The Nine_An Urban Fantasy Reverse Harem Romance Read online

  "This is bullshit," I muttered, starting toward the door when neither of them bothered to reply. Fin's hand shot out before I could get more than a couple of steps, slapping me in the chest and preventing me from passing. "Finley Wilde, trust me when I say you do not want to start a fight right now."

  My voice was pitched low, with a growl of anger underscoring the words, and I felt him hesitate a brief moment before his dickish mask slipped back onto his face. Fuck, I wanted to hit him.

  "Or what, Thea? Your tails are shackled, cutting you off from the magic. You're little more than human right now," Riot helpfully added, coming to stand at Fin's side with a gloating look in his slate gray eyes.

  "If you truly think the guild relies only on magic, the two of you are dumber than you look." I gave them both a disgusted once-over. "Now, get the hell out of my way, Fin."

  "Where are you going?" he asked, stubborn as ever. Fucking foxfire, some things never changed.

  "I'm going to see my best friend's drag show, and I'm late. Now move." I snarled the command at him and was satisfied to see Fin glance at Riot with uncertainty. Clearly, this was something they'd discussed in advance. Bastards.

  "Thea, you need to—" Fin started and I pushed past him, cutting him off.

  "Find you a nice little vixen who will be happy to stay home and cook and clean for you? Pop out some kits? Yeah. I got the memo, thanks asshole." I slammed out of the house and felt them start to follow me onto the rope bridge. "I'll be back to get my tails fixed when I've found her. Until then, Finley, Riot …" I turned to face the two devilishly handsome men I'd once thought myself in love with. "Until then, go fuck yourselves."

  Flipping them off, I shifted into my glorious white vulpine form and took off into the night, thankful for small mercies that the Ancients couldn’t strip me of my fox, even if they wanted to.

  As I ran, I glanced up at the moon nervously. Fae-Bitch was on in less than two hours and I still needed to get back across pack land to reach my car.

  It'd be worth it to see Chris though, because if anyone knew where to find an unmated female kitsune, it was him.

  Stupid, Thea. Stupid damn move.

  I cursed myself out as I darted through the dark undergrowth, trying my damnedest to keep my paws soft and make as little sound as humanly, or inhumanly, possible. The wolves were still out, and it wouldn't be long til one of them caught my scent. When that happened, I needed to be off pack land and back in my car. There was no way in hell I'd survive another run-in with the alpha without my magic.

  A howl went up in the distance, but not distant enough for my liking, and I pushed myself faster.

  By the time my sensitive nose caught the smell of rubber and exhaust fumes—indicating that both the parking lot and the end of pack land was close—my muscles were burning with exhaustion and starting to turn to jelly.

  Thank the Fox Father, I'm safe.

  Dashing through the last section of forest, I shifted back into human form on the run, so I didn't notice that sour taste of prophecy rolling through my mouth until it was almost too late.

  "Hello, little vixen," the alpha wolf said, his fingers curling around my arm and stopping me right on the border of pack land. I literally had one booted foot over the edge, heel to the pavement. The other was firmly in the grass.

  Shit.

  I shifted my tails and flicked their fluffy white tips in his face.

  His … really, really handsome fucking face.

  The Alpha Male of the Vail Valley Pack had a face chiseled from stone, his eyes a glimmering gold that mimicked the stars in the velvet sky above our heads. His mouth was a long, hard line, and his body was … I tried hard not to look at his body.

  "Let me go before I blow your cock off with foxfire," I said, letting my lips curl into a wily smirk. The wolf returned my smile, but his was darker, deeper, far more dangerous. Without my magic, I had to rely on strength, training … and fox tricks.

  None of which I thought could best an alpha … except for maybe the last one.

  "Let you go?" he asked, running his eyes down my human form appreciatively. "Fool me once, shame on you. But fool me twice? Oh, no, I think I like the idea of having a little vixen to play with."

  I let the long brush of my tails trail down his body until their feathered lengths were hovering just above the half-erect length of his cock. I had no idea what this fucker wanted from me, but I wasn't about to stick around and find out.

