“You want to help me with this?” Ethan asked, bumping his hip against mine. The kitchen was small enough that it could have been an accident, but I knew it was on purpose. He was nodding towards the sauce he had bubbling on the stove, thick and brown and filling the room with a heavenly, savory scent.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I replied, picking up the spoon and stirring a couple of times to keep it from sticking.

Ethan wound his arms around me from behind, hooking his chin over my shoulder and turning his head so he could brush his mouth against my neck. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting him play me, and the hand on my belly began to move downward, and suddenly the sauce was the last thing on my mind…

“Hey!”

Rafe’s voice came from the living room, insistent and loud. I opened my eyes once more, and Ethan groaned quietly and unhooked himself from me reluctantly.

“I suppose you better go and check what’s up with him,” he conceded, picking up the spoon.

“I guess I better,” I agreed, and planted a quick kiss on his jaw, letting him know that our little moment was simply postponed and not forgotten. I made my way to the living room, where Rafe was propped up on a chair in front of the fire.

“Can I help you, your majesty?” I executed a deep bow in front of him, and he grinned widely. We had been back two days now, but every time I saw that smile, I still felt this flutter of relief that he was all right. Luke had fashioned him a sleek, black patch for his eye and he was fast healing from the last of his injuries, despite us all forcing him to rest far more than he wanted to.

“Yeah, get over here and stop canoodling in the kitchen.” He held out his arms to me. “You’re making me jealous.”

“You called me in here just for that?” I demanded, and he nodded.

“You going to deny me?” he asked, and I rolled my eyes and padded over to him. In truth, I didn’t mind one little bit; I actually kind of liked it when they had these little moments of jealousy over me. It was never close to a problem and I had to admit there was something sweet about it.

I moved towards him and slipped into his lap, leaning my head up against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me and nestled his nose into my hair, letting out a long sigh, as though this is what he had been waiting for all day long.

“I love you,” he murmured into my ear.

“I love you, too,” I replied. The fire crackled before us, and I heard Ethan humming in the kitchen. It was rare, this kind of quiet, given how noisy and full of life this house normally was, and I savored it for the brief moment that it lasted.

But before I could get too comfortable, as always happened in this little cabin, the door burst open and Anton and Luke strode into the room, the two of them arguing loudly with each other.

“I could have gotten it without your help,” Luke promised him.

“Oh, yeah?” Anton cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well, next time you can go out there by yourself and see what you bring back, all right?”

“Sounds perfect to me. Then I don’t have to hear your bitching afterward,” Luke shot back.

I looked over at them, playing with a strand of Rafe’s hair, but he didn’t bother to even glance at his brothers. The light from the fire played on his face, as though nothing in the world could have disturbed him at that moment. Not even the bickering.

“You guys get something?” I asked, and Luke nodded.

“Venison,” he replied, lifting the bag in his hands. “Ethan in the kitchen?”

“Yep,” I replied, and watched as he left the living room. Anton was shaking some rain out of his hair and smiled at me.

“Is Rafe asleep?” he murmured. It was a fair question. The first day, Rafe had slept a hell of a lot of the time, repairing his body and working to get back to his former strength.

“No, he’s not,” Rafe replied, sitting up. I kissed his temple and got to my feet.

“How are you doing, brother?” Anton asked, striding over to him and examining him closely. Rafe batted him away. “Well?”

“Yeah, no one burst in to try and kidnap me while you were away or anything if that’s what you were thinking.” He cocked an eyebrow at Anton and I chuckled. Anton had been seriously over-protective of Rafe after what had happened, and while I didn’t blame him, I could see why it was starting to get on Rafe’s nerves a little.

“Well, good.” Anton grinned, a little tiredly. He stretched, and his shirt rose up to reveal a strip of his well-toned abs. Now that we’d managed to get some good, hearty meals in us and weren’t inundated with stress, he had started to bulk up again and I very much enjoyed what I saw.

“Well, hello,” I murmured, and reached out to trail my fingers over the exposed skin. He grinned, caught my hand, and pulled me in for a kiss – it was soft but urgent, a promise of what was to come later.

Jesus, they all seemed to be randy as hell this evening, which was precisely how I liked them. Already, a low ache was spreading through my stomach.

“I’m going to finish up helping with dinner.” I brushed my nose against his. “You go relax with Rafe. You guys have been out hunting all day.”

“Whatever you say.” Anton let his hand trace down my back and squeezed my ass lightly for a moment before he let me away, and I headed through to the kitchen with a smile on my face.

“Hey, you go and get some rest,” I ordered Luke, planting my hands on my hips; Ethan was stripping down the meat, and Luke was hovering nearby, as he was wont to do. He glanced over at me and shook his head.

“Yeah, I’m too amped up to rest,” he replied, rubbing his hands together. “Help me set the table?”

“Yeah, we’re about five minutes from serving up,” Ethan said.

I went to gather a handful of plates from the cupboard above Ethan’s head and went to set the table with Luke trailing behind me. Anton was sitting in front of the fire, chatting quietly to Rafe.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Luke remarked, shooting me a heated glance. I felt another twist of excitement in my stomach as I set the plates down. Luke was always plain and open about what he wanted, and there was something so thrilling about that.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, dumping the silverware onto the table with a clatter and prowling toward me. He placed his hands on either side of my hips and pinned me where I stood. Then, he leaned in to kiss me, hard, giving proof to his words…he had been thinking of me all day. And frankly, if this was where he was going with those thoughts, I didn’t mind one bit.

