Control of Five: A Reverse Harem Series (Origins of the Six Series Book 2) Read online

  “Can I help you?” Mrs. Warren asks in such a small voice her mouth barely moves.

  I glance to the Headmaster’s open door and spot the vampire looming over Headmaster Willm’s desk. His tone, unlike the receptionist’s, carries like a man who wants to be heard loud and clear.

  “I was in the area and I thought I’d make my yearly donation early,” the mysterious man says.

  A hard clattering sound tenses every muscle in my body just as a solid brick of glittering gold slams to the desk in front of him. The gleaming edges of the donation are smoothed into a perfect rectangle but the scrawling writing across the top is a language I’ve never seen before.

  “We appreciate your increased donation, Mr. Von Hunter. You and the Vampiric Citadel are very kind,” the Headmaster praises all on one hurried breath.

  Mrs. Warren looks to the open door and then back to me lingering at the counter before she just slowly turns her head back to her old typewriter, as if to say she doesn’t get paid enough to type up memos as well as toss students out for eavesdropping. She clicks away, happily ignoring me.

  “You are most welcome, Dr. Willms. Now about my son.”

  A nervous chuckle trickles through the open door and even I arch my eyebrow at how ridiculous that fake laughter sounds.

  Willms needs to practice.

  How did he ever make it in a school full of deadly Prod’s with a fake ass laugh like that?

  “Saint has had a bit of trouble recently. Please sit down and I’ll explain.”

  “I’m not sitting down because this won’t take long.” Mr. Von Hunter draws those words out like it pains him to even have to speak to the squirmy little man standing before him. “Release. My. Son. He was sent here to grow the fuck up. Not to vacation in isolation. If I wanted him to have some free time, I would have twisted his scrawny neck with my own two hands, Dr. Willms. It’s something I’d rather not have to do today to a man such as yourself.”

  There’s a shifting pause where Mrs. Warren and I pass each other a raised brow look--a gossiping sort of shit’s starting to get good look--before she gets back to work and the men in the other room get back to the tense conversation.

  “You see, Mr. Von Hunter--”

  Thunder rains through the room. The desk between them is tossed into the wall and with supernatural speed the vampire pins the Headmaster to the floor.

  “Saint. Now,” Mr. Von Hunter grinds out, fangs extended, nearly grazing the skin of the trembling Warlock beneath him.

  Before I can even take another quiet breath, Saint stumbles into the room from thin air and barely catches himself on the door as he looks down at his father preparing to eat his Headmaster alive.

  My lungs ache for a breath but I can’t do anything as I stare wide eyed at the man who was ripped away from me.

  He’s here.

  Saint’s bright blue eyes shift and then he’s looking right at me, wild hair pulled in all directions.

  My heart drills. My lips part. Time stands completely still in honor of the man I thought I’d never see again.

  In a flash he’s right in front of me, fingers digging into my hips as he walks me step by step until I’m pressed hard into the cool glass of the office door.

  Mrs. Warren is really getting quite the show today, isn’t she?

  “I didn’t think I’d see you again, Feck.” His hard body comes closer and closer and I can’t help but arch into him.

  “Remember what I did right before I left?” he asks on a rasping tone, his mouth almost touching mine with every word he speaks.

  The fleeting kiss he gave me flashes through my mind and my heart hurts just thinking about that night. I nod slowly as the memory of his lips pressing softly to mine flickers through my head. A smile slants his full lips, his fangs teasing his mouth at the edges.

  “I did it then because I thought I’d never get another chance to.” His breath skims my mouth just before his lips follow, brushing so lightly a sigh slips out of my lungs. “I’m doing it now because I’m not wasting any more chances. I’m going to kiss you.” He does just that, just long enough to make the tingling feeling in my chest press hard to get out. “I’m going to protect you...” Another lingering kiss that has the smallest hint of his teasing tongue sliding along mine. “... And I’m going to fuck you like I might die in this goddam academy and Izara Castillo is my last meal waiting to be devoured. My last request.”

