Emerge: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance

by Lena Mae Hill

  I dove for the chair on the floor. It was one of those with a metal frame and a padded seat that simply folds flat. It hadn’t folded in half when I kicked it over, but I grabbed two of the legs and spun in a circle, swinging it as hard as I could.

  The metal clanged against Joaquin’s skull, the reverberations sickeningly satisfying as they traveled up my arms. While he stumbled backwards, I dove for the door. Twisted the lock. Twisted the knob.

  I had one foot literally out the door when Joaquin grabbed my goddamn hair. He dragged me backwards, and I fell, hard. Scrambling for something to hold onto, my foot hooked around the doorframe. Still gripping my hair, Joaquin heaved me farther in, kicking the door closed on his way. I grabbed at his arm, his hand, trying to end the torture happening to my scalp.

  In seconds, he’d hauled me back across the room. He threw me face down on the bed and straddled my hips. When I tried to push up, he caught my hands and pulled them behind my back again. I cursed my mother for not letting me be a normal kid who worked out at the gym, or played sports, or even had PE class. I felt pathetically weak and powerless under Joaquin’s muscled thighs.

  Just as I was about to break down, my phone rang. I tensed. Joaquin tensed. “You’re supposed to be in tutoring for two hours,” he said. “Who’s calling you?”

  “I don’t know, let me just check,” I said. “Oh, wait, that would require hands.”

  “Fuck it. They’ll think you had your phone off in the library,” he said, turning his attention back to me. “Now, here’s how this is going to work. See, you’re not very smart, Gwen. When you freaked out about getting on the bed, you told me what you’re really afraid of. If I was tutoring you, I’d make sure you didn’t give away so much information.”

  “What do you want?” I asked, my face muffled in his pillow.

  “I really didn’t want to rape you,” he said. “But I will if you make me.”

  I sucked in a shuddering breath. His pillow smelled like stale smoke and dirty hair—a scent I was all too familiar with—and boys, one with which I was sadly lacking in familiarity. If he raped me, I’d forever be marred by this experience no matter who I was with.

  But if he killed me, I’d never know what it was like to kiss a boy, to revel in his scent instead of holding back a gag. I’d never know what it meant to be a true friend, to navigate high school, to go to college, to get a job, or to have a fight with someone who wasn’t my mom. I’d never fly on a plane, go to a concert, or fall in love.

  In the past weeks, I’d barely begun to live. Before then, I’d never held a boy’s hand, or ridden on a motorcycle, or felt my heart flip when someone smiled. I was thankful for these things. But I was greedy, and I wanted more than that. I wanted so much more.

  “Let’s make a deal,” Joaquin said. “I’m a fair guy. All I wanted was to talk. You’re the one who made a big scene.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered into the pillow. I remembered reading somewhere that some men will hurt you more if you fight back. Maybe he was the kind who would take pity on me if I begged. I wasn’t above it. Hell, I’d begged for money on the street just so my mother could have dinner.

  “That’s better,” Joaquin said, stroking my hair back from my cheek. “Now, we’re going to have a nice little conversation for the next two hours. If you hadn’t gone all psycho on me, I wouldn’t even have tied you up. We could have done things nice and civil, like friends. Just like you’d talk to your stepbrothers. But no. You had to act like a complete freak, didn’t you, Gwen?”

  His voice was hard, but I had no trouble making mine sound quavering and pathetic. I just let out my natural fear. “Yes.”

  “So here’s how this works,” he said. “You sit in the chair, and I tie you up. I ask you a question, and you answer. If I like your answer, you get to stay there, just as you are. If I don’t like it, there will be consequences as I deem necessary.”

  “What kind of consequences?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  “That depends,” he said. “Maybe my kind of consequence. Maybe yours.” He made a motion with his hips like he was riding a bull, and I shuddered, tears springing to my eyes.

  “If you scream, you get to live your worst nightmare. How’s that sound?”

  I nodded, a tear leaking from the corner of my eye into his pillow. Dammit. I didn’t want this psychopath to see me cry.

