Rejecting Fate: Reverse Harem Serial - Part Three (Fated Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Please continue reading for a sneak peek at A Demon’s Debt, book two of the Desdemona Chronicles

  A Demon’s Debt - Chapter One

  Rejecting Fate

  Fated Part Three

  By Cece Rose

  Rejecting Fate Copyright © 2017 Cece Rose.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  Cover Design by Arizona Type Designs.

  Table of Contents

  Rejecting Fate

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Please continue reading for a sneak peek at A Demon’s Debt, book two of the Desdemona Chronicles

  A Demon’s Debt - Chapter One

  About the Author

  Other Titles by the Author

  Author’s Note

  For the ones who know a group of authors should always be called a flock. This is for you, flockers.

  Warning

  This e-book contains strong violence, sexual scenes, and adult language.

  This e-book is intended for adult readers only.

  If you’re easily offended or have delicate sensibilities, put down your e-reader and back away slowly. You may also wish to consider avoiding the internet, I hear that’s pretty damn obscene too.

  Authors Note

   I write in UK English. So, colour rather than color, realise rather than realize, travelled rather than traveled, and learnt rather than learned. I’m not illiterate, just British!

  *Waves at the Americans from across the pond*

  P.S. Please stop sending pop-tarts. My house is legitimately filled with pop-tarts. I give up my wardrobe space to store pop-tarts. I sleep with pop-tarts in my bed. I even shower with pop-tarts filled in the bath. I have come to accept, there is such a thing, as having too much of a good thing. Paha! <3

  Prologue

  Erik

  “What the fuck do you want?” I growl down the phone. I can hear heavy breathing down the other end of the line, which is unusual, Cyrus is normally not one to lose his calm. Right now, I can practically hear the tension in his heavy breaths. But, what reason could he possibly have for losing his calm now? He has everything. He has her.

  “I need your help,” he finally answers. I can hear the reluctance in his voice.

  “Go to hell, Cyrus. I want nothing more to do with you, your pack, or any other shifters for that matter. I’m leaving for Seelie on the next crossover, and I intend to stay there.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “No, you don’t understand. I don’t want anything to do with you or your drugs. I especially don’t want a part in whatever fuck-fest of a war is going to break out now that everyone knows the truth. I’m done.”

  “Erik!” he shouts down the line, the authoritative tone in his voice doing nothing but pissing me off even more.

  “I’m not a part of your pack anymore, so don’t try and pull that Alpha shit with me.”

  “You’ve got this all wrong,” he growls.

  “‘Wrong’? You don’t know the meaning of ‘wrong’. Something clearly got fucked up in that head of yours,” I snap. I slam my fist into the wall beside me, the tension coiling within me bursting out in rage.

  “What was that?” his voice speaks softly this time.

  “None of your business. I’m done. Goodbye, Cyrus,” I say. I pull the phone away from my ear and go to hang up.

  “It’s about Lena.” I catch his words just as I’m about to hit the button. I sigh and pull the phone up to my ear again.

  “I don’t care. That’s your problem now, deal with it. Tell Selena I say ‘hi’, or that ‘she can go to hell’, that works too.”

  “I can’t fucking tell her anything, you idiot. She’s not fucking here.”

  My breath catches, and then I laugh. She didn’t stay with him.

  “Erik, she didn’t leave,” he adds. My laughter cuts off. What else could have happened?

  “Someone else has Lena.”

  “That’s ominous,” I mutter. “Still not my problem, though.” Again, I go to end the call.

  “Let me rephrase that, someone who fucking beat her into unconsciousness has Lena.”

  My finger pauses over the end call icon again.

  “What the fuck did you just say?”

  6 weeks earlier…

  Chapter One

  Selena

  I pull my phone out and check the time again. 01:38AM. He’s already an hour and a half late. I nervously cast my eyes around Shiftz. Why did he have to insist on meeting here? I again flick through our text messages. Erik was fucking pissed, but surely not mad enough to risk getting caught by Cyrus. I pause over the text explaining that Shiftz was safe tonight, a different one of the three owners is in. One that apparently, was extremely mad at Aisa for breaching club rules. Shiftz works because it’s neutral, to take a side was to ruin the whole philosophy of the place. Or so Erik said, anyway.

  I sip at my drink, considering whether or not I should keep waiting, and beginning to fear something may have happened to Erik. My phone buzzes drawing me out of my morbid thoughts.

  Sorry, something happened. On my way now, I’ll explain when I get there. See you in fifteen.

  At least I know he’s still coming. I sigh, reaching for my drink again.

  “Lena, isn’t it?” I look up at the owner of the deep voice, Adrian. “Fancy seeing you here again, you left in quite a rush yesterday.”

  “Yeah, I did. Sorry about that,” I answer. I attempt to look busy on my phone, hoping he’ll go away. However, he doesn’t seem to get the message. He slides into the booth across from me, and pushes a drink towards me. I swear shifters have no sense of tact or personal space. “Look–” I begin.