“Hey, you guys,” Ethan cut us off. “Dinner’s ready. Stop making out on the table.”

“Fine,” Luke murmured reluctantly, and then leaned in to lightly bite my bottom lip before he pulled away and finished setting the table. I blinked, taking a moment to come back to reality. Sometimes, it was a little difficult to keep my head straight knowing that all these guys still wanted me as much as they did, but a girl just had to struggle through.

Ethan started serving up a great steaming pile of stew onto each of our plates, big chunks of bread on the side for all of us and we all sat down to eat. I paused for a moment before I started, looking around at all of them. This still felt like a novelty. A dream, and I could barely contain my gratitude and joy.

“This looks good, thank you guys.” I glanced around the table.

“Except Rafe.” Luke nudged his brother with a grin. “He did fuck all.”

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me. Maybe if you assholes let me off the god damn couch instead of clucking around me like a pack of hens, I’d be more helpful,” Rafe grunted with a fake scowl before tucking into his food.

The others laughed, but there was no question we all felt it. That underlying thread of gratitude that we’d all made it back. Rafe would have to adjust to his new normal now, missing his eye, but even he seemed to just be grateful that we were together again.

Our little pack.

We ate hungrily and quickly, and when we finished up, I leaned back from the table and closed my eyes with a sigh.

“That was so good,” I murmured, rubbing my stomach. “I could just go to sleep right here.”

“Try and hold out for a little longer.” Rafe nudged me under the table with his foot, his gaze hot enough to make my skin break out into goose-bumps.

“Mine,” Ethan growled as he cocked his head at me, taking my hand.

“I think there’s only one way to put an end to this fairly,” Anton announced, getting up from the table as though this was some great trial to him. He leaned down and scooped me up in his arms, and I burst out laughing.

“All of you?” I asked, cheeks warming as I glanced around to see the rest of them getting to their feet.

“All of us,” Luke replied, his face a mask of need.

Anton made his way through to the bedroom with me in his arms and kicked the door open. I looked over his shoulder to see the rest of them following him and bit my lip.

He lay me down on the bed, and I reluctantly unwound my arms from around his neck. I knew I had three other guys to take care of as well, but that didn’t mean I didn’t enjoying being that close to him. And then I remembered the way they’d all touched me over the course of this evening, kisses stolen here and there, the weight and warmth of their bodies a reminder of what was yet to come. My insides tensed with anticipation as the other three stepped into the room, Luke kicking the door shut behind them.

I closed my eyes and stretched my arms up above my head and let the shirt that I was wearing work up a few inches; I could feel their eyes on me and my anticipation ratcheted up another notch.

Who was going to be the first one to touch me?

“Come here,” a familiar voice growled, and I felt the mattress move as Luke slid down next to me.

Rafe and Ethan swiftly followed as Luke pulled me on top of him, rolling so that we were in the center of the bed while the other two slipped down the sides. Anton leaned against the wall just taking it all in for the time being, though I knew that he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself for long.

Luke’s mouth found mine and for a moment I forgot there was anyone else in the room at all. He pushed a strand of hair back from my face and slipped his tongue into my mouth, one hand tightening around my waist as he lifted his hips to grind against me. I shuddered against the length of his thick cock, and moaned deep in my throat.

We’d barely touched, but already, I was wet and aching. I fluttered my hips against his, relishing the low rumble in his chest at the movement.

I gasped into the kiss as I felt other hands touch me – Rafe’s slipping beneath my skirt to cup my ass, Ethan’s trailing over the back of my neck oh-so-lightly. I arched against Luke’s thick bulge, grinding against him like the two of us were a pair of teenagers desperate for relief.

“Who first?” I whispered as Luke pulled back for a moment and let the two of us catch our breath.

“Hey, no rushing.” Ethan pushed me off Luke’s chest and rolled me flat down on the bed, pulling off my shirt and leaning down to take my nipple into his mouth. He sucked gently at first, tugging on the stiff peak, sending waves of pleasure through me.

I cradled his head in my arms and closed my eyes, and when I turned to take a breath I felt Rafe’s mouth suddenly connect with mine, catching me off-guard. I slipped my hand through his hair, pulling him close.

Every time I kissed him, it was a reminder of how close we’d been to losing him before, and how grateful I was that he was here. Rafe’s fingers drifted down to the soft, sensitive part of my lower belly, and then pushed the skirt I had been wearing down and off my legs.

He skimmed the pads of his fingertips over the top of my panties, making my toes curl where they were hanging off the bed. At the same time, Ethan sought my nipple with the edge of his teeth, nipping sharply, forcing a gasp of pleasure from between my lips. As Rafe finally slipped his hand beneath the thin scrap of lace covering my pussy, I opened my eyes to find Luke watching behind hooded lids. His rigid cock was out and in hand and the look in his eyes told me that it wouldn’t be long until I got to feel it.

My pussy clenched and pulsed at the thought.

Anton was still at the door, eyes dark, expression tense and needy. And then I felt Rafe’s fingers against my clit and nothing else in the world mattered.

“Ah!” I cried out, arching back up off the bed as Rafe moved his fingers against me, slow and gentle. His mouth covered mine once more, our tongues meeting, and he moved a little lower and, in one motion, slid his fingers inside me.

