The Nine: An Urban Fantasy Reverse Harem Romance (Foxfire Burning Book 1)

by C. M. Stunich

  "This problem, the inability to shift and the resulting madness … it started with a kitsune. A very old, very powerful kitsune. I’ve been employed by a much higher being than you to find out what’s caused it and create a cure. Unfortunately, as the saying goes, you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs." Nix’s gaze was clear and totally unapologetic, and I felt a shiver of prophecy roll through me, leaving that distinctive metallic taste on my tongue. Something told me things would get a lot worse before they got better.

  "That's cold," I murmured, then paused as Shelbi came back to deliver my caprese salad and Nix's steak tartare. Of course the mass murderer ate raw meat. Not that I could really talk, given all shifters did the same in animal form … but it was noteworthy nonetheless.

  "So do we have a deal, Thea?" he prompted, and I glared back at him while chewing a mouthful of tomatoes, basil, and buffalo mozzarella. Yum. That shit was fucking boss.

  "I'll think about it," I replied eventually, and he huffed a laugh.

  "You mean you'll ask Mikhail for his opinion first? This offer, and the situation surrounding it, have nothing to do with my history with Mr. Ravena. Our issues … come from a distinctly more personal nature," Nix said before pausing to eat a dainty, genteel bite of his food. The man ate like he was a courtier in medieval England or some shit.

  "Oh? Why don't you tell me more about that?" Okay, I'll admit I was just curious as hell to know what the deal was with these two. They were definitely familiar, and the way they talked about one another hinted that they'd once been close.

  Nix gave me a smug, little half-smile as he ate. "You just want gossip on your boss."

  "So?" I shrugged. "If you weren’t interested in spilling a little tea”—drag queen slang for spreading gossip, thanks Chris—"then you wouldn’t have brought it up in the first place.”

  "I'll tell you if you tell me how old you are," Nix replied, looking shrewd. "And I'll know if you lie." He gave me a long, slow wink after he said that, and I felt my body flush with heat.

  I considered his proposal for a second, then shrugged. At some point, someone—Mikhail or me or even Bex—would be assigned to take Nix out, after RADOPA either got the information they wanted from or about him … or he pissed them off so much they no longer cared to find out. So what did it matter if he knew my age?

  "Sure. You tell me first." I sat back in my seat and scratched Ziff's ears as he watched us banter. Nix shrugged, ruffling the dirty fur wrapped over his suited shoulders.

  "So be it," he agreed, finishing off his plate and neatly placing his cutlery together. "First of all, Mikhail bit you the other night, did he not?"

  I scowled. "How did you—"

  "I was watching," Nix explained with a wave of his hand. "Did it hurt? Or did it feel fucking fantastic?" My cheeks heated and the asshole smirked. "I figured as much. Mr. Ravena lost control, that moron. Instead of simply feeding from you, he went a step further and gave you a little of his essence, let you feel what it felt like for him to feed from you. From a woman he cares for. It didn't look like it went too far, from where I was standing, but I can just bet you're having some lingering effects now."

  "I don't even know what to say about that," I whispered, feeling like my eyes were the size of saucers. Whatever I thought Nix Locklear might tell me over lunch, that wasn't it. Not even remotely close. So this was about more than just vamp pheromones in my blood then. Great. Fantastic.

  I cleared my throat. No way in hell was I going any further down this line of questioning with Nix Locklear. I’d take this niblet of information and go straight to the source, see what Mikhail had to say about it. "That doesn’t exactly explain your history with him."

  "Changing the subject," Nix chuckled, this masculine sound that had my lady parts all confused. "Fair enough. I met him during the war. He used to shoot people back then, made money off murdering others, just like he does now."

  "Wait." I frowned. "What war?"

  "Does it matter?" Nix blinked back at me, like that information should have been obvious. "He was a killer, I worked in R&D like I do now, and we struck up a friendship. There isn’t much more to it than that."

  "So what happened? You clearly fell out over something," I prompted him, trying not to look too eager to hear about my stone-cold boss's history.

