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  Bride to Keep

  A Dark Reverse Harem Romance

  Alta Hensley

  Maggie Ryan

  Bride to Keep

  By

  Alta Hensley and Maggie Ryan

  Copyright 2018© Alta Hensley and Maggie Ryan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Thank you to Jay Aheer for the amazing cover! Also a big thank you to Kate Richards for editing and helping our book turn to magic! We also can’t forget our amazing betas! You all know who you are, and we love you. And of course all the readers who have supported us along the way. We have the best team in the world.

  Contents

  Find Out More About Alta & Maggie

  Bride To Keep

  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

  Letter To Our Readers

  About Alta Hensley

  About Maggie Ryan

  Find Out More About Alta & Maggie

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  Alta Hensley

  Maggie Ryan

  Dedication

  We dedicate this book to our true friends. You raise us up when others try to bring us down. We wouldn’t be where we are today without you… our friends.

  Bride To Keep

  Do you take these men?

  To honor and obey from this day forth…

  Stolen away by dangerous men on a mission.

  Dark intentions I don’t understand yet cannot refuse.

  Commanded to comply, obey, and serve in every way.

  I am captured in a twisted world of not one man…

  — but four.

  With a pull stronger than anything I have ever known, I march down the aisle compelled to surrender to the darkness.

  With these rings... I become their bride to keep.

  *This is a standalone full-length dark reverse harem. Dirty taboo with not just one, but four. You may be afraid to walk down the aisle on this one.

  Chapter One

  Cal O’Shea

  Ashes to ashes, dust to motherfucking dust.

  Standing in the shadows, my brothers and I watched as the flames leapt from the mansion to lick at the sky. I couldn’t help but think that fire was the ultimate cleanser. Tremendous heat consumed all in its path—nature’s way of wiping the slate clean. This was the last of it—this fucking house the bastard called home, the epicenter of his entire empire. Flames had been our weapon to destroy all we could of Dallas Callaghan’s world. If I had my way, however, every man who worked for his syndicate would be turned to ash. And Dallas sure as hell would be frying to a crisp in that burning house of his as well. Instead, he was off in some unknown location allowing the dust to settle. He knew the O’Shea Brothers were out for blood, and he was too much of a coward to face us head on.

  It hadn’t been hard to find the location of Callaghan’s house. Nothing a little O’Shea torture couldn’t handle. My brothers and I had been impressed with the level of loyalty and commitment one of Callaghan’s men had displayed. Usually we could have our victims squealing within fifteen minutes, but this time it took us removing every single fingernail and toenail before the fucker began to crack. And even then, we had to remove most of his toes before he truly gave us everything we needed.

  When the roof caved in, the crash muffled by the roar of the fire, my brother Rogan said, “That’s the last of it. I think we have successfully burnt down everything that man has built or owned.”

  “He’s going to know it is us,” our younger brother, Nolan, said. “It’s just a matter of time until he comes to hunt us down.”

  “Good,” I snapped. “Let the fucker come.”

  “I’d rather die a torturous death at the hands of one of his goons than allow him to get away with killing our parents. Our revenge is still not over. Not until we get to stand over his body and watch it burn like we watched all his property become nothing but ash and smoke,” Derrick announced between clenched teeth. Always the O’Shea brother with the fiercest temper, and the brother feared the most, I glanced at Derrick’s fists balled at his sides.

  Yes, we were the O’Shea Brothers.

  Irish blood.

  Vengeful souls.

  Killer hearts.

  Dallas Callaghan picked the wrong family to cross.

  The sounds of sirens in the distance had me looking at the burning house again. “We need to get out of here,” I said, and I wasn’t just talking about the property we stood on.

  My brothers knew and agreed. We had discussed it at length, but the time had come. It was time for us to leave. The turf war between the O’Sheas and the Callaghans had grown to gruesome and epic proportions. We had lost our father—the head of our family enterprise—and our lovely mother as casualties. We had also lost many a fellow man in the fight. And as much as I hated to fucking admit it, with my father’s death, the Callaghans grew stronger while we grieved. There wasn’t much left of our empire, and my brothers and I were over the drug-and-gun trade war. We had something far more important to consider now… our sister’s safety. She was the only good we had left in our lives right now. The only light in our darkness.

  “Where’s Alana?” Nolan asked, clearly thinking of our sister as well. “She’s in more danger now than ever, and we can’t leave her alone for even a second until we leave.”

  “Where the fuck do you think she is?” I said with a shake of my head.

  “You told her to stay away from that damn place,” Rogan said, his attention remaining on the crumbling and burning structure.