  “Relax, you’re pretty, but I can also tell when someone’s not interested. I’m not here to seduce you,” he interrupts me softly, humour lacing his voice.

  “Then what are you here for?” I ask, looking up at him.

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?”

  “I don’t have any enemies,” I mutter.

  “It sure as hell didn’t look like you were on the best of terms with the local wolf pack.”

  “I don’t think that’s any of your concern.” I narrow my eyes at him. “What’s your game, what do you want?”

  “I want Cyrus Hunter dead.” He pauses, assessing my face for a reaction. I try to keep my face a blank mask. He shrugs and then adds, “And, I want you to help me do it.”

  I stare at him for a moment, seeing the deadly expression on his face, and then I laugh. I laugh so hard, I draw concerned looks from the people around us.

  H
e frowns and goes to say something, but he’s cut off by a delicate hand being laid on his shoulder. Bright-red nails, with sharp, perfectly manicured, pointed tips. I look up the arm to see the owner of the hand. Long, curled, jet-black locks of hair cascade down her shoulders, pouting red lips, and her pale-white skin shows through the lace of her black dress. But her eyes draw my attention the most, I notice the woman is blind, her blue eyes are pale and unfocused.

  “Aisa,” Adrian chokes out. “I didn’t think it was your night.”

  “No, it isn’t. But I just had to meet Selena. How could I allow her to come into my club, not once, but twice, without introducing myself?” Her voice is sweet and light, not at all how I expected.

  “You’re here for Lena?” he asks, I can hear the relief in his tone.

  “Yes, I have some things which I’d very much like to discuss with her.”

  I move as quietly as possible to try and leave the booth without her noticing, hoping the music will overpower any sounds I make. Adrian shakes his head slightly, as if in warning. Just as I stand properly, a pair of large hands clamp down onto my shoulders. I look around and see the burly doorman from yesterday and gulp. Fuck.

  “Yes, I do think having our conversation out here is rather inappropriate. Let’s go to my office. I assume that was where you were leaving to go. Wasn’t it, Selena dear?” she asks.

  “Yeah, sure it was,” I mutter.

  “Adrian, dear, would you care to join us?” He casts his eyes between the two of us, and then shrugs, feigning nonchalance. The concern is clear in his eyes however, giving him away.

  “In for a penny, I suppose.”

  “This way then. And, Selena dear?”

  “Errr . . . yes?” I mumble.

  “Try to run, and Fredrick here will snap your neck. Come along now.”

  I shoot a wide-eyed look at Adrian, and he ever so helpfully gestures his head towards the roped off stairs, as if my biggest concern is not knowing where the office is. Fantastic. Just fucking great.

  * * *

  “Tea?” Aisa asks calmly. We’re sitting on cushions surrounding a low, wooden table, Aisa on one side, Adrian and I on the other. We stare silently at her. Tea? Is she serious? “Come on now, it’s not poisoned. We can be civilised, yes?”

  “Err . . . I guess,” I mumble. I lick my lips nervously as I cast my gaze around the room, taking in the mix-match of cultures that seem to make up the style of the room.

  The table is Japanese, and the chandelier above us decidedly French. The artwork screams Italian Renaissance, and the deep-purple and red curtains–draped down from the ceiling, covering across two of the walls–look like something you’d find in the Middle East. A long table sits along one side of the room, on it are several pieces of Greek-style pottery. The pottery looks old, but in great condition.

  “Selena dear, I do apologise for my actions yesterday. I was only testing a theory,” Aisa says, her voice drawing my attention back to her, as I notice her push cups of tea toward myself and Adrian.

  “What? I don’t understand,” I reply, frowning. “What theory?”

  “You don’t know what I am?” she asks, a smile forming on her face as I shake my head. “I suppose I can see why Erik would choose to keep that from you, considering the confusion surrounding your fate.”

  “What are you?” I ask, the question burning inside me.

  “A Fate, one of three.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Adrian clears his throat, drawing my attention to him. “Have you heard of the Greek fates?” I shake my head, unfamiliar with mythology. “There’s one to spin the thread of life, one to measure it, and one to do the inevitable and cut it. Together they’re called the Moirai.”

  “I don’t see what this has to do with Aisa?” I question.

  “I’m getting there, darlin’. So, the Romans had their version too, the Parcae. As do lots of other cultures, the Norns, the Matres, but I suppose the names don’t matter so much. Aisa is the Inevitable Fate, she cuts the thread of life,” he finishes, running a hand through his wild hair.

  “You want me to believe that an ancient being, who is basically a God, runs a nightclub in London?”

  “It does sound a little ridiculous when you put it like that,” he answers, cringing slightly at the sharp look he gets from Aisa.

  “We have done a great many things over the years. We are always where we are meant to be. This is where we are currently meant to be, and what we are currently meant to be doing,” Aisa answers calmly.

