Of Boys and Beasts: a Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance: Pandemonium Academy Royals, #1

By Mona Black

* The series is now COMPLETE! *

 

One's a werewolf with an ax to grind

Two's a vampire with a heart of coal

Three's a demon with a taste for pain

Four's a fae with a past of woe

Five's a girl who will take them down all

In revenge for the pain they've sown

So what if they're gorgeous? They must atone…

 

My name is Mia Solace. You know, the girl who will take them down all? That's me.

When my cousin is returned to us by Pandemonium Academy in a glass coffin, in an enchanted sleep she isn't expected to wake up from, I grab her diary and head to the academy myself.

Because her diary, you see, tells of four cruel boys who bullied her and broke her heart until she sought oblivion through a spell.

Four magical boys, because that's the world we live in now, heirs of powerful families attending this elite academy where the privileged scions of the human and magical races are brought together in the noble pursuit of education.

As for me, I cheat to get on the student roster, and once I'm in, well… it's war, baby. I'll get those four sons of guns, steal their secrets, make them hurt. I'll transform into an avenging angel for my cousin, for all the girls they've wronged, and I bet there are plenty of those.

While growing up, my cousin was my only friend. Now I'll be her champion.

Only these boys aren't exactly as I pictured them. Devastatingly handsome, deliciously brooding, strangely haunted, they're getting under my skin and through my defenses.

Kissing them surely wasn't part of my plan…

Getting into bed with them even less.

 

*OF BOYS AND BEASTS is a full-length paranormal reverse harem romance novel, meaning the main character has more than one love interest. This is book one of four, and it ends on a slight cliffhanger. There is a happily ever after at the end of the series. For TW, look inside the book. By book 3 there will be mm scenes. For 18+ only.*

* This book uses alternating points of view – one boy point of view chapter for every two of the heroine (mostly).*

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black Wing Press
• Release date: Apr 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201236618

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Since the magic races were recognized in the constitution and started living among us openly, the world seems to have changed. Things we believed impossible are, in fact, possible, and fairytales have become twisted stories you don’t want to tell the children about.

This land is not at peace.

And neither am I.

Not since my cousin collapsed and was brought home a few days ago, still and pale like death, though her chest is rising and falling with shallow breaths. Not since I started doubting my place in the world, in this adoptive house I inhabit, in the Church of the Angel with its many books and just as many prohibitions.

But back to my cousin.

Ophelia Katrina Apollinari—Lia for friends and family—is the kind of girl who leaves a path strewn with dazed boys in her wake. She’s a dark-haired goddess, smart, great at school, a flirt—and the only real friend I have in the world.

That’s easy when you’re homeschooled and have been living in the Church house all your life.

Well, most of my life, since I was adopted when I was four. Now I’m eighteen. And my life has just crashed around my ears.

Ophelia lies in state in her bedroom, in her house beside the Church, and I’ve sat by her side and cried my eyes out. Father always demands I get home before nightfall but he hasn’t scolded me. I think he’s more shaken by what happened to Ophelia than he’ll ever admit, and Mother is quiet and sad, though there is anger in her hooded eyes.

The other night, I overheard them talking about the school Ophelia attended—Pandemonium Academy—a rich kids’ school. They were blaming the school’s system, their lack of discipline, the bullies there.

What truly happened?

See, my cousin has fallen into an enchanted sleep. The doctor was summoned to examine her and mumbled something under his breath about a surge in her blood—which he took by pricking her pinkie—about a spell and severe blood loss, about not entertaining any hopes of her waking up. That this is a new way to suicide in this brave new world: through a spell, paid through blood. Lying forever in state under glass for people to weep and sigh over.

And the pain of her loss is a blade in my heart, twisting, twisting. I can’t believe it. No, not Ophelia. Not her. This isn’t fair. This can’t be right.

Was my cousin bullied? Was that why she took her own life? What sort of bullying goes down in a school attended by the magical races?

I hate magical beings. They’re stronger than us humans, they have every advantage over us, and yet have the same rights. They’re malevolent, Father always says, carrying in their blood traces of the demons that created them.

They’re cruel, abominable… and fascinating.

But it gets more complicated than that.

There are four names listed in my cousin’s diary. The diary I borrowed from her purse right before her mother shut her inside a glass coffin. Yes, borrowed it, all right? I’ll return it to her… when I am done with it.

Even if she has no use for it anymore. Even if it’s hard to think of her as gone. Her absence hurts too badly.

Four names. Four, scribbled over and over, underlined, struck out, turned into spirals and stars, blending into each other, merging with skulls and serpentine forms.

And in the pages between, there is information—on their Houses, the history of their bloodlines, famous ancestors, known incidents. Known proclivities and preferences of their races. Finally, descriptions of the four boys’ appearance, making it easy to imagine them.