  “I did,” I admitted. “But she has some odd fascination with that store. She likes all the magic charms and stuff. Fuck if I know.”

  “Well then, enough’s enough,” Derrick announced. “Let’s get our sister and get the fuck out of here before the O’Shea name becomes extinct.” He turned to look at me. “Where is this magic shop you say she’s always at?”

  Stepping away from the destruction we’d created, we moved through the darkening streets to where we’d left our car. I knew it would be the last time I drove these streets. I’d fought this war since being born into this Irish cartel. For what? To become so filled with hate and vengeance my jaw continually throbbed due to clenching my teeth? To lose my parents? To lose friends and even more family with the deaths of many of my cousins? It was a war I’d never win, and I knew this now. My brothers knew this. All that was left was carnage.

  I was exhausted.

  I was tired to the very marrow of my bones.

  I was fucking done.

  We were fucking done.

  Had I gone to the address to seek justice… sure. Had I found pleasure in destroying the house of my enemy… yes. But nothing would take away the pain from all I had lost. Nothing would repair my or my brothers’ broken souls. It was time to get the fuck out before we stepped any further over the line, or one of us joined
the other dead.

  I was so over this fucking shitty life. It was definitely time to get out of this hellhole. It was time to start over in a place where I made the goddamn rules instead of following those of the mob. I knew the time would come when we would have to face the Devil head on. I knew Hell would be our residence for eternity. But I sure as shit wasn’t ready to set up house there quite yet.

  Chapter Two

  Monet McKnight

  I made my living, as small and pathetic as it may be, convincing people I was a modern-day witch. I had grown a pretty decent reputation and had a fairly large client base. It wasn’t that I truly knew any witchcraft; I had just mastered the illusion. It was all image, staging, make-believe. But for the sake of my pocketbook… I’d created the atmosphere of magic.

  I took a match and lit several candles to help set the mood. A puff of smoky aroma danced its way upward in small spirals. A fusion of vanilla, cinnamon, and rose mixed to scent the room. My loving Granny G had taught me evoking every sense helped sales. I could hear her now. “Monet, you must consider something as elusive as a faint smell as a possible sale. If people like the aroma, they will seek to purchase the same scent for their homes.”

  I looked around Gigi’s Garden. My granny, Guinevere, who I had called Gigi or Granny G, had put her heart and soul into this place. She’d breathed life into what had once been an old, tired, out-of-date electronics store, turning it into a quaint shop offering far more than tea, tiny finger sandwiches, clotted cream, and scones. It was a pretty and peaceful place. One that welcomed a customer to browse among the many offerings either before or after they enjoyed a light repast. A dining alcove sat to one side. Large bay windows on two of the walls were filled with plants. Shimmering orbs and hanging crystals reflected the sunlight streaming through the panes of glass. Stepping from the eating space, a customer encountered attractive displays. Tins of various teas were stacked in appealing arrangements, pretty bottles filled with different colored lotions begged to be sampled, and potted plants softened hard edges of shelves as well as offered their very leaves or roots to be steeped into a healing, natural remedy for many ailments. Nature had been providing plants since time began, and healers had been guiding people to improve their lives. Granny G had taught me, and we both were firm believers in the power of holistic medicine.

  Although sadly, neither holistic nor pharmaceutical medicine had been able to help my grandmother. Cancer claimed her after a long battle. But as hard as it had been losing my only family, I knew her spirit would always be with me. I think that was why I still ran the shop… for her. It wasn’t truly my passion. But from the number of people currently browsing, it was the passion of many bill-paying people.

  Forget the fact I held degrees in both botany and biology. People who entered our shop weren’t interested in the science. They wanted the magic. And I’d learned to give them exactly what they wanted. It was time to get to work and try to make my daily quota in sales. I ran my hand through the haphazard brown curls cascading down my back, adjusted my cleavage in the tight-fitting leather bustier, and smoothed my ankle-length skirt. I was also a firm believer in dressing the part.

  Taking a deep breath, I held it for a long moment before releasing it slowly. With a huge smile, I announced, “If there is anything I can help you with, just let me know.” I knew it would only be moments before people who wanted to be ‘cured’ surrounded me.

  I offered my clients my diagnosis, my witchy insight, and my advice as to what would fix all their problems. Whatever reason brought them to me, I tried my best to give them their money’s worth. I didn’t see it as a con. In this crazy world where everything moved too fast and demanded so much, I saw it as a way to possibly give them hope and positive thought. If a few minutes of my time, a suggestion to switch from some pharmaceutical concoction to one Mother Nature provided eased their fear, anxiety, and pain, then I felt I’d more than fulfilled my job requirements.