I reached out the hand that had been cradling his head and beyond, for Luke, for the touch of someone else to ground me before I went spinning off Earth – and I groaned as I found that he had stripped naked while I’d been preoccupied with Rafe’s roving fingers and Anton’s molten mouth. He took my hand and pulled it against his chest, so I could feel the way his heart was racing. Another jolt of desire shot through me and I arched against Rafe’s fingers as he thrust in and out in long, deep strokes. He muttered against my mouth, telling me all the things he was going to do to me, as though to remind me exactly who was pleasuring me at that moment, and my legs started to tremble and shake as the wave threatened to take me over. His long digits curled upward, unerringly finding that secret spot deep inside me that was making me wild and desperate for release.

But I didn’t want it like this.

I wanted to come with one of them inside me. Or two, a delicious voice whispered in my mind. There was nothing more endlessly erotic to me than feeling them spread me open, feeling them take me, letting them have me, while the others watched and touched and licked and--

“Are you going to fuck her, or am I?” Luke growled from his spot on the bed. My eyes fluttered open to silently thank him for the words I had been unable to squeeze past my too-tight throat.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” Rafe murmured, his voice thick and throaty in my ear. I nodded and bit my lip. “Well, can’t let my woman lay here and suffer, can I?” Rafe thrust his fingers deep one last time, dragging a long moan from throat before pulled them free and tracing them over my lips. I flicked my tongue out to taste myself on them, and he grunted in approval, eyes going even hotter.

Ethan released my nipple with a pop and watched through hooded eyes.

“Hands and knees, I think,” Anton muttered. I glanced over to see him making his way towards us, the shape of his cock very visible through his jeans. I reached out to graze my fingers over it, watching the pulse of desire that settle over his features when I touched him.

“Doesn’t matter to me, as long as I can have her,” Rafe shot back and pulled me up so that he was pressing against me from behind; Ethan was still watching the two of us, and I could see his cock straining against his jeans as well.

“Come here.” I gestured for him to move up towards me, and planted a soft kiss on his lips as I heard Rafe unzipping behind me. And then, I reached for Ethan’s cock, pulling him down so he was laid sideways across the bed and I could have him with my mouth.

Before I got a chance, though, I felt Rafe nudging at my all-too-ready entrance and I froze.

He stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, rubbing the broad head of his cock against my slick heat, making me gasp and tremble. I could hear his harsh breathing and that of the others as he used his swollen member to torture me.

“You’re so beautiful here,” he managed through gritted teeth. “So pink and tight and sweet--” he broke off with a snarl and thrust into me, hard and deep, all at once, filling me to the point of bursting. I allowed myself a moment to close my eyes and just get lost in how fucking good that felt. The first time of every one of these encounters was always something special – in a few minutes’ time, I would be incoherent, in the throes of orgasm over and over, but for this one moment, I savored the wait. The intensity. The perfection of this with them.

It was only when Rafe’s fingers gripped my hips tightly and began to move me, working me in long, easy strokes over his distended member, that my fingers twitched and I realized I had stopped halfway through unzipping Ethan’s pants.

Trying to keep myself from tumbling over the edge too quickly and coming right away, I switched focus and finished the job, taking his iron hard cock into my hand. He groaned and propped himself up on the bed, so he could get a look at me slowly working his heavy erection.

“Mmm, fuck,” he ground out, tipping his head back as I leaned forward to take him into my mouth for the first time. The second I suckled gently on that smooth head, I felt Luke’s touching me again – he never liked being left out for long. His strong hands moving roughly across my back, my tits, the flat of my belly, were a reminder that he was impatiently waiting his turn with me. A thought that only made holding back the rising tide ever more difficult.

I took as much of Ethan into my mouth as I could and started to move my lips up and down him, getting him slick with my saliva as Rafe slowed the pace and let Luke guide my hips on to him. The feeling was exquisite; the feeling of the four of them using me like this, controlling me and fucking me and touching me, still drove me crazy.

I moaned as I flickered my tongue up the underside of Ethan’s cock, reaching the top once more and lingering there, planting sloppy, wet kisses on his head before I took him in again, so deep he bounced against the tender flesh at the back of my throat.

Dimly, I could hear Anton next to me, his breathing growing harsher, faster. Every so often, he would reach out to guide my head up and down on Ethan’s cock before pulling back once more and letting us get on with it.

But soon enough, it became too much. Behind me, Rafe had sunk his fingers into my hips and was fucking me hard, building up a pace and pounding into me deep. Luke slipped his hand between my legs and found my clit, stroking it in tight circles even as Anton began to tug at my nipple. The sudden mix of sensations shuddered through me all at once and I found that I couldn’t-

“Ah!” I cried out, pulling my head from Ethan’s cock so I didn’t swallow him whole when I came.

The sensation rocketed through me and I sobbed out my ecstasy, calling each of their names as I quaked and shook, my pussy clenching around Rafe’s cock in violent contractions.

Overcome, I quickly closed my mouth back over Ethan as though it would anchor me to the spot as the others worked my body mercilessly. Every nerve ending felt as though it was on fire, every inch of my skin covered in goose-bumps as the release washed over me.

I was still trembling with aftershocks when Rafe froze behind me, buried all the way up to the hilt, and bellowed my name, his cock filling me up and his groan echoing through the room. It didn’t take long for Ethan to follow suit. I closed my eyes and relished the sensation of Rafe’s cock spurting inside me in great pulses while Ethan’s fingers speared through my hair as his cock swelled and exploded into my mouth in a salty rush.

