Water: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (Four Worlds Book 1)

  Water

  Four Worlds Book One

  Helen Scott

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Find Helen on Social Media

  Other Works by Helen Scott

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Daughter of Persephone

  Cerberus Book One

  Copyright © 2018 by Helen Scott

  Cover Design © Natasha Snow

  Editing by Courtney Umphress

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the brief use of quotations in a book review.

  This book is intended for adults only. The sexual activities represented in this book are a work of fiction intended for adults. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously by the author. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  1

  Tessa

  My ears twitched at the sound of claws tapping across the floor. I froze, my fingers hovering over the keys as my ears focused, trying to hear the sound again. My eyes stayed on the screen in front of me, or at least they appeared to. In reality I was searching my peripheral vision for the telltale purple strands that I always saw when the noise whispered in my ear.

  I saw a dark flash out of the corner of my eye and had to fight not to turn toward it. Experience had taught me that as soon as I did, it would stop, and everything I could have learned from it would vanish. The ring on my right hand warmed on my finger to the point that any other person would probably wince, but I was used to it, for the most part. Without hesitation my hand darted into my backpack, which was resting against the leg of the table, and pulled out my sketch pad.

  As soon as the notebook was in front of me I pulled the pen loose that I had clipped to the spiral binding and open to the next blank page, which I had marked with a paperclip for exactly this moment. My hand moved over the paper as though I was in a dream, each line being scratched into existence by black ink.

  I started with the purple. It always appeared in filaments that seemed to reach out and try to grab on to whatever was closest, as though they were trying to pull themselves into reality. I knew that whenever they appeared I would have another sighting. My eyes were trained on the screen once more but that’s not what I was looking at as the creature came into view.

  This was a new one, I hadn’t seen it before. It scurried along the table on the far side of the computer lab. The first thing I always tried to get down was facial features, what kind of horns it had, if it had one of those weird neck frilly things, visible ears or just holes in its head, any tusks or protruding fangs, that kind of thing. After that I focused on the wings, how big they were and if they had claws on the ends, then the tail, and finally the legs and the rest of its body. I also tried to note the size if it was significantly different from the others, but I rarely saw any bigger than a cat or small dog.

  I had been seeing these creatures ever since I was old enough to notice them flickering out of the corner of my eye. It took years of practice, learning what was a trigger for them disappearing and what wasn’t, before I was able to finally sketch one. The first time I did I was stunned to realize what they looked like as whole beings.

  In my peripheral vision they always looked slightly blurry and as though they weren’t really there, except for the parts I was focusing on, which made nailing down what they were hard as a kid. Now I knew, and although part of me thought I was slowly losing my mind, I couldn’t help but draw them. It was a compulsion everywhere I went, no matter what I was doing, if I saw one I sketched it.

  “Cool drawing, Tess,” a male voice startled me as my ring flared to life once more. On instinct I glanced over my shoulder, before turning back to where the creature had been. It was gone, of course, I knew it would be as soon as the spell was broken. Part of me was relieved as I looked down at my drawing, I had got most of the important parts documented.

  A strong hand came over my shoulder and snatched the pad of paper from my grip. I jumped up, my eyes focused on the only thing that mattered, my sketchbook. It had years upon years of drawings in there, and I wasn’t about to lose it to some jackass.

  “I didn’t know you were so into dragons,” Brok said as he stood there flipping through the pages of my drawings as though he was entitled to see into my life.

  “Give it back, asshole,” I ground out.

  “Awww, come on, Tess, what’s a little dragon art between friends?” He asked as he threw his arm over my shoulders.

  “It’s Tessa, and we’re not friends. We were randomly assigned partners in a shitty art history class, which as soon as I turn this paper in, is over, thank god.” I snatched the sketchbook away from him and hugged it to my chest.

  “Anyone would think you don’t like me,” he sneered.

  “That’s because I don’t.” I sighed and shrugged out of his hold.

  “I thought we had talked about this,” he said giving me his best puppy dog eyes. “You can’t repress feelings like this, it’s not healthy.”

  A shiver skated down my spine while he watched me with eyes that were a slate gray and devoid of any real emotion. He shoved a hand through his tawny hair and grinned at me. It was a practiced move, one that I was sure had most women weak in the knees for him.

  “You know, I can tell when you’re checking me out. Why don’t we just go grab a drink or something?”

  I snorted, “Yeah, that’s never gonna happen.”

