliché, don’t you think?”

  “What do you mean?” Beckett asked, slamming the back door of the truck behind him.

  “You know,” I said, gesturing to encompass the park.

  “No, we don’t,” Wyatt said, joining us from the other side of the vehicle.

  “Forget it,” I mumbled.

  If they weren’t going to admit that bringing a girl to a playground on a date, or whatever this was, was a romantic cliché, I wasn’t going to be the one to say it. Of course, I could have been overreacting. Just because they said they all wanted to date me didn’t mean this was a date. There were four of us here, for goodness’ sake. Most definitely not a date.

  I walked to the swing set and slid into the middle of the three swings. Jett took the one to my left, Beckett to my right. Hands grabbed the chains of my swing and pulled me back. I looked over my shoulder to see Wyatt smiling and giving me a push.

  “So, we were talking last night,” Jett said, setting his own swing into motion, “and we think we came up with a plan.”

  “A plan for what?” I asked, totally absorbed in the feeling of flying through the air.

  I was jerked to a halt when Wyatt grabbed the chains of my swing. His chest pressed against my back and his breath tickled my ear as he said, “For you to decide which one of us you want.”

  A shiver ran down my spine, and I scooted off the seat to land on my feet, hoping Wyatt wouldn’t feel it. I twirled around and looked at each of them in turn, so similar yet so different. How could I ever choose? I should just refuse and tell them we can only be friends, I thought.

  “Tell me this plan,” I said, ignoring my rational side.

  Three identical smiles met my stare. Jett and Beckett stood, and the three formed a semicircle around me. My heart threatened to pound out of my chest with excitement and I looked at Wyatt to make sure he wasn’t staring at my neck.

  “We thought you could go out with each of us, separately. Two or three dates each, or however many you need to make an informed decision,” Jett said.

  “You could get to know us each individually, without the other two around to distract you,” Beckett added.

  “And no hanky-panky,” Wyatt added, grinning. “Unless, of course, that’s a deal breaker for you. That rule can always be amended.”

  Jett elbowed him in the gut, hard, causing Wyatt to grunt and double over. “That rule was for us, you ass, not her.”

  “I was just joking,” Wyatt grumbled as he straightened, rubbing his midsection.

  “What do you think?” Beckett asked, ignoring the other two.

  I had no idea what I thought. Going from zero experience with boys to dating three at once sounded…intimidating, to say the least. I didn’t know if I could handle one of them, much less juggle three at once.

  On the other hand, it was quite exciting. I always wondered what it would feel like to be on a real date and there I was, mulling over the prospect of six to nine guaranteed, with the chance to have a boyfriend at the end. How could I pass that up?

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll give it a try.”

  Wyatt let out a loud whoop and grabbed me around the waist. My world spun and tilted on its axis as he lifted me off my feet and swung me around once before setting me back down. Catching my breath, I looked at Jett, who held out a hand to me. I grasped it and he gave it a firm shake, sealing our deal. I turned my eyes to Beckett, who was blushing slightly. From pleasure or embarrassment, I wasn’t sure. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed gently before kissing me on the cheek.

  He pulled away and looked down at his feet. My fingertips touched the spot where his lips had brushed my skin. It burned like fire. From his lips or my own blush, I didn’t know. I wandered over to a stone picnic table and sat down on one of its benches. All three brothers slid onto the seat across the table, seeming to sense that I needed some space.

  “Why me?”

  “What?” Jett asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

  “What is it about me,” I asked, looking at each of their faces in turn, “that spiked your interest? Was it just the persuasion…uh…immunity?” That was the best way I could think of to describe their inability to persuade me. “Was there any other reason?”

  “Any other reason?” Wyatt asked, his eyes skyward. “Is she crazy? She’s crazy, right?” He said, looking to the left and right at each of his brothers.

  “I’m not crazy and I’m not stupid. I want to know,” I said, anger coloring my words.

  I had no delusions about myself. I was too tall and lanky with no curves to speak of. I had a hot temper that made me a pariah without a lot of social skills. I did have a pretty good sense of humor, in my opinion, but most people didn’t get my jokes. In other words, I didn’t have much to offer.

  “You’re funny,” Wyatt said, pulling me from my thoughts. “You’ve made me laugh more in the last couple of days than anyone else, ever.”

  I arched a brow at him, finding that hard to believe since he’s always smiling.