Hot streams shot against my throat and I swallowed greedily. He tasted so good, so familiar, that I swear to God this felt like it was fulfilling some kind of addiction that ran deep inside me, the kind that could only be satisfied by the four of them.

Rafe pulled out of me and I sat back up, letting out a shuddery sigh – and then turned to see the two men I hadn’t taken care of yet. They were usually happy to give me as much recuperation time as I needed between rounds, but I wasn’t even close to tired yet. I was insatiable for them right now.

Sitting up on my knees, I bit my lip and glanced between Luke and Anton, back and forth, eyebrow cocked to let them know that I was as ready for this as they were.

Anton reached out for me, sliding his hand over my head; I closed my eyes. As the alpha, there was something so powerful about him, a confidence and ease he exuded with every movement and every touch. I would never grow tired of it.

I heard a zip and opened my eyes to find him guiding his cock towards my face. I guessed I had done a good job on Ethan if Anton was craving the same, and I looked up at him and parted my lips and let him slowly push his cock all the way into my mouth.

The way it felt as it filled me was something different to Ethan’s; with him, I had been the one in control, but I knew with Anton that he was the one running this show and that he was going to let me catch up to him instead of the other way around.

I sat up a little further, the taste of his sweet skin filling my mouth, and reached out to put my hands on his hips and pull him in close to me. He reached down and balled a hand in my hair, guiding me up and down along his cock, letting me get used to the feel of it inside my mouth, down my throat.

I was so mesmerized, I had almost forgotten there were other people in the room at all, but I soon felt hands on me again – God, was there anything better than this, than blowing one of them and feeling the rest of them touch me? Not knowing whose hand it was cupping my breasts, or grabbing my ass, or between my legs, and not caring one little bit?

And then those hands began to move me. So easily with all that strength as two of them clamped down on my hips and lifted them up; I felt the warmth of a body beneath me, and then the hands lowered me down again, this time more slowly…this time, on a long, thick cock. I groaned around Anton’s massive girth.

Luke.

I would recognize his cock anywhere – its thickness, the way he rode me, extra-deep as though keen to remind me that it was him. Ethan and Rafe continued to touch me, their hands light and teasing as they moved over my breasts, my hair, my neck, as Luke worked me over his cock, fucking me in earnest. Rough, deep strokes that had my head thrashing as I expelled Anton from my lips.

It was at times like this that my mind seemed to drop away entirely. Dimly, I felt Anton move away only to take up residence behind me on the bed, his hand pressing against the small of my back, pressing me until my breasts were flush against Luke’s chest. A wet, probing finger traced my ass, delving a little deeper with every pass until it pushed in. The sensation made me cry out with need.

“Yes,” I murmured, wild for it now. “Fuck me. Both of you.”

Anton needed no further encouragement as he pulled his finger away and lined up behind me. His cock was still wet from my mouth as he pressed into my tight back entrance. It stung at first, a burning ache, but with Luke’s relentless cock moving inside me, the pain was soon forgotten. Then, with one smooth motion, it was done. Anton was buried in my ass, balls deep, and Luke in my pussy.

For a moment we all stayed like that, still and quiet as we savored the sensations.

“Fuck,” Anton groaned, his cock bucking and twitching inside my tight hole.

If I could’ve formed a response, I’d have agreed with him.

I couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling in the immediate moment, the warmth of skin on mine, hungry mouths against me as Rafe and Ethan nipped at my shoulders and stroked me while the other two began to move. So full…so good. Pounding in and out, deeper…faster…taking me—

“Ah, fuck! I can’t—”

I exploded, shattering into a million pieces as a monster of an orgasm slammed into me, dragging low screams from my lips.

I forced myself to watch Luke as I came. His gaze was intense, pinned to mine, his jaw tight, eyes flashing as I gasped and shook. His hips slapped against mine as he gritted his teeth and then let out a snarl.

Anton thrust forward, burrowing deep and staying there as Luke came in a hot rush, his swollen cock twitching and jerking inside me.

Anton let out a grunt and began to move with slow, shallow thrusts as if he couldn’t contain himself, and the sensation drew out my own pleasure. I couldn’t make a sound but that didn’t matter – I knew they could all tell from the way my body spasmed and my muscles tensed and released over and over again. Luke was still coming and held himself still inside me now, letting me milk his cock with my pussy. I was distantly aware of Ethan planting a soft series of kisses up my shoulder, and of Rafe leaning down to take my nipple into his mouth once more as Anton’s thrusts picked up speed. Soon enough, I could feel his grip on my ass and hips, hear the breath sawing in and out of his lungs.

“So fucking good,” he growled and then arched forward one last time in a frantic thrust before blasting off inside me. I let my eyes drift closed as his cock bucked inside me like a live wire.

So good was right.

For a long while, we stayed that way. Rafe and Ethan caressing me softly as Luke and Anton recovered. As our heartbeats returned to normal, I slowly opened my eyes and Anton pulled out.

Luke grinned up at me and tugged me down toward him to plant a kiss on my forehead, surprisingly tender for him. And when they all urged me to lie on the bed again, this time it was so I could actually get some rest.

“Welcome home, Rafe,” I murmured.