  When he deepens the kiss, his teeth scrape over my lower lip, coating my tongue with the taste of copper and freedom that makes him groan against me, sending unknown bliss thriving through my body in waves.

  I can’t think as he kisses me, I can’t breathe, all I know is that climbing sensation that’s rising up inside me.

  I don’t notice it at all when his long fingers slide around my throat and he sucks my lip fully, fangs grazing the inside of my mouth, sending pulsing, orgasmic lust right to my clit.

  As my vegetarian vampire drinks my blood.

  Three

  Saint

  It’s like tasting the blazing glory of fire and the exotic texture of magic. After two weeks of being starved to near insanity in isolation, I feel alive again. The only thing that kept me from falling into the madness was the memory of her lips and now she’s in front of me, like a dream, like every wish come true. My senses tingle and buzz at her nearness.

  Warmth trickles across my fingertips and my palm slides down her throat as the most unbelievable taste washes over my tongue. Her delicate moan surges through me and hums right down through my cock as I suck harder and grind my hips against hers.

  And then my eyes flash open with realization.

  My fingers release from around her fragile neck and find blood covering my palm, her skin, her chin, her swollen lower lip.

  My tongue rolls across my lips to the sweetest taste that’s ever touched my tongue. Fire and magic.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, wiping my mouth with my arm and lifting my shaking hands to cradle her jaw. “Holy fucking blood bath.” She blinks up at me with the sexiest sated look in her obsidian like eyes. “I’m--I’m so sorry, Izzy.”

  I haven’t drunk blood and not vomited the metallic shit back up in years.

  And all I want to do is sink my teeth into the most sensitive part of her body, just to see if it tastes sweeter, against her throat, across her breasts, between her thighs.

  The very thoughts that invade my mind are jarring in their entirety. Has isolation made me completely lose all common sense?

  “What?” She tilts her head at me but when she presses her fingers to her slick, red mouth, her eyes grow wide with shock.

  Fuck me, why did I do this to her?

  “I’m sorry.”

  But there are some things even an apology can’t fix. I tasted her. Fuck, I’ve tasted her and all I really want to do, all my body really demands right now, is that I do it again.

  She pauses as if she’s thinking all of this through, but I’m honestly just as lost as she is. Why the fuck did I do that? What is wrong with me?

  She meets my gaze and I’m just about to apologize again when she lifts her middle and index fingers between us, pressing her blood to my lips like a taste test.

  Or is this a different kind of test? Is she testing me?

  Fuck, I’m going to fail.

  My tongue flicks against her fingertips, lightly at first. Then I hold her wrist with both hands and pull her digits fulling into my mouth, sucking the teasing taste of her so hard that I know she feels the pressure of my mouth right between those thighs of hers.

  Her lips part with an unsteady breath and then I lean into her all over again, prepared to lift her skirt right here and now, fuck everything else.

  “That’s enough, Saint,” a familiar disappointed voice scolds me.

  Firm fingers dig into my shoulder and he hauls me back in a single powerful pull. I feel her loss keenly, the lack of her touch like the loss of a limb. All my mind can flash back to in this instant is the momen
t I was pulled from her arms. The taste of ash and tears of our last kiss mingles in with the taste of blood and the promise of orgasmic bliss of this one.

  I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I want Izara Castillo in this moment.

  And then my fucking father’s vacant stare settles right into me, shoving every single dirty thought aside from the intense force of his look. Even when his crystal like eyes scan my face with disturbing vacancy, I can feel the disappointment shuddering through every pulse of it. I shouldn’t fucking care anymore, but I do. I fear I always will.

  A curious look crosses his features as he studies me.

  “Blood? Finally found a taste for the finer things. It’s about time. Perhaps this place isn’t a complete and utter waste.” He releases me with a hard shove and when his attention spans to Izzy, I want to throw myself in front of her. Hide her away from the deadly man who’s my own flesh and blood.

  “And who are you?” He stares unimpressed at her, judges her from the toes of her white shoes to the top of her shining black hair, the same way he looks at his human blood donors. Like he could easily reach out and snap their necks in one jerking move. But my father sees things with the keen senses of a predator hunting for prey, and whatever he sees in Izara is dangerous indeed.

