Marks of the Mazza: Reverse Harem (Mazza Series Book 1) Read online

  “How sweet, you order for him.” I laugh but stop myself. I cough, clear my throat, and snatch the menus off the end of the table. “I mean, I’ll have that right out!” I squeak.

  As I scurry away, Douche—Sage—growls some kind of response to Smiley, but it’s too low for me to make it out.

  Stopping by Mrs. Henderson’s table, I drop off her check. She always pays in crisp, twenty-dollar bills and never asks for change. I love her mother-hen manner almost as much as I love that she tips big.

  “Dear, are those men bothering you?” she fake whispers as she nods in the direction of the strange men two booths behind her.

  “No, ma’am. They’re just strangers, that’s all.” Guess I’m not hiding my discomfort as well as I thought.

  “Well in that case, you should snatch one of them up before they’re taken. You won’t be a young lady forever. I’m trying to teach Beth we have to snag ’em while we still have our beauty.” She winks at me.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the advice. Have a great day!” I rush away from her table before I get any more unsolicited women’s knowledge. I’m part of the sisterhood, but I can’t take any more of her outdated, sexist opinions. I roll silverware at the counter while watching her and Beth leave out of the corner of my eye.

  It might hurt my chances of a good tip, but I don’t make my way back to the guys’ table until I have their food. Holding their plates high as I navigate the tables, I mentally prepare myself for the next encounter. I’m usually a cool cucumber, but my composure goes out the window in the vicinity of these strange men.

  Plastering the biggest smile on my face, I set the plates down and rotate them for the best presentation achievable for diner food.

  “Watch the plates. They’re hot. Let me know if you need anything else.” I jump when Smiley darts out his hand and snatches my right wrist.

  He turns my hand over and runs his thumb over my pulse point, which is currently thundering like the hooves of racehorses. His thumb stops below my light blue, oddly shaped freckle that resembles a jagged lightning bolt. These fellas are starting to seem obsessed with my random birthmarks. For some reason, I don’t pull away. I just fall victim to the hypnotic slide of his thumb. When he finally looks up at me, there is something different behind his eyes than amusement. In a hard blink, he shutters his expression and smiles a glorious smile that does not feel like the sun peeking through the clouds after days of overcast skies. Does not.

  “Thank you, my sweet,” he murmurs. “My name is Jari, and this here is Sage. What’s your name?” I peek at Sage, and for some reason he seems even more unhappy.

  I point at my nametag that neither man has apparently looked at. “Isolde.”

  Warmth spreads through my body from his touch. I like it too much. With regret, I pull my hand away and immediately feel the loss.

  “Enjoy. I’ll be back to check on you shortly.”

  I somehow don’t have to go over to that table often. I only had to refill once and didn’t make any conversation at all, although I felt two sets of eyes heavy on my face. When I go back around to drop the check, the two men are deep in conversation and oblivious to my presence. I slow down and pull the dish rag out of the back of my apron to wipe down Mrs. Henderson’s empty table.

  “I don’t like it. I have shared my feelings on this multiple times.” That was Sage.

  “It doesn’t matter what you think. That makes two marks we have seen in less than twenty-four hours. Mine and Nato’s. We need to investigate this.” There’s rustling, like Jari leaned into the table.

  “Are you sure that’s what you saw?” Sage lowers his voice.

  Jari scoffs. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see it. You must be thicker in the head than even I gave you credit for.”

  They’re talking about me. There’s no way they aren’t talking about me. I leave the cloth on the table and head to the bathroom. I lock the door and turn my back into it, leaning on my hands behind me. My pulse thunders. I open my eyes and find my reflection in the mirror. Slowly, I draw closer. It’s the same person I see every day. Small upturned nose. Plump lips if a little narrow. Dark, dark blue eyes that almost look black. Blonde hair so light it looks white, hanging around my neck in a low ponytail. Raising a shaking finger, I touch the birthmark on my cheek.