I felt them all slip around me, one at a time – the weight of them, their presence, the sound of their breathing and their scents in my head. And I let my eyes drift shut once more, surrounded by my men.

I was safe, and I was loved, and we were together again. Forever.

The End

Want more Savannah Skye? Check out Her Immortal Harem!

A con artist has to be flexible, able to think on her feet, and ideally, have nine lives. That’s why I make sure I’m always the cat and never the mouse. Until now, that is…

I’m walking down the street minding my own business—okay, fine, running down the street with a fat guy named Hank chasing me after a hustle gone wrong—and suddenly, I get pelted in the back of the head by a frog.

You read that right. Frog. Like…ribbit.

Trust me, I was as shocked as you are. And that amphibian-sniping was just the opener to a major shit-show starring yours truly as a modern day Joan of Arc and three sexy-as-hell demigods insisting that it’s up to me to save the world from the gods of old who want to see Earth razed and human kind wiped out.

What’s a girl to do besides saddle up and try to make this quest her bitch?

Chapter One

"I'm a cat person, myself."

I looked up from the pool table at the hulking man who had spoken and gave him my most polite “I've never heard that line before” smile.

To explain; my name is Caterina. I go by Cat. In my entire life, or at least since the age of sixteen, I have never been in a room full of guys without at least one of them stating that they were 'a cat person', usually in a tone of voice that suggests that they think this line alone should be enough to seal the deal with me.

I should probably have been grateful that none of them had mentioned ‘pussy’ yet. These are the everyday tribulations of a woman called Cat, and you might think I was showing admirable restraint by not breaking the pool cue across the head of this particular guy—whose name was Hank. Actually, I was kind of glad that Hank had said such a douchey thing, because I was about to cheat him out of his money, and I felt a lot better about taking money from a jackass than a nice guy. So, instead of smacking him over the head and kicking him in the gonads—I knew how to take care of myself—I smiled teasingly like I had never heard such a witty line, and was actually a little turned on by it. I had to keep Hank and his pool-playing mates onside by making them think that they had a chance with me. Keeping them distracted, and making out that I was dumb and ditzy made them overconfident.

All part of the grift.

“I hear you, Hank. I like a nice pussy myself."

Annnd, there it was. I barely managed to keep my eyes from rolling into the back of my head.

Hank’s rat-faced best friend was named Leon and he had the physique of an emaciated clothes horse. He wore a ridiculously tight T-shirt, apparently designed to show off a chest that looked like a bunch of wire hangers in a sack. I had taken a dislike to him on sight, which is something I don't like to do—you shouldn't judge people by their looks. It was a relief to learn that he was as dickish as his looks suggested.

Still, I smiled back as if this was the most romantic thing I had ever heard, and in my sexiest, most sultry voice, I whispered back, “I bet you do."

You wouldn't think that any man would be dumb enough to think I was actually flirting, but men have a blind spot when it comes to attractive women. If a good-looking girl pays attention to them then they will believe every word she says…a very useful thing to know in my line of work.

It probably sounds arrogant to describe myself as attractive, and it's not something I would have done when I was younger, but after spending the past ten years conning men on a daily basis, there was no denying that they seem to like the way I looked. Since I’d had no part in determining the symmetry of my facial features and my appearance was just the result of my parental units’ melding of cells or whatever, I was no more proud of it than I would be of inherited money. I had been fortunate enough to come out on the better side of the luck of the draw but I’d done nothing to earn it.

That said, I couldn’t deny that it made my work a lot easier, and for that, I was grateful. No point in looking a gift horse in the mouth.

I bent low, making sure both Dumb and Dumber had eyes on me, and took my next shot.

"Damn!" I muttered, then stamped my foot petulantly as the ball rebounded off the cushion. "I suck at this."

Hank scooped up the bundle of notes from the edge of the table and put an arm around me, sending up a waft of BO that made my eyes tear a little. "Never mind, sweetie. I bet you make up for it in other ways."

“Oh yeah? Like what?" I asked innocently.

Hank gave a knowing look to his mates around the table. “Maybe you can show me later."

They all chuckled, their expressions as oily as their hair.

Sometimes it was almost too easy.

That said, playing pool that badly is a skill. Being bad at pool is one thing, but you have to be very good to pretend to be convincingly bad.

Especially when you're as good as I am.

I downed a shot of tequila from a row set up along the bar, and tottered convincingly on my heels. Two other things you have to be good at when grifting; holding your liquor and pretending to be drunk. I’m pretty good at both, but I wish I was better at the former. Always room for improvement.

"You're not going to take more of my money are you, Hank?” I ask, wheedling. You've got to time the moment right; don't leave it so long that they've lost interest, or have become more interested in you than in the money. That could be dangerous.

"Sorry, darling," said Hank. "I know you've lost a lot this evening but a bet's a bet."

"My daddy's going to be so mad at me." I don't why the 'Daddy' thing works, but it does.

"I hope you learned something then," said Hank, playing the big man.

"That I suck at pool?" I sighed. "Give me one more chance to win my money back?"

"You got anything left to bet?"

I shrugged. "That depends. I don't have to bet money…do I?”

I watched Hank’s eyes to see the 'sure thing' bulb light up inside his head.

I sidled closer to him to seal the deal. "This way; whether I win or lose - I still get to win."