  "Have you ever mated with a fox before?" I asked and the alpha tilted his head to one side. Like me, he had his ears out, swiveling like satellite dishes on the top of his head, listening for movement from his pack. If he'd wanted to, he could've called them over here and had them on me before I could come up with a move tricksy enough to weasel out of this mess.

  That's what was so confusing to me; his intentions were all over the place.

  "No." His smile widened a bit and I felt my heart start to pound in response. Half fear and half ... half excitement? Oh god, I was such an adrenaline junkie. It was one of the reasons I'd joined the Assassins Guild in the first place.

  And it was also probably going to get me killed one day.

  "You're hard," I told him, teasing the firm muscles of his lower belly with all nine of my tails. "There must be a reason for that?"

  "Quite frankly," the wolf began, yanking me toward him. As far as physical strength went, we were not so evenly matched. I really was going to have to play up a trick to get myself out of here. "It never crossed my mind."

  I raised a black brow as my body slammed into his chest, the wet smell of earth and the sweetness of pine wrapping around me. Underneath it all, I could smell his sweat, his arousal, that masculine edge that teased and titillated and made me want to punch myself in the tit.

  I should not be turned-on right now.

  I should be terrified.

  Frankly, it was a pretty even fifty-fifty.

  "Believe it or not, unwilling women aren't my thing." He quirked his mouth to the side.

  "So why are you so damn excited?" I asked, leaning into him, feeling the hardness of his body press into my stomach.

  "The thought of death and violence … that excites me," he whispered, his breath stirring some loose hair around my face.

  Uh-oh.

  Complete and total psycho.

  My tails curled around my body, teasing their way down the hardened flesh of his abs as I tried to think up something nice and clever and foxy ...

  Leaning in, I brushed my lips against the edge of the alpha's jaw, and enjoyed it far more than any sane kitsune should.

  "Well, death and violence are all well and good, but mating with a fox?" I purred, running my palm down his chest and feeling his grip on my wrist relax. "That's a whole other level. We're dynamite in the sack."

  And then, because I'm so goddamn fucking clever, I lifted my knee up and hit the alpha as hard as I could, right in the family jewels.

  With a yowl, he released me and I stumbled over the edge of pack property and toward my car, standing on the opposite side and wondering if he had enough balls left in that sack of his to come after me.

  Standing up straight, the alpha male rubbed his hand along the edge of his lightly stubbled jaw and flashed a wolfish grin at me that was half pain, half amusement.

  "Next time I catch you on Vail Valley Pack land," he said, taking a few steps back from the property line. "I'm going to kill you."

  And then he shifted into a large ebony wolf, as dark as the shadows around us, and slipped away into the night.

  I didn't have time to sit and fret about death threats—I got them on a regular basis anyway.

  "Fucker," I mumbled, ignoring the fact that I was wet between the thighs and turned-on as all hell. I hit the button on the edge of the door and my car beeped happily at me. She was a gunmetal gray Porsche Carrera GT with a V10 racing engine, manual transmission, and fuck-all stability control. Last of the world's wild supercars, baby. And because I'd fled this
life, I could actually afford it.

  I climbed in, started the car, and peeled out of the lot with the stench of burning rubber behind me.

  The nightclub Fae-Bitch was performing in was a multi-level beast just outside the Denver city limits. It was a nearly two hour drive from Vail for most people … One for me and the Porsche.

  "Hunty, you must have a serious death wish," Chris said as he kissed both my cheeks and left pink glittery smears on my face. "Because if you'd missed this set, I would've hunted your skinny little ass down and shoved my heel up it."

  "Don't be such a diva," I said, and Chris, aka Little Miss Vixen—we both thought the name was hilarious—cast his shadowed lids back in my direction. He was still pissed about being eliminated during episode two of RuPaul's Drag Race and was determined to prove himself tonight.

  "Honey, I get paid to be a diva," he said, flicking turquoise butterfly wings at me. Every person in that club was damn near positive that Chris fucked some Hollywood special effects guru to get them. In reality, those were his real wings. But everyone and their drag-mother was dressed up in here, so it was hard to tell the supes from the humans.