  The mark is a faint lavender in color, maybe the size of a pea. It looks like the sun cresting the horizon. Four little fingers reach upward from the sun, only it’s all on a vertical axis instead of horizontal.

  Does it mean anything, or are these just crazy people? I could have misunderstood what they were talking about. But I don’t think so. Not after the redhead’s reaction last night, and then Jari’s at lunch.

  Splashing water on my face in hopes of clearing my head, I use my fingers to wipe the excess from my eyes.

  Now is not the time to think about it.

  THREE RAPID KNOCKS come at the door.

  I jump out of my skin, almost knocking my head on the mirror.

  I grab a paper towel from the dispenser and dry the rest of the water from my face. With a mumbled sorry, I unlock the door and try to step into the hall. Instead, a massive form fills the doorway and shoves me backward. I jerk my head up and meet the deepest amber-brown eyes I have ever seen. One eye’s iris has a wide stripe of bright gold. These eyes belong to the driver from last night.

  How I know that, I can’t say, since it was so dark in the car. Call it woman’s intuition.

  His eyes are locked on the mark that the man from last night was so fascinated with. He must not have been able to see it from the driver’s seat. The way he’s staring is eerily similar to how that Jari dude looked at the mark on my wrist. Utter fascination, silent reverence.

  Before my brain registers that I’m in a one-room bathroom with one of those men alone, he shuts the door behind him and twists the lock.

  I gasp and back away. He’s too quick.

  His hands go to my shoulders and spin us around, slamming me into the door. As he presses his body into mine, his forehead to mine, my hands clutch his shirt at his sides. His body is scorching hot and he’s all that I can see and feel; he’s fast consuming my world. He kisses me with such brutal fierceness that I can do nothing but take it. His tongue forces entry into my mouth as he presses his body impossibly deeper into me.

  The kiss is over before it gets started when he tears himself away. His face nuzzles my neck, and he whispers, “You don’t know how long we’ve looked…” I feel a buzzing in my head. My vision blurs before it dims into a black fog.

  This motherfucker dru…

  Why is my head pounding so hard?

  My tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth, and it’s a challenge to pry my lips apart. I try to roll over, but I just don’t have the energy. I see colors through my closed lids, so it’s daylight wherever I am.

  Someone moans like a drunk cat. Belatedly, I recognize it as my own voice. My head finally flops to the side as my memories start to fade back in.

  “I think she’s waking up,” a voice whispers from far away. It sounds as if the speaker is in a tunnel.

  “Shhh. She probably never experienced anything like that. It will probably take a few minutes.” Another hushed whisper. Clothes rustle near me, and soft footsteps lead away until the sound of the door snicking shut leaves silence.

  The last thing I remember is…the kiss. Man, that kiss. I have never been kissed like that.

  The driver from the night before was in the bathroom with me. And the darkness did me no favors when I tried to judge their features. It completely toned down the aura of masculine beauty and danger that these men gave off.

  I get one eye cracked open.

  My vision is still blurry, but it’s clearing up. My second eye opens, and I blink a few times. The world comes back into focus, and I see that I’m in a neatly kept bedroom with late afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window.

  White. Everything is white. The walls, the door, th
e dresser. Even the dust particles floating through the air.

  Motion draws my attention to the corner. In a chair sits the driver, looking as broody as last night as he watches me.

  When his gaze finds my searching eyes, he moves closer and kneels beside me. I must be on a bed. A pillow beneath my head rustles as I try to move again. I gain enough control to turn over a bit more and see him as he tilts his head down toward me.

  “How are you feeling? Would you like some water?” His speaks low, his voice deep and a bit raspy.

  I nod and close my eyes again. His hands push under my shoulders as he hauls me to a sitting position against the headboard. I feel a water bottle placed against my lips. I open my mouth, and he tilts the bottle so I get cold, refreshing water. I drink as much as I can before pressing my lips together and twisting my head away. He gets the message.

