Dark Pact: A Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance (Her Dark Guardians Book 1) Read online

  Dark Pact

  Her Dark Guardians - Book One

  Alana Serra

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  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

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Stay Updated

  Also by Alana Serra

  Dark Pact © Alana Serra 2019.

  Amazon Kindle Edition.

  Edited by Mystique Editing.

  Cover design by Jacqueline Sweet.

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical reviews and articles.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The author has asserted his/her rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book.

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is suitable only for mature readers.

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  With huge thanks to my beta readers Erica and Michelle, as well as the entire Reverse Harem Readers & Authors Facebook group for being so welcoming to a new author.

  Chapter 1

  Rhiannon lingered by the largest table in the Blind Buck Tavern despite the fact that she’d already delivered the drinks.

  A group of nine men and women sat, chairs tucked close together to accommodate such large numbers, tankards sloshing freshly poured ale as they talked with exaggerated gestures. A fair assessment, Rhia thought, as she was sure the stories were also exaggerated. But they were entertaining, and so she didn’t mind. She merely listened with rapt attention, her gaze finding the most prominent speaker of the moment.

  “I can’t believe you went in there alone,” a woman groused, her accent placing her from the lands further south—a place Rhia had never been. Then again, she’d never been anywhere beyond Esrinas. “Five different signs condemning the place, saying it was infested and hazardous to humans, and this fucking idiot waltzes in anyway.”

  The woman who spoke was as beautiful as she was deadly, it seemed to Rhia. Her platinum blonde hair was done into a tight braid that traveled down the length of her back, and her tight leather jerkin stretched across a muscular torso, her arms bared and showing a lifetime of training with a sword—including a variety of nicks along her forearms to prove it.

  She was a captain of some kind in the guild, and every time she spoke, the others listened. All but the one she was addressing now.

  A mountain of a man with a bushy black beard and no hair atop his head grinned wildly at her, his eyes glimmering. He threw back the tankard, the frothy liquid spilling into his beard and down his chest. “You act as if I can read, Meliva,” he teased. “Unlike you, I spent my early years doing important things like fighting and fucking.”

  “Half of those signs were in pictures!” she exclaimed to a round of raucous laughter.

  Even Rhia smiled, the corner of her lips quirking upward. The man with the bushy beard caught her eye and she tried to school her features, but it was too late. He’d seen her, and she swore she saw his pupils dilate as though he’d just fixed upon his prey. Rhia lifted her chin, refusing to shrink under his regard. Even if a man like that could overpower her with ease.

  “You think that’s funny, little one?” he asked, his loud voice taking on a rough, almost husky tone.

  The rest of the table turned toward her and Rhia felt heat suffuse her cheeks. She hadn’t wanted to make a fuss. She’d honestly hoped they wouldn’t even notice. The rest of the tavern was always hanging upon their every word, so why not her? Swallowing, Rhia managed to find her voice.

  “It is, though only for the fact that you’re alive,” she said. “It might be slightly less funny if you were dead.”

  The woman with the blonde braid threw back her head and laughed, and that action seemed to give the others leave to do the same. Even the man who addressed her grinned, though she swore it was like looking into the maw of a smiling wolf, fangs poised to bite her in half.

  “I think the rest of these fools would find it much funnier were I dead, but then I wouldn’t be here to tell you all about why I went, would I?” He looked at the others, gesturing so widely that half his drink must have sloshed out. But when he spoke again, his gaze fell squarely on Rhia. “There’s nothing a man won’t do for a fine pair of tits.”

  She felt her body flush, adrenaline rushing through her blood. Someone else might have appreciated the attention, or at least been ambivalent toward it. But words like that, spoken with the aid of a lustful leer, reminded Rhia of the many times she’d been leered at in the past by men who knew she couldn’t reject their advances. She’d done it anyway, and had paid for it in bruises and broken bones. Such was the life of an orphan who’d sprouted breasts early on.

  It’d been worse before Desmond. Every man who’d ever set eyes on her had wanted to push her boundaries; had ignored her when she told them to stop. Had taken advantage of the fact that no one gave a damn about what happened to yet another girl on the street. Yet Desmond had stood up to them, even at great cost to himself. He’d nearly lost an eye for her, and still he defended her every time. He always had, and some silly part of her hoped he always would.

  She thought of him now, of his steady bright blue gaze, his golden lion’s mane of hair, his handsome features and sturdy form. It bolstered her, knowing he would look out for her. That he would care if something happened. And even if he wasn’t here right now, it helped Rhia firm up her own resolve. Her chin lifted just a bit higher, her jaw setting as she stared down the gargantuan man like she was some aristocratic lady.

  “Oh, relax, girl. I wouldn’t exactly call those bee stings of yours a fine pair of tits,” he said with a snort, even tossing his head as though he were an agitated beast.