  "I reserved you a table, but you're late as shit so they gave it away. You can either stand at the bar where you won't see jack—because you're short as fuck—or you can sass your way into a better seat. Either way, do it quick. I'm up in less than a minute." Chris smacked more kisses on my cheeks, then hustled his tight ass backstage to begin.

  Using some of my natural foxlike stealth, I slipped through the crowds to the bar, and managed to have my fingers wrapped around a margarita on the rocks before the lights dimmed, indicating the show was about to start.

  Turning to face the stage, I settled my back against the bar. Chris wasn't lying when he said I was short; I was part Japanese after all. But the bar was set back from the crowd just enough that I could see over them to the stage, so I didn't miss a thing when Little Miss Vixen made her dramatic appearance.

  A proud grin spread across my face as she burst into her lip-sync with a flurry of glitter, sequins, and gossamer wings, and I placed my drink down to cheer loudly. If I’d been a real superfan, I’d be flashing my tits and yelling you better werk, bitch like some of the people around me. But eh, a few whistles and some claps should do it.

  Reaching for my margarita once again, my fingers met with someone else's and I startled, looking over at the tall, black-haired man who held his palm over the rim of my glass.

  "Do you quite mind?" I snapped, swatting his hand away and taking the drink from the bar.

  "Thea, don't be stupid," Mikhail Ravena sighed, snatching the drink back out of my hand before it reached my lips, and dumping its contents on the floor. "Just because you're a kitsune does not mean you're immune to date rape. You should know better than to put your drink down in a crowded bar like this."

  "Seriously, Mik?" I snarled. "I've had a long ass day, and I needed that drink. You better be buying me another one or there will be trouble."

  "Hmm, so I see. You still have a little blood …" My boss lifted one elegant finger and trailed it down the side of my neck, so slowly it could’ve been seductive. If I didn't know better, that was. The way he was watching me, with burning desire in his sapphire blue eyes, was not because of my body … it was for my blood.

  "Wolves," I said, by way of explanation, but made no attempt to wipe away the trace of blood that held his attention riveted to my throat. Call me insane, but the thrill I got from watching a hungry vampire eye-fuck my jugular made my nipples harden to the point of painful under my leather corset.

  I'd taken the time to do a quick outfit change in my Porsche, as I knew I'd hear no end of grief from Chris if I'd rocked up to his show wearing my bodysuit. Despite it being skintight, he always told me it was like a sexy wetsuit. Totally fine for killing people in, but not okay for a fabulous drag show. Instead, I was in a sharply-laced, black leather corset which boosted my tits up to the point of indecency, a tight red pencil skirt with a space in the back for my tails, and flirty black patent leather stilettos with red bows on the toes. My long, black hair was in a fishtail braid over my shoulder and all together, I looked like a pinup dominatrix. Hot as fuck.

  "Tell me, Thea," Mikhail said quietly, finally breaking his gaze from my throat and pinning me with his intense stare, "were you planning on informing the guild that you'd acquired a ninth tail?"

  And by guild, he totally meant, were you planning on informing me?

  Ice ran through me at his words and I turned back to watch the show, if only to give me a moment to catch my breath. There was a reason Mikhail was the acting head of RADOPA. He was as old as the hills and powerful as fuck. He was also ruthless, bloodthirsty, and loyal to no one but himself.

  "I didn't think it was necessary," I whispered, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

  "Not necessary?" Mik repeated in his velvety, soft voice. Nothing good came from that voice.

  Shit. I'm in so much trouble.

  "I figured you already knew. The guild has eyes everywhere, right?" Picking up my dignity, and courage, I turned back to him and met his deep, blue gaze with an unblinking stare.

  "You know, eight years you've worked for me, and I still can't decide if you're the bravest kitsune alive, or the stupidest," he remarked, but the deadly edge was gone from his voice. Instead, there was something far more concerning: amusement.