  Her hair is slightly damp and ruffled, her dark eyes dilated. The heady scent of desire wafts from her body and the steady thumping of her pulse is like a beckoning. Blood drips from her mouth and chin, dribbling a path down her throat to tease at her neck.

  She looks like a gothic painting come to life.

  Porn. Fuck it. She looks like bloody vampire porn.

  Her chin lifts as if she’s aware of how dangerous my father is and refuses to show weakness. Good. Maybe she is learning here.

  “Izara Castillo.”

  My father nods, very straightforward, very blunt and I can tell he’s about to get to the point because he can’t waste anymore time on me today.

  “Make sure my son continues to feed from you.” He extends his hand and when he pulls away from her, she’s holding one of his ancient Romanian Dacian gold coins.

  He just paid her like a prostitute. Great. Fucking perfect first impression, dad. This day can’t get any better.

  I wonder if it’s too late to ask them to toss me back in isolation.

  “One more thing before I go,” my father says, turning to me like he’s about to have a real heart to heart with his son, number Twenty-two. Yes, I’m numbered. Yes, I know my number. And yes, I rank much lower on that on the affection scale.

  “You’ve already given me so much, I don’t think any other gifts are really necessary.” I force the smile on my face. The faster this ends, the safer everyone on this campus will be.

  “I agree, I’ve given you too much already. Your mother threatened to call the bloody Catholic Pope again if I didn’t come in today,” he slices his gaze across my face like I too should be cursing Pope Francis.

  If looks could kill, I’d be chopped up into little tiny edible pieces by now.

  “This is the last time you embarrass the Von Hunter family, Saint. Is that clear? The next time we meet, I will not be as lenient as I have been.”

  Because that was one way to describe my father. Lenient. Right.

  “Fortunately, I have come to an agreement with Headmaster Willms on how to keep you in line. The next time you screw up will be your last.”

  “Yeah, so you’ve said.”

  His eyes flash with the desire for violence, but my father is nothing if not controlled. He’ll berate me in front of others, but he will not show his true cruelty, even if it bleeds out in the tone of his voice and hides laced between the curl of his every word.

  “What’s done is done.”

  He turns, his long coat wafting across the tile floor as he exits rather dramatically.

  What’s done is done. What does that mean? A sort of it is what it is, you can’t change the past, haters gonna hate, inspirational nonsense that a man like my father never says...

  That can’t be good. What does that fucking mean?

  I take a single step to trail after him but his retreating form is suddenly blocked by the appearance of someone else. A big smiling face flashes like an excited threat right in front of me. Brilliant bright blue eyes and long black hair matches my own almost perfectly.

  Except, I’ve never in my life been as genuinely happy as Heaven Von Hunter.

  “Sainky Wanky!” my twin sister coos as she throws her arms around me and crushes me against her lithe frame.

  Fuck. Maybe today can get worse.

  Four

  Izara

  I can’t take my eyes off of them as we walk into the gymnasium. His sister, Heaven, hasn’t stopped talking since she surprised him in the office. And he hasn’t stopped frowning since then either.

  “So you drink blood now?” Her lightning blue eyes flash from me to Saint and then back again.

  I don’t know why heat rises in my cheeks like she’s asking about something dirtier than drinking blood but it feels... it’s incredibly intimate what Saint did to me.

  I can’t even explain it.

  “No, I don’t drink blood,” Saint says flatly.

  “Then what’s this?” She swipes at a drop of blood against his throat and when she pops her finger in her mouth her eyes widen and she makes a humming sound that makes me shift back from the sharp fangs that are now adorning her mouth. “Shit, that’s good.” Her tongue slides back and forth across her teeth in the strangest way and suddenly Saint’s hard body is brushing mine as we walk, blocking me very intentionally from his sister.

  “Stop eating my crumbs. It’s fucking weird.”

  “You’re a piss poor sharer. Mom would be really disappointed in your manners, Sainky Wanky.”