  It wasn’t that he was hard on the eyes, quite the opposite, he was what everyone seemed to consider handsome, the good, all-American boy who played football and loved his mama. The problem was I knew it was an act. Also, he just didn’t appeal to me, maybe it was the lack of emotion in his eyes, the way they always seemed to be calculating or judging, neither of which were my jam.

  “Why do you have to be such a bitch all the time?” he scowled.

  “Because you won’t take no for an answer. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I’m not interested before you get it through that jock head of yours.”

  I turned back to my computer and hit save on the paper we were supposed to be writing together for our final project. Everyone else in the lab had left, probably headed to the bars, or something similar. There was exactly zero part of me that wanted to be alone in a room with Brok. The only thing quelling my nerves in that moment was the fact that people were still meandering through the hallways every now and again. The simple fact of the matter was that he gave me the heebie-jeebies. It was like there was something off about him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what.

  “All this is because I’m a jock?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “Give me a chance, I’m not just a basketball player, you know? I work hard in my classes and have other interests than sports.”


  I sighed and turned to face him after I pulled the flash drive from the back of the computer, just in time to catch him staring at my ass. “It’s not because you’re a basketball player… I’m just not seeing anyone right now,” I ended weakly. All my bluster had fled, even though I knew I should have had the balls to really drive the point home and make him see once and for all that I wasn’t in to him.

  “Why not?” he asked, stepping closer.

  I grabbed my backpack and shoved it between us as I awkwardly stuffed notebooks into it. “Because it’s senior year and I’m looking for a real job, not one that I have to take to follow some guy around. Why would anyone start a relationship right now? It’s one of the most turbulent times in our lives.”

  “What if I followed you?” he asked, making my stomach churn with nerves.

  I took a deep breath and tried to hammer the point home. “Let it go, man. We are never going to happen. The only reason you are even interested is because I didn’t fawn all over you like the other girls. I know I’m just some weirdo that you want to use to put another notch on your bedpost, but that’s not how I roll, okay?” I started to zip up my backpack and pushed past him.

  He reached out and grabbed my bicep, forcing me to spin and face him. The speed of the movement scared me and the strength of it had my backpack flying open in my hands and my notebooks flopping all over the floor.

  “Let me go, Brok,” I said, trying to stay as calm as I could.

  “No. Not until you agree to go on a date with me,” he said, his cold eyes skating over my body.

  “You can’t force people to date you!” My voice was getting louder, and I prayed that it was drawing attention from the other people in the building.

  “Just say yes!”

  “I’ve told you no a hundred times or more. What makes you think it’s going to change this time?”

  “Fall down seven times, get up eight. That’s what coach always says.”

  “But he’s talking about basketball, not dating!” I pulled on my arm as I spoke, but his grip was firm.

  “You can apply it to anything. If at first you don’t succeed try, try again. Didn’t your mama ever teach you that?” He frowned at me as he spoke as though he was truly confused as to why this wasn’t working.

  “People have free will and you have to accept their answers. I don’t want to go on a date with you. I don’t want to see you outside of the classroom. And I certainly don’t want to be held here against my will by you. Let me go home and we’ll forget this happened. I’ll finish the paper and get it turned in by the weekend.”

  “Forget the paper, I’m passing Art History anyway, you think I care about my final grade in a dumb required elective?”

  “I’m a graphic design major! This is what I care about! Now, let me go.” I hadn’t meant to yell at him, but my temper was flaring out of control.

  The detached, emotionless stare seemed to spread from his eyes over his face as he pushed me over to the wall. There was only a sliver of open space next to a table full of computers, but he crammed me into it, pulling my arm across my body so I had nowhere to turn.

  Fear flooded my body as my fight or flight instinct kicked in. I was definitely a person that was of the flight variety, but Brok was more of the fight variation. All I had to do was get away from him long enough to get out of the door, then I could at least find someone to help me retrieve my stuff.

  I swung my knee up hard and fast, hitting the delicate target of his balls and pushing against him with everything I had. As soon as I had enough room I scooted away from the wall and ran to the door. I didn’t want to be that girl from the horror movie that trips and falls because she’s looking back over her shoulder, but dammit I couldn’t help it.

  As I sped to the door I glanced back, just to make sure he wasn’t following, and saw that he was down on the ground, clutching himself as though someone was trying to steal the family jewels. It was that moment though, that split second that I took to look over my shoulder, when I ran into something hard. I knew I had been heading for the door, so I doubted that it was the wall or door frame because it wasn’t rock solid. Large male hands gripped me by the elbows and turned me around, so I was out in the hallway.

