Greed's Charity (Seven Deadly Sins Book 1)

by R. A. Pollard

  “Not yet, but I am working on it.” Lust infected his voice. Mammon sank his fingers into her damp hair pulling her head back, his demanding kiss stealing her breath away and making her toes tingle.

  Shower sex was definitely on Isabelle’s sexual to-do list, one of the many, many additions she’d made in the last couple of hours. With cool tile at her back and a hot, hard demon pinning her front, she decided shower sex was going to be a high-ranking item on her recurring list.

  Mammon finally broke their embrace. “We’d best get out of this shower or there will be no dinner left. Ze has a bottomless pit for a stomach.”

  Isabelle laughed. This male had an innate ability to make her forget everything else around her with just one kiss. The water was getting cold against her back, and it was time to get out before she froze. She turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing the closest towel and wrapping it around herself tightly. She could feel his green eyes on her as she took a second towel and rubbed her wet hair before heading into the bedroom.

  Sliding onto the bed, she curled a leg under her and watched as her demon emerged from the bathroom in all his full, naked glory. The scars that crisscrossed his body didn’t even faze her. Isabelle tilted her head as his hand dipping into her hair and his mouth claimed hers in a kiss that made her forget about the chill from the shower. God he tasted like honey and sin, all the things she had desperately needed all her life. Now, here he stood before her in carved, perfected glory. She had never felt so lucky.

  Mammon slid down onto the sheets next to her, clasping his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. This had to be the most peaceful she had ever seen him. Silently, Isabelle reached out and traced a rather nasty scar along his leg and towards his groin. She accepted him as he was, everything about him. Still, there was a part of her that needed to know. Hades had told her he’d made a mistake in punishing his son. The scars showed her what happened, but he hadn’t said a thing about his time in that hell.

  “Isabelle, it’s okay to ask. I will tell you.”

  Her eyes moved to his, and she licked her lips. She didn’t want their wonderful evening to be tainted with a past that clearly still affected him. “It’s okay Mammon, we don’t have to talk about it.”

  The demon ran his finger along her jawline. Her eyes met his, and he leaned in, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I want you to know.” The heat from his body drove away any chill in the air. She placed her ear on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and waiting for him to speak.

  “I don’t know why I did it, letting the Seer go. It was something about her…” He stroked Isabelle’s hair, his fingers playing over the bare skin between her shoulders. She remained silent, letting him get his story out in his own time. “She had your eyes. I assume by now Hades has told you about your past?”

  Isabelle nodded, although all he had mentioned was she had been reborn from a woman who lived back in the time of Henry VIII. She had a history that seemed to encompass them both, and she needed to know more. He continued to speak, propping his head against the pillow.

  “The woman I was sent to retrieve was called Kathrine Abell. I had never questioned my Father before then. I went to court to find her. I was supposed to seduce her, drug her and take her to Hades. Yet I took one look in her eyes, your eyes, and I knew I couldn’t harm her. That I wouldn’t take her to him as ordered. That was the catalyst for my imprisonment.”

  “What was I like? I mean she—what was she like?” Her fingers played over his chest.

  “Until I met you I had forgotten. Your eyes were the trigger. Your scent. You’re so like her, yet so different…” His eyes closed as he continued to speak.

  500 years ago - England, King Henry VIII’s Court

  The King’s court was a bustle of hype and activity. Tonight, his Royal Highness King Henry VIII was introducing his new Queen, Anne Boleyn, a unique and powerful woman. She had somehow seduced and bewitched the king so thoroughly, he had broken from the Roman Catholic Church so he might divorce his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, and marry this young thing. The court was buzzing with gossip. Why he was marrying her? Was she with child? Would it be legitimate? Of course, none would say a word within earshot of His Royal Highness. Henry wasn’t known for his mercy.

  Mammon stood off to the side. His doublet was rubbing his neck raw and these stupid tights were cutting off the circulation to his cock. No wonder so many men were having trouble getting a hard-on these days—it was the damn tights! He pulled at his collar again, which earned him a smack on the hand from Ze, who stood beside him. He made a point of straightening the collar Mammon was ruining.