She has told me about boys she liked but I hadn’t realized… I hadn’t understood what it was about and I’m still not sure. These names. The obsession. The history. The symbols. The implied anger.

But then I get it. I get it, Lia. Somewhere in the back of the diary, in a corner, there are hearts with arrows beside their names, dripping blood, and then the words she wrote that make everything clear:

‘Why are they doing this to me? Denying me. Refusing me. I can’t take this anymore. I don’t know what to do… It hurts so badly. They matter so much to me, but they don’t know it. Soon they will feel my pain.’

Oh God… She fell for them. Being the bright, open-minded spirit she is, she tried to flirt with these boys, and they went for her.

Went for her and hurt her badly.

A surge of magic, the doc said. A form of suicide.

Someone used my cousin’s blood to perform a spell that put her into an eternal sleep. Did she ask them to perform it on her? Or was it an accident? Did she try to repel them? To attract them? To save herself? To forget? To die?

I’d heard of a similar case on the radio a couple of months ago about a girl who begged a vampire to put her in a forever sleep because she couldn’t face life anymore. Or did I hear it from Mother? Mother likes to report what wagging tongues say or what she read in the newspapers and then indict it as wrong and devilish.

If so, it’s on them. On these boys. They made her life such hell she couldn’t face living another day.

Freaking bullies.

So it’s decided. I’m running away from home. Going to the Academy. They are about to meet a brand-new student, the persona complete with fake papers and identity.

Ophelia told me that boys will confide in you if they fancy you, if they think they can get you naked. So I’ll become that girl.

I’ll transform myself—without magic, for the record—into an angel of retribution. I’ll find those boys. They won’t escape.

They did this to her.

And I will exact vengeance.

1

MIA

The school looks like a fantasy set: old buildings with turrets and arches, gnarled trees in rows and groves in the distance.

Pandemonium Academy is prestigious, hundreds of years old, and filled to the brim with students belonging to the magical races as well as a few lucky humans, ages fourteen to nineteen, number unknown.

Too little else is known, in fact, about the school and it makes me uneasy.

The unease grows as I wait for the secretary in the admissions office to acknowledge me.

She doesn’t seem thrilled to meet me. Well, the feeling is mutual. Her face looks like she’s been sucking on a lemon all her life.

How may I help you? she finally deigns to say in a tone that suggests she has no desire to help me at all.

I’m a new student. I have just arrived.

A little late in the year, aren’t you? For your final school year, no less.

I shrug and offer no explanation.

Her eyes rake up and down my form, and I think I detect a flash of disdain in their cold depths. It makes me want to laugh. Never judge a book by its cover, I want to tell her. You don’t know what’s inside my head. Why I dress how I dress. Why I do what I do. Disdain slides right off me.

Lady, I’ve trained with cold disgust and scorn, buried in a basement with old things, sleeping on a cot, washing floors until my hands bled, praying every night for sins I don’t recall committing. In my short time on this earth, I’ve carried the burden of generations. Think I’ll be cowed into submission by your arched, over-plucked brow?

That’s right. You don’t like my clothes? Not up to par for this precious Academy? Tough. I’m not here to blend in and take notes. I’m here to kick ass and take names.

Strangely, I expected the outside world to be fearsome, to crush me the moment I stepped foot outside, but so far, it’s been a let-down. Well, in that respect, at least, and only so far.

I have yet to meet the students.

I have yet to meet the four bullies who put my cousin in a glass coffin.

You say your name is Milly? the secretary asks. Linda Worthy, her name tag reads. Kind of pretentious if you ask me. Worthy of what?

Mia. Mia Solace.

I don’t have such a name on the list, she says, making my heart stop. Are you sure that’s your name?

Yeah, I’m sure. With what I paid to get my name on that list, it had better be.

"Yes, madam, or Yes, Miss Worthy," she reprimands me, pushing golden-rimmed glasses up her nose.

Yes, madam, I parrot, managing not to roll my eyes too much.

Hm. Let me check the other folder.

"Other folder?"

She’s rifling through papers and papers, stacks of them. At the Church, there is only one computer and only Father has access to it. Devil’s toys, he calls all technology, and sure, the net fails quite often. But surely at a prestigious academy, they must have an electronic filing of the students? How else did the hacker I paid put my name on the list?

I have a sudden, terrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

No, Miss Solace. Your name is not on my list. Miss Worthy shakes a bunch of papers at me triumphantly. You said you talked to me on the phone? I don’t recall such a conversation.

I talked to someone, I say, my voice growing smaller, and I fight to raise it again. Can’t show weakness, can’t let anyone think I don’t belong here. Maybe it wasn’t you.