  "Or someone," Nix sighed. "A woman. Isn't it always? Anyway, I agreed to tell you how I knew him, not how we came to be the way we are now. So, tell me, Miss Hunt, how old are you really and when did you get those glorious tails?"

  I sat back in my seat, taking another sip of my wine before replying with a smile, "How old do you think I am?"

  Oh my foxfire. Did I honestly just say that? What am I, freaking thirteen?

  Frantically, my mind searched for something that might cover up what was possibly one of the most clichéd teenager flirtation lines in history, but Nix spoke before I could dig any deeper into that hole.

  "Well, I’d have pegged you to be in your early twenties, but you’re much too cheeky for that. Besides, one of the Nine only shows up once a century or so. In saying that ..." He tapped his lips with steepled fingers, like I was an entertaining word puzzle. "Two centuries? Three?" Is he playing with me right now? I might’ve liked that, had he not been a cold-hearted murderer and all. Fuck, maybe I did anyway?

  Biting the inside of my lip to hold back a smile, I tilted my head. "Is that your final answer?"

  I couldn't seem to stop myself from flirting back. It had to have been leftover juju from whatever Mik had done to me. Surely.

  "Am I right, Miss Hunt?" Nix gave me a smug, self-satisfied smile, and I couldn't resist cutting him back down.

  "Actually, I just turned thirty last month. But gosh, you were really close." I snickered at the dismayed look on Nix's handsome face. It was quickly followed by a flash of triumph that scared the bejesus out of me. "This was fun. I'll think about your offer and get back to you." Slipping Ziff's bag over my arm, I tucked my little friend inside, stood, and slid out from the bench seat. "In the meantime, try not to kill any more shifters."

  "Likewise," he murmured, and I chuckled as I sauntered out of the restaurant with just a little more sway to my hips than was strictly necessary. He could pick up the tab for my lunch, seeing as he had invited me.

  For now, I had a huge decision to make. To tell Mikhail … or not.

  "Ugh, Ziff. When did my life get so damn complicated?" I groaned to my foxy friend as I waited for my car from the valet. Ziff just chirped and trilled what sounded a bit like a laugh. Little shit.

  "You've got to be freaking kidding me," I muttered, stabbing my gate opener for about the fiftieth time and getting no luck. Furious, I redialed Mik's number again. I'd gotten his voicemail the last ten or fifteen times I'd called, but was too pissed off to leave a message.

  "Mik!" I snapped when he actually answered this time. "You changed my foxing gates? I can't get into my own damn house! You are in so much trouble—"

  My rant cut short as he hung up on me.

  He hung up on me!

  Boiling with fury, I stabbed redial again, and put the phone to my ear.

  "Mikhail fucking Ravena, you—" He hung up again, but this time my front gates opened so I threw my phone onto the passenger seat and accelerated up the driveway to my front door.

  After screeching to a halt, I slammed my darling Lola into park then stomped up my front steps without bothering to even close my car door. I was way too pissed off.

  How dare he? He changed my locks and then didn't give me access?!

  "Mik!" I bellowed, stomping into my foyer and hearing my voice echo through the enormous house. "Mikhail, where the hell are you?"

  "Thea, please, there’s no reason to yell," he said in a quiet, but no less forceful tone as he stepped out of my sitting room holding a damn brandy snifter. His short, dark hair was styled to perfection, a heavy navy coat hanging off his broad shoulders as he took a sip of his drink. Once again, I had that strange feeling that
he looked sad, but I just couldn’t reconcile that with his personality.

  "Fuck you," I hissed, my anger boiling over. "You come into my house uninvited, you change my freaking locks?! You've way overstepped the bounds of being my boss, Mik. Not to mention this bond you've started forming with me. When were you planning on telling me about that, huh?"

  For the first time in all the years since I'd met Mikhail Ravena, he looked uncertain. "Who the fuck—" He cut off and his face darkened like a thunderstorm. "Nix. When the fuck did you speak to Nix?"

  The fury in his tone made me falter, and I sucked in a breath, searching for an excuse. While initially I had planned on telling Mik about my lunch with Nix, or at least about the offer Nix had made, I hadn't really thought any further than that. I sure as shit didn't consider the fact that Mik might be angry enough to hurt me.