  “Stop fidgeting. You won’t impress anyone if you look like you have been dragged through a bush before coming in here.”

  Ze himself was dressed in a fashionable copper and brown shirt, with the most ridiculous puffy sleeves Mammon had ever seen. But it was the damn hat that made him want to break into laughter. Feathered and bejeweled, it sat perched upon Ze’s head like some bird.

  Mammon smirked and knocked Ze’s hands away. “Go look after yourself, you great peacock. I can’t believe I have to wear this trash.” Mammon smoothed down his own shimmering white and blue shirt. The embroidered gold inlay was intricate and elaborate, to represent his wealth. “If you’re going to seduce a woman, you need to look the part,” Lucifer had told him. Then he shoved him into so many clothes Mammon was sure the lack of circulation had killed any chance of seduction for the next month.

  “Look, you have one job, Seduce the woman. Make her drink the wine, then we’re out of here.” Ze sighed and turned his eyes back to the court. Mammon followed his gaze, observing the parade of people vying for the attention of a man who clearly had no sense of smell. Damn, if you spent more than five minutes in a room with the King, you could smell the wound on his leg from a hunting trip. It had been months now and the thing was clearly infected. Of course, no one had the balls to tell the fat bastard his leg was rotting.

  Turning his attention back to Ze, Mammon asked, “Why am I doing it? Where is Asmodeus? Or you for that matter. Why can’t you bed the girl?” Mammon pulled at his collar again and sighed. He was sweating profusely under all this frilly crap.

  “Asmodeus is busy in France, as you well know, and as for me, I have my own target tonight. Just use those charms I know you have and bed the wench.” Ze straightened his own shirt, giving his brother one last stern look before vanishing into the glittering crowd.

  Mammon sighed and automatically pulled at his collar. If he was going to have to seduce someone, it wasn’t going to be with his throat half closed off and his face blue from lack of oxygen. Pushing away from the wall, he moved forward as the intricately and pompously dressed majordomo to the King entered and loudly announced his Royal Kingliness.

  “Lords, and Ladies! Presenting your Supreme Head of the Church of England, His Majesty, King Henry VIII and Her Royal Highness Queen Anne Boleyn. Long live the King!” The whole court mimicked the last phrase and either bowed or curtsied. Some were so drunk, they wobbled a bit. Mammon found it rather hilarious to watch all this pomp and circumstance for a mere mortal.

  The King himself entered the room, dressed in an elaborate golden brocade doublet with huge puffy sleeves that made his body look even more swollen. His legs were encased in bright white stockings. He wasn’t a small man by any stretch of the imagination, but dressed as he was, he looked four times larger, as was the fashion by royal decree. Thanks to everyone commenting on his wonderful legs, he had he taken to showing them off, rotting wound or not, which meant everyone did the same. The King’s low hose covered the wound, albeit not the smell. Got to give the man credit, though, he must be in pain, but he never showed it.

  The woman on his arm sported a demure expression, but her head was held high and triumph shone in her eyes. Hell, if Lucifer were here, he would have a field day with the level of pride coming from this woman. She had won the battle and married the king. Now all she had to do was foll
ow through and give him an heir.

  Behind the Queen followed a gaggle of ladies-in-waiting, dressed in more sedate colors than their Queen. One by one, seven of them entered the hall, heads down, only the soft swoosh of their skirts against the marble floors signifying their presence. The headdress worn by the lead lady was adorned with pearls, evidence of her family’s wealth.

  Then came his target, her head also down. She walked in last, but even though she was the last of the maids and lowest in rank, she had more status than most of the women here. Her hair was covered by a plain bonnet, her dress hugging her upper body down to her small waist then accentuated out from her hips and reaching down to the floor.

  So this was Kathrine. Such a meek little thing, it shouldn’t be too hard. Yet he found it hard to believe this timid female possessed Seer gifts. He would need to confirm it before he did anything, which meant it was time for him to be charming, or as Ze put it, don’t be an asshole.