No idea who else it could be. Her glare is formidable. Be that as it may, you are not enrolled in the Academy, so I will have to ask you to leave the premises immediately. We do not take to trespassers and hooligans kindly.

I’m no hooligan, I breathe, the sound barely leaving my lips, retreating into my shell, because I’m a bookworm. A quiet wallflower. A worthless girl. That’s who I’ve always been.

Crap, no. No! I’m a fiend, an avenger, a missile on a mission.

Maybe my name is in the computer, I suggest. If you would care to check. I’m pretty sure it must be there.

"The student list is not in a computer. Never trust machines, I always say. Her smile is victorious. It’s only on paper. To avoid tampering."

Shit.

I was duped. Gave my money—well, the money I took from Mother’s piggy bank—to that hacker for nothing. And now I’m stranded in this strange world with not a penny to my name and nowhere to go. Worse still, without my revenge.

It’s a hollow feeling. A sense of dark despair, of drowning in failure. A sense of⁠—

"Check the first list again, madam," a low, male voice says from the door of the office and I turn around, my heart pounding.

A tall guy is standing there, leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a gray shirt and black slacks, arms folded over a broad chest. His black hair hangs in his eyes and his grin is sharp and wicked. A ring gleams on his middle finger, inset with a black gem.

Black seems to be his favorite color.

The secretary casts him an annoyed look, eyes narrowed. I have already checked.

Check again. We’ve been expecting her. I bet her name is in there. He shakes the hair out of his eyes and slants his gaze at me. His eyes are a pale shade of gray, and they look amused. Hi, Mia Solace.

I frown at him. He’s cute for a bullshitter. Expecting me? I didn’t even expect myself to make it this far. And now…

Oh, dear God, the secretary whispers, her expression stricken. You’re right. The name is here. How did I miss it?

What? What did just happen?

It’s a short, boring name. He winks at me as if his taunt is cute. Easy to miss.

As is the drop of blood welling on his forefinger. So easy to miss if you haven’t been staring as I have.

He follows my gaze and lifts his hand to his mouth, licking the blood off. His eyes seem to darken.

If you have used magic without permission, the consequences will be dire, the secretary tells him, but her expression is uncertain.

I know, he says gravely. But you know me, Miss Worthy. I’d never break the rules. I’d rather die than disappoint you.

Her thin brows draw together. You’re laying it on too thick, Mr. D’Aube.

His grin returns. Am I?

Why would he cast a spell to put my name on the list? Why would he get himself into trouble for me? He doesn’t know me.

Well. Miss Worthy straightens her shoulders. Apologies again for the error, Miss Solace. Welcome to Pandemonium Academy.

I incline my head, excitement replacing the despair. I’m in! I can’t believe it. I’m on the list.

You owe me, the cute bullshitter says to me as he pushes off the door frame, and whoa, he’s built. You can’t mistake the ripple of muscles under his surely expensive, custom-tailored pants and shirt. Though, those clothes aren’t doing you any favors, new girl, I have to say.

A bullshitter and an ass.

Nobody asked you, I mutter.

Go back to class, Mr. D’Aube, Miss Worthy says with a sniff. Why are you even here? Did you need anything?

Nothing of importance. And anyway, my work here is done. Another wink and he’s gone, striding out into the cloudy morning.

Miss Worthy shakes her head and heaves another sigh. These boys. Let’s hope you’re a prudent girl and won’t mingle with them. Keep away from them, Miss Solace, if you know what’s good for you.

These boys.

A shiver runs down my spine, because his name finally clicks. D’Aube, I whisper. "This guy was Ronan Ashton?"

You know Ashton? She frowns. So he wasn’t lying about expecting you, after all.

Oh, he was lying all right. My mouth feels numb and my limbs cold.

Ronan Ashton Marais D’Aube.

Vampire bloodline.

Heir to the most powerful vampire family in the country.

And number one on my cousin’s bully list.

When you’ve spent your formative years inside four walls, only talking to characters in books and slogging through silent dinners with your adoptive parents, your view of the outside world is dim. As in, practically nonexistent.

Sure, there is still radio and TV, usually tuned to news and religious channels—and there’s your cousin.

Your cousin is a magical window into the wide, crazy, post-apocalyptic world outside. Ophelia taught me everything I know about what’s out there—the people, the fashion, the trends, the gizmos, the music, the movies, the school. Showed me stuff on her smartphone the few times she had net connection and talked for hours about the politics and tensions of the new order.

Since the Coalescence—the explosion of demonblood magic that put the magical races at the top of the food chain and led to violent clashes between the human and them—technology has crashed time and again. The economy, too. Sometimes the net works, sometimes not. Sometimes the TV channels work, sometimes not. What used to be standard isn’t reliable anymore.