  "Uh ..." My eyes darted around my foyer, looking for a distraction. "Why don't you tell me what gave you the right to change the locks on my house and then make yourself right at home after?"

  Mik’s intense blue gaze narrowed on me, but I wasn't stupid enough to glare back. Did I want him reading my thoughts? Hell freaking no!

  "Your house wasn't secure. Any psychopath could have waltzed in here and killed you while you slept." His jaw tightened, like he was ready to defend his actions despite knowing he was in the wrong.

  "So?" I challenged. Yeah, I could be just as stubborn as this asshole when I wanted to be. "What if I liked it like that? You're not my freaking father, nor are you my lover, so you have no right to come into my home without my permission!" I paused. "Hell, even if you were my dad or my lover, you still can't come in without my permission. It's my house!"

  "Stop changing the subject, Thea," he snapped, slamming his drink down on my hall table so hard it cracked. Fucker. Those were Waterford crystal glasses! "You saw Nix. Want to tell me why that is?"

  Not ready to back down from the fight, I slung my jacket over the coat rack and folded my arms under my boobs. "Why? You jealous? Nix told me you two used to be friends until you fell out over a girl."

  "It sounds like you two had quite the chat," Mik growled, and I could see the points of his fangs poking out from between his lips as he advanced into my personal space. "Did you go looking for him this morning when you lied to me and said you were going with Chris?"

  "Actually, he came looking for me," I replied with a sassy smirk. "He invited me to lunch at Rioja. We had a lovely time, and he even offered to stop creating tainted dust."

  Mik's glare was so intense it felt like it was stripping a layer off of my skin, making it hard as hell to keep dodging his gaze. He stepped closer to me and my back bumped into the closed door. Just when I thought I might lose the battle and meet his eyes, he slammed his fist into the door beside my head so hard the heavy wood cracked.

  I flinched. It was a natural reaction, but one I immediately regretted. Flinching made me weak, made me prey. I was no one’s prey.

  "No." He spoke the word with such wrath it sent a shiver through me.

  "No, what?" I pushed, fighting to regain some of my courage.

  "No to whatever bullshit deal he tried to cut with you. Nix Locklear doesn't do anything for the good of the world, and he sure as shit doesn't do it for some sexy piece of tail. If he's offering you something big like that, then the price is too high. So you will tell him no." There was absolutely no room for movement with his tone, and it made me want to do the complete opposite. It also made me want to rip his shirt off and run my tongue all over his hard, chiseled abs … but that was the weird, vampire bite after-effects thing talking. Right?

  "You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do in my personal life, Mik," I whispered. There was no need to speak any louder when our faces were mere inches apart. Mik still towered over me—that dreaded word again—but my heels gave me a little extra height and he was bending down to my level somewhat. However it happened, our mouths were close enough to kiss.

  "I disagree," he murmured back, and I could feel his eyes trailing over my lips.

  What happened next, I wish I could explain. But the plain and simple fact of the matter was that I had no idea how we went from irate, arguing … to passionately kissing. One second I was about ready to tell him where to shove his possessive male-ness, and the next …

  "Thea," he groaned, coming up for air after what felt like a century of mauling one another's mouths. "We shouldn't …"

  His words trailed off without conviction as he hitched my legs around his waist and pinned me to the door with his rock-hard center. I was a woman possessed as his lips worked their way down the line of my throat, and I tipped my head to the side, giving him a clear invitation to my jugular.

  "Bite me, Mik," I panted, grinding my denim clad core against his hardened length, feeling desperate for more.

  He was clearly just as far gone as I was, because his fingers wrapped around my braids, holding them in an iron grip as he sank his fangs into my flesh without a second’s hesitation. There was a brief sting of pain on entry, but he soothed it much faster than the last time he'd fed from me, and within moments, I was writhing with pleasure.

  "Fuck yes," I moaned, shuddering through an orgasm as I felt the heavy, seductive pull of his mouth on my neck, sucking the very life from my body. It was heaven, pure euphoria, and I never wanted it to end.