  “Now, I’m going to tie your legs to the chair in case you get any ideas about surprising me again, but I’ll leave your hands free so you can have your drink and feel comfortable.” The futon squealed as he stood.

  I thought about punching him in the groin, but I wasn’t sure it was worth getting raped. He still had hold of my hair, and I couldn’t count on him to let go when I punched him.

  He pulled me up, set the chair upright, and pushed me down into it. “We’re just going to talk?” I asked. “You promise that if I don’t scream, you won’t hurt me?”

  “Rape you,” he corrected, his voice sounding so businesslike that I shivered. He kicked a bin out from under his bed, dragging it over with his foot while he kept a tight hold on the hair at the base of my neck. “Now, lift your feet back here so I can tie them to the back legs of the chair. That way, your feet won’t touch the ground, in case you get any ideas about running. This will be your first test. How scared are you to get a little wang in your poontang?”

  Every instinct in my body told me to run like a scared little bunny, but I knew he was too strong and too fast. Even if I made it through the door, I hadn’t seen anyone on the tiny street for the entire two blocks we’d walked from the library. I didn’t know if anyone lived in the other apartments in the long, low building. If they did, I didn’t know if they were home, or if they’d help me.

  Clenching my teeth with rage, I forced my legs to go limp as Joaquin pulled them back and tied them to the chair with some rope he’d pulled from the bin. As he was tying the second one, my phone rang again. I dove for it, my hands shaking so hard I didn’t know if I could get it out of the side pocket of my backpack.

  I grabbed it out, relief flooding through me when I saw the name on my screen. Zeke.

  As I tapped my thumb on the screen to accept the call, Joaquin’s hand shot out and smacked the bottom of mine. The phone flew into the air, and a cry ripped from my throat, my hands shooting out to catch it.

  I didn’t catch it, though. Joaquin did.

  His eyes locked on mine, full of malicious fury. “Dude, what’s the emergency?” he said into the phone in his obnoxious surfer-dude voice. “How am I supposed to impart my smarts to your sister when her phone’s ringing right and left?”

  He paused, holding a finger to his lips.

  I could scream. Zeke was just down the street at the school. He’d be here in five minutes.

  But by then, the damage would be done.

  Still, at least I’d live…

  Maybe.

  “Of course she’s fine,” Joaquin said. “She’s just too nice to tell you to leave her alone. Here, talk to her.”

  He reached into his pocket, pulled his hand out, and a six inch blade slicked out of a knife. He held out the phone, stepping behind me and grabbing a fistful of my hair. With one hand, he pulled my head back against his chest, holding the blade against my throat with the other. When I swallowed, I could feel the cold steel pressing into my skin.

  “Gwen? You cool?” Zeke asked.

  “I’m cool,” I said, wincing at how uncool those words sounded coming from my mouth. “Just…studying.”

  “Sweet,” Zeke said “I…I don’t know why I called. Just making sure you made it okay.”

  Joaquin’s fingers tightened in my hair. “Tell him you have to go.”

  “I should go,” I said as Joaquin bent lower, angling the tip of the blade under my chin.

  “Joaquin’s not doing anything too…Joaquin?”

  Like holding a knife to my throat? Nope. Not at all.

  “Just studying,” I said again.

 
“Get off the phone,” Joaquin said through clenched teeth, the knife point pricking my skin.

  “I’ll let you go then,” Zeke said. “I just had this weird feeling, I don’t know, I guess it was stupid.”

  “It’s not stupid,” I said. Would that be enough? It would have been enough for Eliot.

  But Zeke was not Eliot.

  I closed my eyes, praying harder than I’d ever prayed before that the first call had come from Eliot, not Zeke. That Eliot had wondered why I didn’t pick up. He’d said he was the anxious type, and we’d shared a connection before. He’d sensed when I was in trouble at school, and that was just a couple mean girls. This was a psycho with a knife.

  Joaquin yanked the phone away from me and hung up, dropping it into his pocket. “Now, where were we?” he said, his eyes bright with fury. “Oh, yes, you were learning to be a good guest. A good guest doesn’t answer her phone in the middle of a conversation. Now, what shall your punishment be? My choice or yours. We’ll take turns choosing.”