  He held my eyes for a really tense moment, until eventually I cracked and ducked my own to his chin. Holding the wolf alpha's gaze had been hard, but holding Mik's was impossible. Not that I was a particularly submissive—read not at all submissive—person, but hell, he was just this perfect mix of pretty and intimidating. As Chris would say, fucking scrumptious. I had no idea what ethnicity he was, but he had this ageless sort of face, masculine but far from Neanderthal in its proportions. Add in those big, round eyes that always seemed to be permanently half-lidded, and a mouth that was fuller and juicier than my own, and hell, I was both jealous and turned-on. Mikhail Ravena was an all-American asshole in a trench coat. Be still, my ovaries.

  The vampire made a satisfied noise that I'd clearly come to my senses, and gestured at the bartender for a new drink to replace the one he'd tipped out. While we waited, neither one of us spoke, so I turned my attention back to the energetic drag queen lip-syncing for her life onstage.

  "I trust I don't need to remind you how vital it is that you succeed on Sunday?" Mikhail finally said, and I looked at him sharply from the corner of my eye.

  "I'm aware," I snapped, not liking his implication that I retained anything less than a one-hundred-percent success rate. Not even the goddamn snake shifters had a perfect record, and those bastards were deadly as fuck.

  "Good. Then I trust there won't be any trouble caused by your people over this new development?" He reached out and stroked a finger down one of my silky white tails. The way the nine of them sat behind me gave the illusion of a bustled train, like they were a part of a burlesque outfit.

  One little known fact about a kitsune's tail though, was that they were a major erogenous zone, and having someone stroke them like Mik had just done was akin to having him run his tongue up my inner thigh.

  Little known fact it may be, but he damn well knew what he'd just done.

  "Cunt tease," I whispered, swishing my tails out of reach and grabbing the drink the bartender had passed over to us. Service had been okay when I'd ordered … It was flawless for Mikhail. Heh, guess in a gay bar I probably should've made my way over to the female barkeep at the other end of the room.

  "Cunt tease?" Mikhail asked, his voice tinged with the tiniest bit of humor. But my attempts at being playful and coy seemed to fall flat in the wake of our sexual tension. Years we'd been holding onto it. Years. Frankly, I just sort of wanted to fuck the guy and be done with it. Hearing him say the word cunt in a voice made of velvet and night was not helping me resist.

  "Date rape," I murmured as I popped the tiny colored straw betw
een my lips and rolled my eyes. "When's the last time you ever heard of a lesbian date-raping anyone? Now men, that's where the real danger lies." I flicked my gaze in Mikhail's direction and found a bored, assholish sort of quality sitting on his features. He'd play with me for a moment or two, but then his ageless ass always inevitably dropped back into work mode.

  "Perhaps that was the wrong term to use. Thea, this job makes fine enemies, the best in the world. Death is a glue that never fails to bond."

  "Yawn," I said, focusing on Chris as he killed Katy Perry's Peacock with these flawless little shoulder shimmies that sent his fake boobies a jiggling. They were super nice silicone ones I'd bought for his birthday—boobsforqueens.com, no joke. It was a thing. "I'm aware of my limitations, Mik, thank you."

  "Are you though?" he asked, lifting a dark brow. I couldn't look at him, not right then. My blood was still on fire from my encounter with that psychotic piece of shit alpha. Wow. I mean, what a crazy fuck! And yet … yet … I shifted and tried to pretend my thighs weren't clenching together, hot wet heat blooming down below. "Then how on earth do you expect to take your target down on Sunday with absolutely zero magic?"

  Uh-oh.

  My face paled and I sucked down a little more of my drink. I wasn't going to get through this meeting without a lot of tequila in my blood.

  "I'm assuming you braved wolf territory to find the skulk?"

  "Earth," I said, because the word skulk was reserved for trying to placate assholes in life and death situations only. It was too pejorative to come from my boss' lips. "And yes. I went to get my tail bound."

  "And came back with no magic. What happened, Thea?" Mikhail asked me, standing up and letting his long red military coat swish with the movement. He moved to block me from Fae-Bitch's performance and I reached up to swat him out of the way.

  It was like swatting bricks, hitting that asshole in his flat, firm, perfect chest.

  "What happened?" he repeated, that Lucullan voice of his twisting my insides into knots. Fucker. I sucked down the rest of my drink and cranked my head to watch as Chris finished his song, disappearing behind the curtains for a quick outfit change. That boy was fierce.