  “Fucking stop calling me that.”

  I can’t help the smirk that tilts my lips, even if I’m slightly offended at being referred to as ‘crumbs’.

  I missed him so much.

  And this sensitive, embarrassed side of him, it’s intoxicating.

  Or maybe that's the leftover vampire hormones he filled my body with earlier.

  I’ve never thought of him the way I am now. He’s always been this teasing persona that I could never get close enough to understand.

  But I understand him now. At least, I think I do.

  I just can’t help but study him now in the dim lighting of the quiet gymnasium. The cross that etches along his throat points up to the strong angle of his jaw and there’s a hint of a smile in his features.

  He’s smiling. After everything. I wouldn’t have been able to withstand two weeks of haunting isolation. And I definitely wouldn’t have had the connections he has to get released.

  I would have died down there.

  But Saint saved me from that. There’s a loyalty in Saint that so few people will ever see in their entire life. He’s loyal to Phoenix... and I think he’s loyal to me.

  My arms slip around his broad shoulders before I can stop myself and his body becomes tense in posture for a moment before he relaxes against me and pulls me hard against his chest. He’s all solid strength and cool smooth skin. There isn’t one flaw on his perfect body. The script, the swirling lines, every tattoo is pristine art. Every inch of him is flawless.

  Everything I’ve been holding on to for the past couple of weeks just slips away as he melds against me.

  He’s safe. We’re safe. Everything is going to be just fine.

  “Isn’t that what got you in trouble the first time?” The hard edge of Phoenix’s words ring out through the empty gym, his voice alone sends tingling nervous and excited energy through me.

  Saint’s spine stiffens all over again beneath my hands and slowly we both turn to face the sound of the storm that’s brooding at the entry doors. The demon stands against the shining sunlight that’s peering through the glass and he’s so shadowed he looks ominous.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Saint says casuall
y.

  Oh, he knows. He’s just a conniving little shit that has to really make sure everyone is paying attention at all times.

  Or maybe he does it to distract us. Both us and him.

  The tapping of Phoenix’s shoes across the old floor is a slow stalking pace that brings him right in front of Saint, never once looking my way as I stand at their side.

  And Heaven, Heaven eats the confrontation up with that same manic attention her brother always has. She’s beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.

  Just like Saint.

  Two Von Hunter’s are going to completely destroy Academy of Six.

  “She’s trouble, Saint. You’re back now. Start again. There’s no reason to protect her. She’s more dangerous than anything walking these grounds.” Phoenix holds the vampire’s gaze for several seconds before he glances down to the breath that’s parting Saint’s lips. A few fingers on his right hand flex out as if he might touch the vampire’s arm but he doesn’t. He holds on to that obnoxious anger and rage like it’s the only thing he understands in life.

  To give it up, might make the man before me completely break.

  A smile slashes across Saint’s face at the short attention his friend gives his mouth. At the sight of the quiet amusement, Phoenix grips the vampire by his throat and pins him to the cylinder block wall, his hips holding him in place just as much as his hand is.

  It’s the strangest aggression I’ve ever seen.

  Because both of them are hard at the first contact of their bodies fully touching. The straining bulge beneath Phoenix’s pants grinds into Saint’s and his dark lashes flutter at the same time as his breath cuts short.

  “Maybe I want her protection.” Saint’s shoulders pull up in small careless shrug and the simple gesture sends uncontrollable anger shaking through the demon. He lifts Saint higher as if he might slam him hard to the ground but he lowers him, the vampire’s shoes touching gently to the floor before Phoenix releases one finger after the other ever so slowly.

  And Saint just stares up at him, his chin tilted just right so his words pass directly down Phoenix’s throat. “Four shifters beat the shit out of me that night. She put aside her fear and fucking ripped this place apart.” Saint leans closer until his mouth nearly brushes Phoenix’s and he whispers his next words like they’re pure sensual romance. “For me.” Then he pulls back and slips his hand into mine and walks away. I look back to find Phoenix’s flexed arms completely trembling with rage.