  “I’m bleeding,” I pointed out, feeling a warm trickle down my neck from where he’d poked the knife into me.

  “My turn,” he said, his eyes lighting on the spot. He stepped between my knees, grabbing the hair at the crown of my head and yanking my head back. In one movement, he bent and ran his long tongue from my collarbone up to the nick he’d made in my skin.

  Releasing me, he stepped back, shaking a clump of hair from his fingers. There was more on the floor and the bed from where he’d dragged me across the room. The sight of the clumps of hair made my stomach turn more than the fact that he’d just licked blood off my neck.

  “What are you?” I whispered.

  “Didn’t your mommy tell you?” he said, his long tongue flicking against the tip of his switchblade. “I’m your worst nightmare.”

  “A demon.”

  He grinned. “I guess Mommy did tell you. But I ask the questions here, not you.”

  I tried to remember things she’d told me, but most of what I knew about demons was to run away from them. I probably knew as much about demons as human boys, so it really didn’t give me an advantage one way or another, but just having some knowledge of what I was up against gave me courage.

  “Fine,” I said. “I thought we were having a conversation. Usually, those go both ways, but if we’re going to drop the pretense and call this an interrogation, that’s cool, too.”

  “Shut up and take your drink.” Shoving the cup into my hand, he sat on the edge of the bed and watched me take a sip. His whole face changed, relaxing and rearranging into the casual, dopey face of the surf rat I’d met on my first day. “So, Gwen,” he said, leaning forward like we were sharing a secret. “Where you from?”

  “Around,” I said warily.

  He flipped his switchblade closed, then open again, wiggling his eyebrows at me. “Ready for more?”

  “I was homeless,” I said quickly, fighting a shudder at the thought of his tongue on my skin again. “We traveled around the country. I was born at Mass General.”

  “Ah,” he said, nodding. “Same as me. Interesting. What about your brothers?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hmmm.” He ran the tip of his tongue along the sharp edge of his blade. “I don’t think I like that answer.”

  “Wait,” I said, holding up a hand when he stood. “I think they were. Yes, I remember now. Neil did mention that.”

  “Did he now?” Joaquin said, stalking around me. “What else did he tell you? Did he tell you you’re special? That you’re a god?”

  “What? No.”

  “But you are, aren’t you?” He lifted a lock of my hair and buried his nose in it. “I can smell it on you. Which one are you? Baldur? No, he’s dead. Freya the Slut?”

  “I’m not a god,” I said. “I’m nothing.”

  “That’s what your brother said on the street back there,” he said. “Oh, yes. I heard you. I have excellent hearing, Gwen. It’s part of being a good listener.”

  “Then you know it’s true.”

  “False,” he yelled, lunging toward me.

  I jerked back in my seat, and Joaquin laughed maniacally.

  “What do you mean?” I whispered.

  “I heard you both admit you were pieces of the gods. Now I just need to know which one. You’re not one of the good ones,” he mused. “Not part of me.”

  “Wait—you said you’re a demon. You’re a god, too?”

  “Who said I was a demon?” he asked with a smirk. “Maybe I’m a demon, maybe I’m not. I could be Loki. He likes to cut hair. Maybe I’ll give you a buzz cut. See if your brother wants to fuck you then.”

  “What?” I asked, pulling back.

  “Are you stupid? I told you, I saw your little lover’s quarrel with the prodigal son.”

  “Xander hates me.”

  “Xander hates everyone,” he said, circling me. “Didn’t they tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Why he’s such a vile human waste.”

  I opened my mouth to defend him, then stopped. The damn Keens with their damn secrets. I’d followed this nutcase home to get answers to questions they could have told me themselves. If I could keep Joaquin talking, though, maybe I could buy enough time…

  “No,” I said slowly. “Xander doesn’t tell me anything.”

  “That’s too bad,” Joaquin said, turning to look over his shoulder at me, then spinning on his toes to face me. “Tell you what. We’ll gossip after you tell me what I want to know.”