It's important to know that if you try this grift one on one, it doesn't usually work, but in a group of a certain type of man, it works one hundred percent of the time. And here's why:

"Hank, if you don't take her up on this, then I'm gonna!" Leon laughed.

I turned unsteadily to look at Leon. "For how much?"

Just like Hank's a minute ago, Leon's rodent eyes lit up and he fumbled for his wallet.

"Now hang on..." Hank began. “The lady asked me first.”

But the other men were now joining in. "I'll take a piece of that action."

"Count me in!"

I pretended to look concerned. "Guys, I'm starting to think you're taking advantage of me and my lack of skill."

Immediately, they all rallied round to reassure me; it was just in fun, just a bit of a laugh, and besides, I've been losing all night, I'm bound to win eventually and, really, I'm taking advantage of them for encouraging them to bet so much on a pool game that could clearly go either way and from which they didn't stand to win any money.

"Well..." I bit my lower lip, turning the matter over. "Okay."

The men cheered and a pile of money went down on the table. I had to wonder what they thought was going to happen if they won. But they were all drunker than me by this point and this was apparently fulfilling some nasty little fantasy for them.

"Rack 'em up," I said with a practiced, nervous giggle.

This was where things got tricky.

The most difficult thing in pool hustling is the final game. How do you make it look like anything other than hustling? The short answer is, you probably can't. No matter how accidental you make it look—and I'm pretty good at making a win look like an accident—they are still going to be suspicious. A lot of the time the men just don't want to admit that they've been hustled in front of their friends—especially by a girl—and so they let it go. That was best-case scenario and what I was counting on here.

Worst case?

I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

The next twenty minutes went by in a blur of missed balls that mystically left my opponent without a clear shot of his own, peppered with a handful “lucky” shots that resulted in me winning the game.

I straightened as the eight-ball slipped neatly into the pocket and squealed with as much excitement as I could fake-muster.

"Look at that! I won! This is so cool."

I scooped the money into my bag then grabbed a bar napkin—because there is one thing you can do to make proceedings marginally less painful for a male mark. I scrawled a phone number on the napkin—I always use the number of a guy I knew in school who grabbed my boobs at a party one time—then kissed it, leaving a vivid impression of crimson lipstick.

I stuffed the napkin into Hank's hand and gave him a fleeting smile.

"This was really fun. Big fun, but I gotta go,” I added with a pout before holding my thumb and pinky to my ear in the universal sign for ‘phone’. “Call me."

I took another shot of tequila and headed out. Leaving the number and telling him to call me was always my exit strategy because it soothed the sting of things if they got to save face in front of their boys some. That said, in my experience, the effect wore off pretty fast when you've just taken a lot of money from them. Usually I had time to get to the end of the block, and that was all I needed. In my home territory of Brooklyn I have every escape route mapped out in my head. I knew the back alleys around the bars like I was brought up in them and I can lose anyone.

But this was the Flushing end of Queens and, while I did a scout around beforehand to get the lay of the land, it wasn’t the same. My foster brother, Remi, who was also my occasional partner in these ventures, told me it would be risky coming out this way, but I didn't think we had much choice. You can only grift the same area for so long before you get known. I'd been banned from half the bars in Brooklyn, and the only reason I hadn't been banned from the other half is because my marks hadn’t complained to management. They wanted to get me in the door so they could have a frank conversation about where the hell their money went.

I had told Remi that Queens was a risk worth taking, and based on the bulge in my bag, I was right. It was still only half of what I needed for the month, but that was a problem for another day.

It started to rain, the light pitter-patter on the ground oddly comforting on a dark night in a strange place. But then I heard a different patter, mixed in with the rain, and coming up behind me.

Footsteps.

I quickened my pace, mentally calculating the distance to the next subway.

If I was lucky, then it was Leon rolling up behind me. I tried to stay in shape and took half a dozen different self-defense classes. If it was Leon, he was going down.

Hard.

"Hey! Wait up, bitch!"

Hank.

Shit.

I could hold my own in a fight, but Hank was built like a bus. He probably wasn't quick, but if he laid a hand on me then...

Then all I could do was hope that he would take the money and leave me relatively unharmed.

"I said, wait up!"

I should have listened to Remi. Well, I was going to take some of my foster brother's advice now. Remi’s favorite mantra was, 'If you can't beat 'em, run'.

I broke into a sprint, tearing ass down the street. I might not have been as strong as Hank, but surely I was quicker?

On an impulse, I turned down an alleyway, hoping to lose him. At the far end was a chain-link fence. That wouldn't have happened in Brooklyn. I'd have known where I was going. On the other hand, I could climb chain-link like a monkey and I was betting that Hank couldn't. He might plow through it like a rhinoceros, but it would at least slow the bastard down a bit.

"You better stop or else…”

Or else what? I might get away from him?

What an idiotic thing to say. Unless...

I glanced back and saw Hank reaching into his jacket. It occurred to me that he hadn't taken that jacket off all night, even in the sweaty heat of the bar.

Holy shit, did he have a gun?

From nowhere I found a new turn of speed, racing for the fence. I was only a foot or two away when something hit me in the back of the head and down I went. He shot me. He fucking shot me! In the panic of the moment I hadn't even heard the gunshot. Maybe that was what it was like when you were shot. There wasn't much pain but that wasn't much relief.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fucking fair. All I did was cheat him out of a bit of money - not really all that much. I'd misled him, sure, but I hadn't actually stolen anything. Plus, he had behaved like a total sleaze, didn't I deserve some payback for pussy jokes and groping hands?