  A frail woman was the first to approach. She began to spew her entire medical history before I could even open my mouth. Clients like these, made my job easy. I wouldn’t have to be as vague or open with my so-called supernatural powers. Getting this woman to buy any tea, potion, or crystal of my choosing would be a walk in the park. If I really tried, I knew I could manage the sale of all of the above.

  As the woman continued to talk, something had me turning my head over my shoulder, my gaze going instantly to four men standing in the corner of the store. A quick glance showed the curve of their lips lifted in amusement. Could they see through my guise? I could have ignored them, but people like these assholes were bad for business. They needed to be addressed and kicked out of my store.

  Turning back to the frail woman, I quickly guided her in the direction of the most expensive herbs in the store and snapped my fingers, causing my many bracelets to jingle. With Granny G now dead, I turned my customer over to the shop assistant I’d recently hired to help me. “Don’t you fret. Julie here is going to make sure you have everything you need. You’ll be amazed at how quickly you’ll be feeling better.” The woman seemed a little bewildered, but after I gave her a soft pat on the arm, she smiled and thanked me. Yup, my assistant could handle this one blindfolded. I had to deal with skeptical non-believers who just wanted to fuck with me.

  Gliding as seductively as I could—for it was time for me to truly fuck with them—I made my way to the back of the store. One of the men was running his fingers over a glass orb, with what appeared to be amusement in his expression. Without a word, I lifted his rough-callused hand in mine as the other three watched. It wasn’t the fact that the size and strength of his hand made my own seem elfish in comparison, but the zap I felt with the connection that had me forgetting my purpose for a moment.

  He seemed startled as well, his brow quirking. I honestly didn’t know if he was questioning the fact that a spark had leapt between us or was wondering at my audacity in reaching for his hand. Remembering my intent, I decided it didn’t really matter. I had dealt with men and women like this group before. I had found facing them head-on usually caused them to back away and ultimately leave the store. I prided myself on my ability to appear unflappable, exuding a level of confidence that would prove too much for the poor, unbelieving souls to bear.

  Releasing the man’s hand, I took advantage of that spark and acted as if I’d been burnt. “Oh… ahhhh… there is a fire within you.” Keeping the drama was crucial.

  I swayed my hips and slowly closed my eyes, trying to ignore the way the man looked at me, and blocking out the snickers from the other three.

  “I can feel the burn. I can almost taste the liquid heat that is melting your soul.” I had to bite back a giggle as the sentence left my mouth. I knew I was laying it on thick, but I needed to make these skeptical fools uncomfortable as quickly as possible so they would leave the store. I had clients anxiously waiting for my attention and money to be made. The last thing I needed was to have these men mess with the mystical vibe I worked so hard to keep.

  The jerk chuckled brashly enough to be heard by all. The others turned their snickers into full-on belly laughs. I opened my eyes and swallowed down the anger building inside. Damn, this wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought. I could see that customers were watching my every move. I couldn’t let these arrogant pricks win.

  This required me to dig a bit deeper. I turned to one of the other men and grabbed his hand as well. Letting out a soft moan as if affected by the power entering me, I said, “The pain… the pain is in your back.” It was a good guess on my part, considering it was obvious he was a working man. The muscles in his frame, his rough hands, and the wear on his jeans were a real giveaway.

  “No. The pain is in my ass,” his husky voice abruptly cut in.

  I tried not to let the hint of intimidation win over. Over six feet of rugged, tightly muscled man with dark wavy hair set against sun-kissed skin was not going to do me in. Although his piercing blue eyes that looked more dangerous
than welcoming, might just do so.

  My reputation was on the line. I had no choice but to continue on, pretending he hadn’t even spoken. I reached for the hand of another and repeated my actions by taking a deep breath. “And for you… an old injury is being made worse by your daily living.”

  I could feel the gazes from all four men burning right through me. Well, what’s that saying? In for a penny, in for a pound? I avoided any eye contact as a shiver worked its way through me that made that spark inconsequential. They were throwing me off, and that wouldn’t do at all.

  I shifted my body so I could reach for the last of the four men’s hand, and said softly, “Being a hardworking man…” I paused to take a sneak peek at the man’s rigid jawline.

  The first man I had touched crossed his arms against his chest and took two steps toward me, closing any distance we had between us. The uncomfortable closeness had me dropping the other man’s hand and taking a step back

  “Lady, how much of a fool do you take me and my brothers for?” He looked at the others—who were all smirking—and then looked around the store with a laugh. “Your readings and crystal balls are nothing but crap.”