  “What do you want to know? I really think you have the wrong person. I don’t know anything.”

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Five,” I said automatically. Then I remembered that I hadn’t counted myself, but I didn’t correct my statement. I didn’t know why he wanted to know, but it couldn’t be for anything good. I was going to feed him as many half-truths as I could get away with.

  “So it’s just you and all those Keens,” he said. “Neil’s been collecting them for ages. I’ve tried to get to them, but this is the first time I’ve had a real opportunity like this. Let’s make it count, shall we? Now, spill your guts, or I will.” He wiggled his eyebrows and flicked his pointy tongue out to touch the tip of his switchblade again.

  What good was it to be part of a god if I couldn’t do anything with it? What good was it if it didn’t work unless we were all together? I closed my eyes and screamed inside my head, as loud as I could into the emptiness of our connection.

  “What are you doing?” Joaquin demanded.

  Because I didn’t know what else to do, and he wasn’t wasting time talking, I talked. I told him about being on the run my whole life, about Mom’s mental state, about things I’d never told anyone. I could have made up something, but it was sort of a relief to get it out, to tell someone and not care if he thought I was a freak. He was probably going to kill me, and if he didn’t, I seriously didn’t think he cared that I’d been a homeless, socially-stunted, uneducated weirdo whose best friend was a fictional Civil War widow.

  I couldn’t tell my new family those things. I wanted them to like me, to think I was worthy of being part of the Keen family. I didn’t care what Joaquin thought. Let him think it. As long as I kept talking, he’d keep his knife put away.

  Finally, I ran out of things to say.

  “And what happened when you got here?” Joaquin asked. “Anything strange?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Wrong answer,” he said, circling behind me. He grabbed my hands and yanked them behind my back. The Grape Drink tumbled out of my lap, splattering across the matted, stained carpet. Joaquin bound my hands tightly, then stepped back. “Now you lost privileges. So what happened?”

  “Nothing,” I said again.

  “Nothing?” he asked, stalking around me, his eyes narrowed. “No blown out windows at home? I guess that just happened at school, huh?”

  Shit. How had I forgotten that the whole school had wi
tnessed that?

  “Just at school,” I said quickly, not sure where he was going with this. I had no plan but to stay alive as long as I could and hope the others would find me.

  Heimdall, help me, you nine-mothered bastard!

  “Now it’s your turn,” Joaquin said. “I bound your hands. What punishment would you like?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I’m telling the truth.”

  “Bullshit.” He strode forward and grabbed my hair at the crown of my head again. “I always did like blondes,” he said. “How about a kiss? You never had a boyfriend when you were homeless, right? Think of all you’ve missed out on.”

  “No,” I said, trying to twist my head away.

  Joaquin grinned maniacally, yanking my head straight, leering as his face approached mine. I sucked in my lips and bit down on them as his mouth smashed against mine, his tongue wiggling along the seam of my lips, trying to get inside. At the corner of my mouth, the tip of his pointed tongue wormed its way inside, slithering along my teeth before retreating.

  At least my first kiss was memorable.

  Joaquin sat back and licked his lips. “Want some more?”

  “There was nothing except the one day at school,” I burst out.

  Joaquin paced the tiny apartment, flicking his knife open and closed and muttering to himself. “There should be more of you. One piece is the key. The others form the lock around the key. Who else could be part of it?”

  I shook my head, confused and wary at once. What was he talking about? Heimdall had mentioned an essence, but he hadn’t explained it. Was that the key? The key to what? And if I was the key, and Joaquin killed me, did that mean he’d be killing the god itself? What would happen to the other pieces if Heimdall died?

  “It must be someone at school then, if it only happened there,” he said, stopping in front of me. “Someone you met before your brothers. Maybe on your way into town.”

  I shook my head again. “I don’t know.”

  “Last chance, Gwennie. Who’s enamored with you besides your brothers?”

  Enamored with me? What was he talking about? Sure, I had a spark with my step-brothers, but I couldn’t be sure it was more than the god bond. And it was hardly strong enough to call it enamored.