It wasn't grifted money, exactly. It was more like a tax on guys who behave disrespectfully towards women. And even if none of that was true, I still didn't deserve to die for it.

Remi was going to be so pissed.

And yet, under all that, under the panic and the fear and the will to fight and survive like I'd been doing my whole damned life, as I closed my eyes to a welcoming darkness of oblivion, I felt an odd sense of relief.

At least now I could stop running.

Chapter Two

A few moments later I heard a nearby 'ribbit'. I opened my eyes and found a frog staring back at me. On a list of things that one associates with Heaven, frogs very seldom feature. Which did make sense - I probably hadn’t made the cut on the guest list into Heaven. No surprise there. On the other hand, what on earth did a frog have to do to get itself condemned to Hell? I wouldn't have thought they'd last long in the heat…

Somewhere alongside my musings on the presence of amphibians in the afterlife came the realizations that; a) I probably wasn't actually dead; b) the presence of a frog in an alley in Queens was almost as unlikely as one in Heaven or Hell; and c) the footsteps coming up from behind me had stopped.

I sat up, touching the back of my head as I did so. My hair was wet where I’d been hit, but when I looked at my fingers there was no blood. So, definitely not dead, probably not shot, and with damp hair. I had been hit in the head with something wet. What the fuck was going on?

I tipped my head up to find Hank staring at me in confusion a few yards away.

"Did you just throw a frog at me?" I demanded incredulously.

Hank, who was holding a mobile phone in his hand which was presumably what he had been reaching into his pocket for, wore a stunned expression that was actually not that dissimilar to that of the frog’s.

"What? No. I was..." He gestured with his phone, still dazed and clearly taken aback. "I was going to call the police."

That made more sense. I had taken his money under false pretenses and calling the police was a more appropriate response than hurling amphibians, but that didn’t explain the frog.

"I was calling the police and then..."

He paused, scratching his stubble. “Something did hit you in the head. I think - I think it was..." His eyes seemed to be drawn inexorably to the frog, still sitting inoffensively on the ground beside me. Hank looked to be teetering on the edge of sanity, and I didn't much like how close I was behind him. "But I didn't throw it."

The frog began to hop away, presumably in search of a nice pond to rest up in after a traumatic experience.

"Then who did?" I argued. We were alone in the alley, a fact that should’ve been more concerning to me considering our history but had dropped off my danger radar after I’d been pelted with in the cranium a frog.

"It... It just dropped from the sky."

He was starting to develop a twitch over his left eye that had me fearing he might stroke out or something.

"You're seeing things," I said dismissively, waving my hand in hopes of calming us both the fuck down. "Frogs do not just drop from the sky. If I was hit by a frog then someone threw it. And since there's only you and me here..."

“Look, I didn't throw it! Why would I even be carrying a frog?” he demanded gruffly, still holding his phone as if unsure what to do with it now.

That was a reasonable point and I was about to counter it as best I could when a frog fell from the sky and landed a few feet away from me with a splat. Without the benefit of something slightly more forgiving to land on such as my head, this one did not survive the landing.

“Guh!” Hank blanched, shuddering with disgust. "What the-”

"There's a perfectly rational explanation for this," I cut in, clinging onto my sanity by a thread.

Hank was less successful with that endeavor as another frog went careening by him at warp speed before exploding a few feet away from his left shoe.

He screamed at a pitch usually reserved for bats and five-year-old girls, then yelled at me. “You’re sick. Taking my money wasn't enough? You gotta scare the shit out of me, too! Not cool, man. Not cool!"

And with that, he took to his heels with a speed I wouldn't have credited to a man of his size.

While I managed not to scream or run away, I was least as freaked out as Hank was. I'd heard urban legends about rains of frogs, but they weren't actually true, were they? Rain comes from clouds - you can't have a cloud of frogs. A crack of thunder rent the air and I looked up just in time to catch a face full of frog.

This time I screamed because its cold little foot actually went into my mouth. I hurled the offending creature from me in as ladylike a way as possible then took to my heels running.

As I was feeling a bit shaken, as well as achy and scraped from my fall, I decided to spring for a cab back to Brooklyn, even though money was tight. The cabbie gave me a pleasant smile as I got in and rattled off the address.

"You alright?" he asked, seeming like he might actually care.

"Yeah. Sure," I muttered. "I... Can I ask; have you seen anything weird tonight?"

The cabbie nodded fervently. "Hell yeah. I'm a cabbie in New York. You want weird? You've come to the right place."

"I meant; weirder than normal," I pressed.

"I don't know about that," the cabbie shrugged. "I had a hooker with a broken heel - her actual heel, not her shoe. There was a guy with a teddy bear tied to his head - apparently it was an art thing. Don't get art these days. Oh, and some jackass made me call him ‘Sir’ the whole ride and requested that I come up to his apartment and give him a taint massage for a fifty percent tip.”

"Not really what I had in mind," I said, interrupting to stop him before he said something I couldn’t un-hear. "I meant weird for New York."

"Weird for New York?" The cabbie blew a long whistle. "No. I can't even imagine what that would look like. That's a pretty damn high level of weird shit, you know?"