  “You’re just mad because she isn’t falling at your feet begging you to suck on them,” another man said, the taunt accompanied by jeering.

  “She would be, if she knew half of what I did in that mine,” he said with a wild, unsettling grin. “I’ll bet none of you lot have ever fucked a spider queen.”

  Rhia’s gut churned, her mind recoiling from the very image of that. She’d seen enough illustrations to know that he must be speaking of the Arachni line of noble spiders who were half human, half spider. Fearsome things, the thought sending a shiver down Rhia’s spine. She still didn’t want to hazard a guess about how they… how a human man could…

 
No. She wasn’t going to think about it. He was being boastful, as they all were. It was a common occurrence at this tavern, which was part of why she’d chosen to work there despite the pay being worse than nearly anywhere else in the city. Being around members of the Adventurers’ Guild, hearing their stories and the creatures they fought to keep the armies of evil at bay, Rhia hoped all of it would one day play into her own training. If they knew her face, knew her name, she’d have an easier time once she scraped together the money for the academy.

  Because unfortunately, the guild didn’t accept poor tavern maids who knew the proper way to clean a tankard with steaming hot water so that it didn’t reek the next day. She’d have to have something to set her apart. While Desmond was handy with a sword and an excellent leader, Rhia’s talents ran somewhat toward magic. A raw affinity for it had manifested in her at an early age. She just needed the money to actually afford proper training.

  Then she would be at that table, and some other wide-eyed girl would be serving her as she effortlessly bantered with even the most obnoxious adventurers.

  “I’m not paying you to stand around, girl!” came a snarled warning from behind the bar.

  Rhia shrank a little, her daydream dissipating as a jolt of reality collided with it. She wasn’t there yet. At the rate she was paid, she likely wouldn’t be there anytime soon, and less so if she lost her job because she was too busy listening to the stories of the actual adventurers. She hurried back to the bar to collect another round of drinks, keeping her head down at the hard stare of her employer, Bertram.

  He might not have salivated over her like a starved dog, but he could be cruel in his own way. She’d not told Desmond of the time she’d come to see him with bruises covering her face, one eye swollen shut after the coffers had come up short for the day. Desmond would have marched over and taken a swing at the man, she was sure of it. Then he would’ve been jailed, she’d be out of a job, and they’d both be that much further from their dream.

  “Sorry, sir,” Rhia said. “It won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t.” His lips were drawn back in a sneer, his tone cruel. It should have given her some idea as to what was coming next, yet Rhia was still surprised by it. “And you could stand to undo those laces. No one comes here to look at girls who are wrapped up tighter than a priestess’ cunt.”

  She paled, glancing down at the bodice she wore. It was already tight, made to accentuate the curves of her body. She’d known, of course, that it was to entice the customers who might be attracted to her. She’d accepted that, as much as Desmond hated that she had to parade herself around in hopes of having a coin or two shoved into her shirt. But she’d always kept the front tightly laced, because to undo even the top was to allow her breasts more freedom than she was comfortable with.

  Still, Rhia did it, because if she didn’t, she was going to lose her job on the spot. She was sure of that.

  Fortunately, the rest of the patrons were too engaged with the story of the spider queen to pay her much mind. There were a few more stares. One man smacked her ass as she walked past. But for the most part, it was a mild night, and something she was grateful for. That and the fact that Bertram had decided to leave early, entrusting the closing of the tavern to his more mild-mannered brother who barely seemed to notice her existence.

  If Rhia had been the type to steal, she would have gotten away with it then. He dozed behind the bar, barely rousing to pour drinks, and she wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t been the one to raid the day’s coin in the past. For right now, though, he was just a harmless little gift that helped Rhia get through her evening that much easier.

  By two in the morning, the tavern was largely empty save for a few stragglers from the large table before. The bearded man was passed out and snoring loudly, and the blonde woman, Meliva, spoke softly to another man who’d only had eyes for her the entire night. As Rhia took a rag to one of the empty tables nearby, she caught the woman motioning out of the corner of her eye.

  “Come over here, girl,” she called, her voice surprisingly warm.

  She eyed the bearded man warily, and the woman laughed.

  “Don’t mind him. He’ll be out ‘til morning, even after I drag his ass back to the hovel he calls a home.” Rhia smiled and approached, hating that she’d been made to feel like some timid mouse when she was hardly that. “What’s your name, girl?”

  “Rhiannon,” she said on reflex, “but everyone just calls me Rhia.”

  “Rhia.” She spoke it slowly, as if trying out the feel of it. “I know Bertram can’t possibly pay you enough to make this place any better than the bigger taverns, so why are you here?”

  “I…” Keen blue eyes were fixed on her, and Rhia felt compelled to tell the truth. “I like the stories.”