Ophelia told me all there is to know about the world but to be honest, it all felt more or less like the insides of yet another book. Like a fantasy. Like a saint’s fevered vision of a world reduced to ashes.

If it wasn’t for the news I kept hearing, I’d have thought it a lie. Riots were common among the races coexisting in the cities, gang violence, as well as the occasional martyr, though that was mostly in the underprivileged quarters and towns. Rich families dealt in secretive feuding and concealed spells to gain the upper hand in negotiations with the other races and to earn trading and financial privileges.

Just like unmagical humans had always done, I guess. Only the laws and rules were now bending to accommodate the magical beings, too, though still inadequate to deal with the insidious power of magic.

Through Ophelia, her amazing smartphone and her stories, through her clothes and confidence, I had an idea of how things worked in the real world.

And yet here I am now, feeling more like a ghost or an imaginary character. A character out of place. As we cross the Academy grounds, I think of the vampire boy’s words, see the glances other students throw my way, and I’m more aware than ever of how drab and formless my clothes are, how boring my fall of dark hair on my back. Here I’m like an alien from outer space.

If I want this to work, I need to reinvent myself. To become that avenging angel, I need to change into a girl nobody would single out in a rich kids’ academy. And more than that… into a girl those boys might look at again and again. Transform from bookworm to butterfly.

I need to find a tutor. A girl to take me under her wing, show me what to do. Take a crash course in confidence but also fashion, completing the reversal of my world.

I’ll do it. After all, I ran in the night with a backpack and some money, took bus after bus, wandered through city centers, my heart racing, everything around me new and unexpected. I was so frigging scared. Terrified.

But when you have a goal, an important goal, you do what you got to do.

Before getting here, I had no way of planning anything specific. Heck, it’s a miracle I managed to find a way in.

Now I need to change Madeline Mina into a new person, a new girl. A girl with a presence, not a wall flower. A girl with sex appeal, not a scared virgin hiding in a library. A girl who is kick-ass and will take names.

Those four names, in fact.

Change into Mia Solace.

When I look at myself in the mirror, that’s who I should see already. No more hiding in fantastic, cozy worlds where everything is under control. No more being afraid to go out lest I lose my soul, as my father threatens. No more wondering who I am, who my real parents are, why they gave up on me, whether anyone will ever truly love me.

Those were pathetic fears and doubts, all burned out in the fury of my sorrow for losing my cousin, my soul sister, my one true friend.

Watch out boys of the Pandemonium Academy, for here I come.

2

MIA

H ere is your room, Mia, Miss Worthy says. Looks like secretary is an umbrella term for a jack of many trades here at the Academy. She seems to be a sort of a concierge, taking care of arrivals and settling them in, aside from her secretarial tasks. Bed, closet, desk there under the window. You have fresh linen on the bed but you will have to wash them yourself. There is a launderette behind the refectory. And towels, too, here, in your private bathroom.

Wow. Students at the Academy really have it good. No common showers for these little princesses and princes. I drop my battered backpack on the bed and look around, doing my best not to gape. The covers on the bed look soft and warm, the carpet on the floor is a lush gray, the curtains white, the desk black. It’s stark but in an elegant, expensive way.

Nothing like my room back home that gave stark a whole new meaning.

Oh, and I’d store away my cell phone if I were you, she goes on. I hadn’t realized she was still talking. It won’t work. You rarely get reception on the grounds. Too many magic surges. Too many heirs to powerful magical families casting spells against the regulations, you see.

Right.

I mean, I’m still reeling from having met Ronan Ashton. I’d never met a vampire before. Father and Mother would never let one cross their doorstep, and few magical beings ever made it to our little village. The pictures they’d shown me were drawings of frightful creatures, half-human and half-demon with huge teeth and red eyes, claws on their hands, biting into people’s necks, draining them of blood.

But Ashton, he’d looked… normal.

Okay, who am I kidding? He’d looked devastatingly handsome, even cute with his floppy dark hair and gray eyes, and as for that body…

Stop thinking about how cute he is. Or about his body. It isn’t helping.

Anything else you need, come and find me at the office. She casts me another disdainful look. "Your… friends must be in class. In theory, at least."

I nod, not sure what to say.

And make sure to come down to the refectory for lunch and dinner. A girl who hangs out with vamps needs to eat well.

She leaves me spluttering. What is she thinking, that I’ve offered myself as a bloodbag for the vampires of the Academy?

I sit down on the bed, gathering my backpack close, all I have left from my past life. A few clothes. Ophelia’s diary. My registration papers.

Blood, I think as she goes, leaving me there to take it all in. It’s a question of blood, or more precisely of magic in the blood. Bloodlines. Ancient families of ancient races and the power they can wield. Some families claim they are pureblood, undiluted, unpolluted. Which is a load of crap. No