As he continued to muse on what might constitute weird for NYC, I leaned my head out the window, enjoying the faint dusting of rain on my face, and staring skywards in search of any other falling frogs. I saw none. Had I imagined the whole thing? But, of course, it hadn't just been me who'd seen it. Something had scared Hank off.

My train of thought slowed. It had scared Hank off, hadn't it? I had been thinking about this in a very negative way - something that had scared me, weirded me out and set me questioning my own sanity. But it had also been something that had potentially saved me from... well, the worst-case scenario didn't bear thinking about.

Not that it wasn't still weird and scary.

Reaching my apartment block, I paid the cabbie, thanked him for his help, and then raced up three flights, eager to be back once again in the safety of my home.

Remi looked up from a Thai take-away as I barreled in.

"What's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

I suppose that most people would think it weird for a twenty-eight-year-old woman to be living with her brother, but Remi and I were more than siblings. Also, less - we were both fostered by the same family. But although there was no blood between us, we had always been full siblings in each other's eyes, and we had both always felt that we had been destined to end up together. Whatever bad circumstances had landed us in the foster system, all that badness had been, to some degree at least, mitigated the day we met. Remi was my best friend in the world and my partner in crime. He was every bit as good at manipulating marks as I was, using his blonde-haired good looks and trim, fit body to his advantage. It was a perfect partnership, and because we had grown up as brother and sister, and had never seen each other as anything else, it was a partnership unencumbered with the awkwardness of a relationship that torpedoed many a husband and wife grifting team.

I flopped down on the couch and looked across at Remi. "Did you get me anything?"

"Pad Thai. What's wrong?” he asked again, not missing a trick.

"You rock,” I said with a happy sigh as I scooped up the white carton.

"Obviously, but tell me what's wrong."

He fetched me a beer and, as I ate, I told him about the events of the evening. He stopped and held up a staying hand right where I expected him to.

"A frog?"

"A frog,” I repeated.

"You're sure?"

I rolled my eyes. "You think I don't know what a frog looks like? You think maybe I mistook it for something else?"

"Probably not."

"You believe me?"

"Of course I believe you."

I shook my head. "There's no 'of course' about it. I just told you I was snipered by a falling sky frog. I wouldn't believe me. Hell, I’m not even sure I do believe me."

Remi edged closer, suddenly concerned. "What do you mean?"

I focused my gaze on my noodles. "What if... You know."

"What?"

"You know,” I hedged.

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

"What if it's all in my mind?"

Remi shook his head firmly. "You said there was this guy there."

"What if I imagined him, too?"

He could hear the fear in my voice and he knew what I was thinking without me having to say it. This was how it had started for my mother. Hallucinations, memories of things that had never happened. It had all seemed innocent enough at first - to a child it had just seemed like a game we played. But the happy images had become voices, steps on a path that had led to the mental institution in which she remained, drifting in and out of lucidity.

"You know what probably happened?" Remi tried to bring me back from the dark thoughts into which I was sinking. "The guy threw something at you - a rock or something, or a bag or something - it knocked you out, and the rest was a concussion hallucination. Just an after-effect of a bang on the head."

I nodded, without really thinking it might be true.

"There's a protocol."

"A what now?"

"A concussion protocol," Remi explained. "Like tests you've got to do after you've got whanged on the head, to make sure you've not done any permanent damage. How many fingers am I holding up?"

He extended his middle finger at me and I laughed, returning the gesture. "I'm not sure that's one of the steps."

"I'll Google it."

I watched as he got his phone out, trying not to think about strait jackets, padded rooms and electro-shock therapy. I should visit Mom more often, but that place…

I barely repressed a shudder.

Desperate to think about something else while Remi wondered out loud how one spelled “concussion”, I tried to isolate a niggling feeling at the back of my head that I had read about rains of frogs somewhere.

"Google raining frogs," I said.

"I think we should do the protocol first," Remi replied.

"I'm fine. I'll get some ice for the bump. Just Google it."

Remi shrugged and did so while I got an ice pack for my head and band aids for my skinned knees.

It would be too much to say that we regularly get physically hurt but there are risks to the job. Getting beaten up is always a possibility and we've had some close calls, but minor injuries sustained while running are more common. There's a reason that Remi and I are both gym bunnies - we keep super fit, and it's not to look good. You need to have a turn of speed in this profession, you need to be able to climb or jump obstacles. From time to time, in headlong flight from an angry man with a much lighter wallet than he had minutes ago, you are going to trip up and fall down. I've always thought Remi has it easier because he can wear pretty much whatever, while my standard grifting uniform required me to show some skin. It’s great for distracting men, who are looking at my boobs when they really should be looking at what my hands are doing, but is terrible for running away and worse for falling down. Skinned knees are an occupational hazard.

When I got back, Remi passed me his phone, somewhat reluctantly. "You shouldn't read anything into this. There's shit all over the internet that isn’t true."

I looked at the screen and gasped as I finally digested what was on the screen in front of me.

Raining frogs is a sign from God.

The word “apocalypse” shimmered and waved before my bleary eyes as I sat back with a gasp.

“Holy shit.”

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Other Books by Savannah Skye

Her Demon Harem 1 (Succubus Chronicles)

Her Demon Harem 2

A Witch’s Harem

Kidnapped by the Dragon Harem

Her Howling Harem

Her Vampire Harem

Axe to Grind

Breaking Colt

Better to Eat You

Hard Lesson

Hard Sell

Bad Boy Next Door

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