  “Everything okay, miss?” a deep voice said while I just kept staring straight ahead, wondering what fresh hell I’d found myself in.

  When he let me go I stumbled backward, tripping on thin air and landing on my ass. As I looked up, and up, and up, I eventually found a pair of rich, brown eyes that seemed to burn with an intensity I wasn’t used to, especially not after staring into Brok’s eyes.

  A hand extended toward me with an offer to help me up. Deep bronze skin clasped around my own as the owner of the hand helped pull me to my feet. A set of pearly white teeth flashed through a quick smile that was surrounded by a cleanly shaped five o’clock shadow. That and the two slashes of eyebrows were the only hair from the neck up on the man who seemed to be trying to save me.

  “You okay?” he repeated, his gravelly voice holding an accent I didn’t recognize.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” I said, releasing his hand and dusting myself off.

  “Is that your stuff?” he asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to my spilled notebooks.

  I nodded, unsure what to say about what had just happened between Brok and I.

  “And is that your doing?” He pointed at the man-child still curled into fetal position on the floor.

  I straightened my spine and looked him dead in the eye, at least as much as I was able given the height difference between us, as I said, “Yep. I’ll leave you in a similar state if you get handsy.”

  The guys lips twitched, and I knew he wanted to laugh at my declaration. Brok might have been a basketball player, but this guy looked like a damn MMA fighter. The strange thing was I didn’t feel threatened, I didn’t feel that shiver run down my spine that I had associated with way too many men the last few semesters.

  He raised his hands and his face turned serious. “I hear you. You won’t have any trouble from me. Want some help picking up your stuff?”

  “That’d be great, thanks,” I sighed and walked into the room with a guy who looked like The Rock at my back.

  This was not how I was supposed to be finishing out the semester. My new guardian picked up not only my sketchbook, but my notes on the project for class as well. His eyes skimmed over the paper as I tried not to yank it out of his hands.

  “Gender and Sexuality in Modern American Art and Advertising. Some light reading, huh?”

  “It’s our final project,” I muttered.

  “And dragons?”

  “Sketching is a hobby,” I shrugged, trying to play it off. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of it, but most people got a little weird when they found out that I obsessively drew dragons and the need could hit anytime and anywhere.

  “You’re good,” he said as he flipped through the pages of my sketchbook.

  “Thanks,” I said as I reached for it. I’d had my personal space invaded quite enough for one night, thank you very much.

  “What’s your inspiration?” he asked. His tone was casual, but there was an intensity in his eyes that spoke of a deeper yearning to understand.

  “Don’t try talking to her about her art, she’ll just knee you in the balls,” Brok croaked from the floor where he was finally starting to pull himself together.

  “That… that’s not what happened—” I spluttered.

  “I know,” he said. I raised my eyebrows, had he just been listening to us the whole time? Why didn’t he intervene sooner? “I could hear you as I was walking down the hall. I guess, I was hoping to be a knight in shining armor, but it doesn’t look like you needed saving after all, princess.” Part of me wanted to be offended by the nickname, but I knew he didn’t mean it like that, his tone was full of admiration, not pity.

  “I can take care of myself,” I huffed.

  Once all my stuff was gathered I turned to leave and ca
ught The Rock staring daggers at Brok. It was the kind of look that said if the man-child even twitched in a way that he didn’t like he’d come down on him like a ton of bricks. I appreciated the sentiment and the backup.

  “Thank you,” I said, breaking whatever staring contest Brok and this dude had going on.

  “Can I walk you to your dorm?” he asked.

  “I live off campus, but thanks.”

  “At least let me escort you out of the building.”

  “Sure, that’d be nice,” I said, hugging my sketchbook tight against my chest.

  The two of us turned to leave and he said, “My name is Finn, by the way. Finn Blackmoth.”

  I shook his outstretched hand. “Tessa Morningstar.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at my last name, like everyone did when they first heard it. It was just a name though, it didn’t mean anything, which was a phrase I found myself believing less and less as my life went on.

  2

  Finn

  The caretaker I had been tracking had been in the room with Tessa and that waste of space human, I just knew it. The concentration of them in this area was unusual, but it might mean that the Key was close. Now, if I could only figure out what it looked like I would be able to get back to my own realm, and not have to spend too much longer in this magic deprived one.

  I caught Tessa looking at me from the corner of her eye a couple times as I walked her out of the building. There was something unusual about her that not even her oversized black hoodie could hide, and it wasn’t just the way her eyes were two different colors. It was almost as if there was a haze around her, like heat coming off a fire.