  “Half of which are utter shite,” the woman said with a grin. “I guarantee you Othol here got webbed the second he pulled his cock out. He’s only here to lie about it because someone else saved his arse. That’s the life of an adventurer. You narrowly make it out intact—or don’t,” she gestured to a deep scar on the side of her jaw, “and you come back to the safety of whatever city will have you and lie your arse off about your heroics.”

  “Everyone exaggerates,” Rhia said. “Life would be ridiculously boring if we didn’t.”

  Meliva grinned almost wolfishly at her. “That it would. And I can tell you don’t like boring. I see that gleam in your eyes, Rhia. That hunger. You’re not here for stories, are you? You’re here to learn.”

  A prickle of heat flared through Rhia, her embarrassment swift and sudden. Was she that obvious? Goddess, she must look a child to this woman. Wide-eyed, open-mouthed, crawling across the floor in hopes of catching a shred of attention from those who were doing what she could not.

  “Can you hold a sword?” She gave Rhia an appraising look. “No, too scrawny for that. You might make a good rogue.”

  “I know some magic,” she blurted out, immediately wincing once the words left her mouth.

  Magic wasn’t forbidden in Restikar—far from it. Those who could use it were celebrated, their skills highly coveted. But typically such powers only manifested in noble lines, or in the dynasties of sorcerers who’d headed the Adventurers’ Guild for centuries. They were taught to harness it from a young age, taught to hone their potential into something they could use with any reliability.

  Rhia certainly wasn’t a noble, nor was she trained, and her magic was far from reliable.

  “Do you really?” the woman asked, her thin brows lifting. “Well now, that’s interesting. The guild could always use more sorcerers—especially healers.” Rhia held her breath, unsure where all of this was going. Afraid to hope. “You’ll need training, I suspect.”

  The blonde-haired woman fished around in her coin purse. Throughout the evening, Rhia had seen her put down more money than she’d ever possessed in her lifetime. Not even copper, which would have easily covered the cost of her drink. She’d placed a few silver pieces on the bar to pay for their service, and had bet even more as the group engaged in silly little contests.

  Now she took out not just one, but three gold pieces and held them out to Rhia. She gaped, staring at the gleaming coin.

  “I don’t—”

  “Training’s expensive, and you’ll need someplace to stay if you’re going to devote all of your time to it.” She nudged her hand closer to Rhia’s. “Go on. Take it. You can pay me back once you’re admitted to the guild. I could use someone to follow me around and heal my sorry arse.”

  Meliva flashed a grin, but Rhia was still fixed on the coins she now held in her hand. Three gold was more than she’d make in a year, easily. It was more than most people made in a year. With three gold, she could pay for training, a decent apartment, more than enough food. She could even get some new clothing beyond the threadbare clothes she owned. Maybe a proper robe, or a nice dress…

  It felt silly to think of such frivolous things now, but for a girl who�
�d grown up wanting for nearly everything she saw other people have, the whole world had just opened up.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked, finally turning her wide-eyed gaze to the woman.

  She sat back in her chair, her arm draped across the back of it as she regarded Rhia. “Because in all the time I’ve been coming here, I’ve seen you leered at, propositioned, pawed at, and degraded. I’ve seen Bertram tear you to shreds for the tiniest things, and I’ve seen those shiners you sport when you and he disappear for a few minutes to the side room.”

  Rhia winced, shame settling over her in a nauseating wash of memory. What must this woman think of her? She looked so strong, so capable. She could likely break men like Bertram in half without even having to exert herself.

  “Through it all,” she continued, “you keep showing up. You’re here every night, working your arse off, putting up with what you can stomach and pulling yourself away from the things you can’t. And anyone who’s able to endure that, night after night, must have a damn good reason. So if yours is to join us at this table one day, then from where I’m sitting, you’d make a fine addition.”

  She stared wide-eyed at the woman, every instinct in her expecting this to be a joke. Some cruel trick where she was going to be crushed under the weight of what society expected from her, laughed at by those who had more of a right to adventuring than she. But Meliva wasn’t laughing. The smile on her lips was soft; genuine. She looked as serious as Rhia had ever seen her.

  “Don’t make me regret it,” Meliva said, giving Rhia’s arm a single pat before she drained what was left of her drink and hauled Othol effortlessly to his feet, dragging him away.

  Chapter 2

  It wasn’t the first time Rhia had snuck into the barracks in the middle of the night, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

  She knew there was a risk if she was caught. Women weren’t supposed to be in this wing of the barracks to begin with. It was strictly forbidden for guards to bring girls to their rooms, though Desmond had told her he’d heard his brothers in arms break that rule many times. He would be punished if his captain found her, though, and people would talk about what she was doing here.