  My fingers fumbled with his clothes, tearing his shirt open and sending buttons flying around my foyer like bullets. Smoothing my hands over his muscles, I went for his belt. As incredible as it felt to have his fangs in me, I just knew it'd be a whole other level if I had his cock in me, too.

  By the time I got his belt loosened and his fly undone, my fingers were trembling. Nothing was stopping me from getting what I wanted, though. What I needed.

  "No," Mik growled, tearing his face from my neck and shoving away from me. "No, this can't happen. This is wrong."

  Panting, my legs like jelly, I stared back at him, totally unafraid to meet his gaze for once. I had no issues with him seeing inside my head as it was just a detailed play-by-play of exactly what I wanted him to do to me.

  "Mik," I started, my voice in a husky whisper. He was perfection, standing there with my blood smeared across his mouth, his cut marble chest on display and his pants hanging open. "What's the issue here? We're both consenting adults, and I've never been one to get hung up on inter-species relations."

  "The issue," he snarled, wiping his bloody mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. "Is that you're my employee—at best. At worst, you're food. And I do not fuck my food."

  Stunned to silence, I said nothing as he pushed me away from the door and stormed out of my house. Powerful bastard that he was, he didn't even seem the slightest bit affected by the afternoon sun either.

  Several moments after he disappeared, I regained my wits and slammed the door shut hard enough to lengthen the crack Mik had already made in it. Fucking arrogant son of a vixen!

  Rage used to make me do stupid things, before I joined the guild. Before Mik taught me control. His rollercoaster mood swings were sending me straight back to square one though, because I was pissed.

  "Fuck him," I muttered, scooping up Ziff's bag from where I'd dropped it on entering the house. Ziff must have taken himself off to the kitchen or something while we were arguing, which was a little out of character for him. Then again, Mik was bringing that out in all of us lately.

  "Who needs that crazy, cold-hearted bastard anyway?" I was talking to myself as I wadded up a tea towel and pressed it to my still bleeding neck. It was all bullshit, what I was saying, and I knew it. Truth was, his words had cut me like a fucking knife.

  The least he could have done would be to heal his damn bite though. Selfish prick.

  Shelbi, my new wolf friend, was waiting out front of Rioja as promised when I rolled up in Lola at two minutes past eight. I popped the passenger side door open for her without getting out and she gave me a look as she slid in.

  "What?" I asked
her, frowning.

  "You're going to meet with the Vail Valley Alpha—a man well-known for his dislike of any other species—wearing that, and flaunting a vampire bite?" She whistled low. "Damn girl, you have got iron clad balls. I think I like you."

  "What’s wrong with what I'm wearing?" I demanded, looking down at myself. I was in my standard work-attire. Skin-tight, black leather catsuit and killer thigh-high boots. At my waist I had my bone knife, plus three other silver blades. On my back was a pair of custom-made short katanas which were perfectly weighted to my size and stature. In a pair of cross-body holsters and nestled under my arms sat two sexy purple Ruger LC9s.

  "You do know I was hired to kill the diseased wolves, right?" I squinted at her, like she'd totally missed the point earlier.

  "Oh, I know." She nodded with her eyebrows raised. "But you look like sex walking, and I'm as straight as an erect dick. Bennett is going to flip. I hope you know what you're doing, Thea."

  "I do," I said with confidence, despite the fact that I really didn't. This was what I wore on all my jobs; it was comfortable and functional, and despite the fact he'd said it as a snide joke, Fin was right about it being easy to clean blood off.

  Truthfully, it had never even crossed my mind that the wolf alpha might be interested in me in a sexual way. He'd been pretty clear that he was only turned-on by the thought of torturing and killing me … hadn't he?

  "So where were these places you mentioned, that a shifter might hide if he were slowly going mad?" I changed the subject, not wanting to let my mind dwell on Bennett in anything less than a professional capacity. Besides, we had two hours of driving—one if I went all speed-demon which I fully intended on—to kill.

  "There's a series of tunnels," she told me. Her fingers twisted at the balled up apron on her lap nervously, which was odd. "Or interlinking caves, really. They're on pack land, so only pack know about them. But you could easily hide in there for a long time if you had enough food and water."