  “You’re smart,” Beckett said in a quiet voice.

  “Not to mention beautiful,” Wyatt added.

  “Now, I know you’re blowing smoke,” I said, shaking my head at him.

  Before he could sputter out a denial, Jett spoke. “You didn’t ask us anything about being an Alt.”

  “What?” I asked, looking at him.

  “At the diner,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, “you could have asked us anything. Those were the rules. Anyone else would have asked us about drinking blood or using persuasion, but not you. Instead, you asked us questions about us, like we’re real people and not some science experiment gone wrong.”

  “You are real people,” I said, my voice hoarse from the lump in my throat.

  Sadness welled in my chest. Despite being beautiful and powerful, these boys were just like me. Alone, treated like freaks for no reason other than the circumstances of their birth. All they had was each other, yet they were willing to accept me into their circle. I vowed to myself right then and there that I would never mess it up. Never come between them.

  “Are y’all sure you’re up for this? I mean, if I pick one of you—”

  “When you pick one of us,” Wyatt said, cutting me off.

  I laughed, despite the seriousness of my question. “Okay, when I pick one of you, how will the other two of you feel? Will you resent the one I choose? Will it cause tension between you? I don’t want to be the cause of any problems.”

  Beckett’s face lit up with a beatific smile. He looked like Wyatt when he did that. “Yet another reason we choose you.”

  At my confused expression, Jett explained, “Most of the girls at school would kill to have three brothers fighting over them. The fallout wouldn’t matter, as long as they got the satisfaction of everyone knowing they were so desirable.”

  I digested his words and realized he was right. Fiona Butler would relish having these three vie for her attention. I heard the words straight from her mouth when I overheard her talking in the bathroom two days ago. She probably wouldn’t choose, dragging it out as long as possible to show everyone how much they wanted her. My stomach churned at the image of them fawning all over her.

  “Still,” I said, pushing the visual out of my head, “I’m sure there are plenty of girls that would be willing to give you a shot. Ones who would get to know you and appreciate you for your personalities, not your DNA.”

  “We don’t want any other girls,” Wyatt said.

  “We want you,” Jett added.

  “Well, well, well. Whadda we have here?”

  I stifled a groan. I knew that voice. The brothers stood, forming an impressive wall with their chests puffed out. I spun, throwing my legs over the bench and standing, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “What do you want, Jonas?” I asked, eyeing him and his two cohorts.

  Jonas Wiggins was our school’s number one athlete. A track star and captain of the basketball team, h
e was popular, rich, and thought he was better than everyone else. His two cronies, Alec and Paul, flanked him on each side.

  “I just wanted to check out the freaks,” Jonas said. Alec and Paul chuckled.

  I heard a low growl behind me, but I didn’t look to see who it was. Keeping my eyes on Jonas, I held up a finger. They must have understood, because they stayed where they were. I arched a brow at Jonas.

  “Who are you calling a freak, crybaby?”

  Jonas flinched before lifting one side of his mouth into a snarl. “That was a long time ago, S-s-s-savanna,” he said, mocking my stutter.

  “Talk about old news,” I said. “Can’t you come up with something new? Or is your brain still damaged?”

  I took a deliberate step forward, balling my fists at my sides. He tried to hide it, but I saw Jonas flinch and take an involuntary step back. I smirked at him, bringing my fist up to rub my knuckles against my chest.

  “Come on, boys. Let’s get away from these freaks,” he said, turning on his heel and stalking away.

  I laughed. “Round one to Savanna James,” I muttered, turning to face the triplets, who had somehow come to stand behind me without my realizing it.

  “What. The hell. Was that?” Wyatt asked, shaking his head in wonder.

  “Oh that?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders. “That was nothing. Just a little reminder for Jonas.”

  “A reminder of what?” Beckett asked.

  My lips curled up. “Of exactly who he’s messing with.”

  “Okay, there’s a story here and I need to hear it. Now,” Wyatt said.

  “I’m sure you guys have noticed that I’m a loner,” I said, waiting for them to acknowledge the fact. “Well, it wasn’t exactly by choice. At least, not at first. When I was in kindergarten, I tried to make friends, even had a couple. But I was really tall, bigger than everyone else and little kids like to pick on people who are different. I didn’t handle it well.”

  “What happened?” Beckett asked.

  “Fiona and Jonas were like two peas in a pod. They joined forces to torture me. They made fun of my name—”