  “Okay, so let’s say that’s true. What would a fate want with me?”

  “My sisters did not spin, nor measure out your thread of life. I cannot see where to cut it.”

  Adrian looks at me like I’m an alien.

  “What does that mean? And what were you testing?”

  “I was intervening. I wanted to see if by altering the course of events and moving Cyrus toward you, whether an end would become clear for you. However, it has not. You remain a mystery.”

  “You were trying to work out how I’d die?” I ask, I feel my mouth go dry and fidget with the hem of my shirt.

  “Yes. I thought perhaps Cyrus would have a connection with your death, as he has with a great deal of others. I was wrong, or maybe it’s still yet to be decided. I do not know. I find that I quite enjoy the mystery of not knowing. You shroud those around you, too. Wherever their lives interlink with yours, they vanish from our sights.”

  A question forms in my mind. I bite on my lip, trying to keep it in, but my inquisitive side wins out. “If you’re a powerful fate, why are you blind?” I ask.

  Adrian sucks in a shocked breath. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked?

  “I wasn’t always blind. I lost my sight 200 years ago, a punishment. It takes most by surprise; I see everything, and yet, I see nothing. A beautiful irony, is it not?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say softly, feeling rude.

  “Don’t be. I appreciate your candidness. I wish to try and build a bigger picture of you, mysteries like you demand to be solved. If my sister did not spin your thread, who did? There are few who could have done such a thing. Even fewer who could keep such a thing from us.”

  “Spin, thread, fate? This is all way over my head. I’m just me, just Lena. I like coffee, binging television shows, and going out with my bestie. I’m also apparently now a wolf shifter, that doesn’t actually shift. And I have a psychopathic werewolf mate, plus my best friend in the world is missing, so that’s enough drama for now. If there’s more to me that’s a mystery, I don’t want to solve it.”

  “But others do wish to figure you out, Selena. Who doesn’t like a puzzle?”

  “I’m, personally, not such a fan of puzzles,” Adrian interrupts, drawing our focus to him. “I think I should go. This isn’t really to do with me, is it?” he adds.

  “You may leave, Adrian James Locke, but it’s already too late to not be involved,” Aisa says softly, gesturing to the door.

  “What do you mean?” the words fly out of his mouth.

  “Your fate has already faded into Selena’s shroud. I know not how your life ends, and I suspect my sister would not be able to measure it either.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” he mutters, standing. He shoots me a glare, as if I’m somehow to blame for all this. Maybe I am? He exits the room quickly, slamming the door behind him.

  “Selena, dear, you may leave too. I am needed elsewhere. I do hope we see each other again. I enjoy surprises, and so very little surprises me.”

  I quickly stand and rush for the door after Adrian.

  “Selena?” she calls after me.

  “Yeah?” I call over my shoulder, as I reach the door.

  “Cyrus isn’t a psychopath. Perhaps you should consider hearing him out?” she says.

  “Thanks for the advice. Goodbye, Aisa.”

  “Goodbye, Selena.”

  Thanks, but no thanks.

  Chapter Two

  "Adrian! Adria
n, slow down!" I shout after him. I race down the stairs following him. I have questions, and he has the answers. I need to speak to him. He keeps moving, not even looking over his shoulder. Fucking ass. I follow him across the dance floor, up another set of metal stairs and out of the club.

  As I step outside, I look around. Where the fuck did he— My chain of thought is cut off as I'm tugged around a corner and slammed into a wall. Shit. I look up and open my mouth to speak. Adrian's hand covers my mouth. He makes a shush gesture, and slowly moves his hand back.

  "Give me one good reason I shouldn't scream?" I whisper.

  "You want to know why I want Cyrus dead, don't you?" he asks, guessing correctly the first time. I chew on my lip, contemplating what he says, before nodding. "Good. If you want to talk, we should go somewhere more private."

  "Fine, I need to text Erik quickly," I mumble.

  Adrian peers around the corner, and visibly relaxes. "No need."

  Erik strolls around the corner, his face is a calm mask, but his normally cool, intelligent eyes look furious. And, he's glaring those furious eyes at me. Oh fuck off, is he blaming this all on me?

  "Selena," he greets coldly, leaning against the wall casually.

  "Erik, I'm—"

  "Sorry for running off? Sorry for disappearing when we were supposed to meet? Sorry for being such an idiot and following this idiot outside to hear his idiotic plan?"

  "Okay, fuck you. I was going to say sorry for getting caught up with Aisa and not being there. But, you can seriously fuck off if you think I'm apologising for running off. I heard your conversation with Jace. You were going to drug me, you asshole!"

  "You don't understand, I was just–" Erik begins.

  Adrian clears his throat. "Any chance you two can save your domestic dispute for later? Are you coming with, Lena, or what?"

  "Yes."

  "Hell no."

  I glare at Erik. "You don't get to make my choices for me. I figure I showed you how I feel about that," I snap.