  “What happened?” I choke out. My voice sounds as though I haven’t used it in a year. He tilts the bottle toward my lips again and I sip. It helps with the scratchiness. This time he takes the water away first.

  He gives no answer, but I think back to right after the kiss.

  I gasp. “Did you drug me?” My voice is a little more forceful this time as I try to scoot away. My heart starts to pound and fear creeps in.

  “Shhh… It’s okay.” He sits on the bed next to me and gently pulls me in his lap as he arranges himself against the headboard. I want to protest, but I don’t have the energy. Still feeling a bit groggy, I lean into him against my will. Is this still whatever he drugged me with?

  “Tell me. What happened,” I demand in a whisper, closing my eyes once again.

  Damn, talking is hard work.

  “We found you. You don’t have any idea what that means. But we do. We found you.”

  He runs his hand up and down the outside of my thigh. My bare thigh.

  I struggle weakly and jerk to the side as much as my drugged body is able, while snapping my eyes open. Dressed only in my simple black cotton briefs and bra, I push against his chest, but he snags my hands, holding them to his chest with one arm. He places one of his heavy thighs over my legs. I am officially trapped.

  “Why am I undressed?” I sound surprisingly calm. Kudos to me for not freaking the fuck out.

  “We had to make sure it was you. We had to check for the other marks. I know that doesn’t make sense, but it will.” The arm that isn’t holding my hands wraps around my back and strokes my thigh close to my butt, making small, dizzying circles.

  I look up at him but remain quiet.

  In the silence, I take in the rest of his face. Eyes deep set under naturally arching brows. A face is more square than the others, with a rugged jawline. A flat line for a mouth. His features are more severe but no less handsome. His face is so close to mine I can feel his breath on my mouth.

  I’m not quite sure what to make of this. I’m not as afraid as I should be. My heart isn’t racing, my palms aren’t sweaty. All my natural reactions to fear are missing. But I guess that stems from his calm demeanor; he’s caressing my thigh instead of trying to hurt me. Even if I didn’t feel like I was in danger with him, or at least immediate danger, he still isn’t making any sense.

  “I don’t understand.” I relax into him, and the arm that is holding my hands captive wraps around my torso, hugging me to him. He seems to like that.

  I have to remember that. If he lets his guard down when I appear to be docile, I can use that to my advantage.

  “I know you don’t. Your clothes are on the chair. Why don’t you get dressed, and we can have this conversation with the others.” He presses his lips to mine more gently than I would have thought possible from the kiss in the bathroom.

  After a brief hesitation, he pulls away, setting me on the bed.

  I watch him walk out before I move.

  Others. That’s right, there are others. I am sitting on a queen-size bed covered in a plain white comforter. There are no personal items in sight. Just the bed, nightstand, and a dresser in the corner. Everything is so sterile and empty; this must be a guest room.

  At least he closed the door to provide me with a false sense of privacy. Everyone in this house probably saw my body. Bastards. I’m not sure what they found, or think they found, but it’s important to them. Important enough to drug and kidnap someone.

  MY JEANS AND white Village Diner shirt are lying neatly over the chair. I dress inhumanly quick, determined to get answers sooner rather than later. Opening the door, I stick my head out into the hallway. The house is modest and looks to be a mostly open floor plan. A living room straight ahead feeds into the kitchen and a small dining room. There are some decorations, a painting here, a cabinet there, but mostly it’s pretty bare.

  Stepping out, I stumble into the living room and notice three men draped around the couch and loveseat. I stand there, not saying anything, as they take me in with various expressions. The redhead from the other night looks wary but excited. Jari looks exuberant, and Sage looks downright angry.

  Hands fall firm on my hips as they propel me toward an empty recliner, where he sits down and pulls me sideways into his lap. My body stiffens as I glance around the room. Their expressions remain the same. Except Sage, who looks angrier.

  The man under me starts to speak.

  “I know you have a lot of questions. But first, I am Donato, Nato for short. I believe you remember Sage and Jari from the diner.” Both Sage and Jari give almost imperceptible head nods. “And the last man, who you probably remember from last night, is Egan.”

  Egan tips a smile at me and dips his head. I return the nod and turn around to face Donato, hopefully conveying that this story needs to keep rolling.

  “Did you know that you have a series of birthmarks on your body?” he continues.

  Because of my fair skin, I have a few birthmarks that are easily seen. Like the ones on my face and wrist.

  “This one”—I point at my cheek—“and this one.” I hold out my wrist.

  “You have two more.” He touches my shoulder. “Here you have the Caen mark. It looks like a distorted paw, if you will.” Nato drops his finger to the small of my back. “Here you have the Janer mark. This mark isn’t really such a distinctive object but more a recognizable shape. The mark resembles a barely curved S.”

  I try to twist around to pull up my shirt, but it’s no use. I’ll have to check it out later.

  “This one”—he touches my wrist—“is the Levan mark.” Nato brings his hand up and cups my cheek. His thumb brushes gently over my birthmark. “And here,” he whispers, “is the Zien mark.”

  He drops his hand to my lap and drapes his arm over my legs. “We are a race of people that originated from this world, long before humans evolved. A supernatural people with many different power designations. We are probably what you would most likely refer to as Fae, but that is a loose comparison. There are four branches or houses within our people, and each house has a mark that its members are born with. I have the Zien mark, which means I am from the house that holds power over the mind.” He leans away to lift his shirt and show off an expansive amount of tan skin and toned abs. A small mark that is identical to mine is visible on his left hip. Dropping his shirt back in place, he gestures to Egan, who is closest to us.

  “Egan has the Caen mark, which means his house has power over animals. Jari has the Levan mark. The Levan House has power over nature, or the elements. And finally we have Sage, who is from House Janer. He has that mark on his body, and it means that his house has control over metal, and…” I glance at Nato, and he looks like he is trying to find the right words. “I believe technology would be the best way to put it.”

  I find myself shaking my head. These guys are crazy. Abso-freaking-lutely crazy. They were probably eating tide pods and snorting condoms as kids.

  “If that’s true, then why do I have all these marks? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Nato glances at the others and then back at me. I suspect I won’t get the f
ull truth, at least not yet. “There have only ever been a few handfuls of people who have more than one house branded on their bodies. It is usually a sign of great change when these people are born. That is why we have been searching for you. We felt relatively certain that you would come in our time.”

  “So, there are people that have just two or three marks?”

  “No. We have no history of anyone with two or three marks. You either have them all or you have one.”

  Nato exudes calmness, completely contradictory to the way he’s flipping my world inside out.

  “That doesn’t make sense. There is no way that you could tell that I had more than this mark on my face when I jumped into the car.” I huff in exasperation.

  “We know every Fennin in the area, and a facial mark is almost unheard of. That alone is enough to follow you.”

  “Two questions. First, you make it sound like I am one of a kind. I can tell you though, there is no supernatural power in my family at all. Zilch, nada. None. I guess that was more of a statement.” I shake my head a little to clear my thoughts. “Secondly, I read all about the Fae as a little girl. If the stories are to be believed, the Fae have left to live in another realm. Hence, not here.”

  “First, I wouldn’t say you are one of a kind, but definitely rare. There could be other people out there with all the marks right now. Several hundred years ago, we knew of two alive at the same time. But I also don’t believe in coincidences. I feel in my soul that we were supposed to meet you. Secondly—” He gripped my hips tighter, pulling me more firmly into him. “Yes, our people do live in a different realm. It is accessible from many points on Earth, and we still travel freely between the two realms. That way we have the best of both worlds in Fennina, what we call our home realm.”

  “This has all been swell, but I think I’m ready to go home now.” I attempt to get off his lap, but he holds firm. This is becoming a pattern.

  Nato acts as if I’m his. As if he has rights to me, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I don’t like it, but it doesn’t bother me the way it should.