  The rules, of course, meant he couldn’t just walk up to her and introduce himself. It would be a huge faux pas and could get him removed from the event, hell, not just the event, but court itself for the rest of his days. He slipped through the crowd as each lord and lady, duke and duchess, moved to grovel before the most powerful man in England.

  The ladies, in all their finery, flitted about like magical butterflies, chattering quietly among themselves as the men talked about more ‘important’ things. Those things usually encompassed horses, drinking, and cards. Hell, if half these humans knew women were indeed the most powerful sex, they would all fall on their swords.

  Mammon scanned the crowd. He was looking for one particular person. Reynold Ashburn—an up and comer they called him. He was good with money, a bachelor from a good family, but unfortunately, a serious drunkard, and the worst part was he was a second son. It meant he had no title unless his elder brother kicked it or he managed to land himself an heiress. But he knew people here, and the Sin of Greed picked his friends for a reason. Kathrine was a relation of Ashburn’s, and Reynold was the perfect introduction he needed. He spotted the man, already well into his cups, chatting loudly with some duke. Mammon walked right past him without saying a word.

  “Matthew! Hey!” Pausing, Mammon turned around, feigning surprise.

  “Ray, didn’t see you there, old boy! Do forgive me.” British accent and all, Mammon blended into the scene like he had been born here and not in the depths of Hades.

  “Matthew Garrett, as I live and breathe, where have you been hiding? Not convalescing in the country, I hope?” Reynold Ashburn was the quintessential British second son. He spent too much time gambling and with the ladies, and not enough time finding a wife. He was impeccably dressed in bright green and blues, his doublet and hose matching. His brown eyes were slightly glazed from too much wine, and his dark, muddy brown hair was hidden mostly under his stupid cap.

  Mammon shook his head. They all looked so damn ridiculous. Pulling his façade back into place, he slapped the man on the back. “I wouldn’t dream of it. No one refuses His Majesty when he announces his new Queen publicly. You think I want to lose my head?”

  “Ha, you always get to the point of it, don’t you my friend? Hey, there is a game of cards starting later, if you are interested. I could always do with more of your money.” The man was a gambler, but for now, at least, he was a damned good one.

  “I don’t think so, Ray. My pockets are still burning from the last thrashing you gave me. Here’s a thought, though. Make it up to me?” Mammon locked his green eyes on the human. He was by no means a mind controller, but he could nudge a person in the right direction.

  “Sure. How can I do that?” The man blinked and smiled, totally unaware of the mental push.

  “Who is the young filly right there? New lady’s maid dressed in the red?” Reynold looked over and laughed.

  “Oh, that’s Kathrine Abell. Sweet young thing, isn’t she? Cousin to my uncle’s second wife, or something like that. Why? You on the hunt for a bride finally?”

  “Perhaps. You know me, always moving around. So, do me a favor?” Another little nudge in the right direction. The human blinked smiled with a nod.

  “Of course! Come along. I think I met her once at one of Father’s parties. Very shy. Try not to be a cad, would you?”

  “Me, a cad? You wound me sir!” The human just laughed and led Mammon across the room.

  The ladies were talking quietly among themselves, little Kathrine, still new, standing off to the side. She hadn’t been fully accepted yet and would have to wait. Mammon knew all about court etiquette.

  “Cousin!” Reynold made a show of bowing to the lady and taking her hand in his. He kissed the top gently and released her. “I must say, court agrees with you. Last time we met, you had your head in a book, I believe.”

  He watched Kathrine lift her head, her eyes on Reynold, but it lasted only a second before they locked and stayed on Mammon. He felt as if he had just been struck by lightning from Zeus. Her eyes were the brightest violet color he had ever seen. They shimmered with intelligence and no small amount of power. The droning voice of Reynold was forgotten as he stepped forward and took her hand. She tensed as he lifted it to his lips.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Abell.” Mammon raised his eyes to hers again, and she sucked in a soft breath.

  “There now, introductions have been made. I have a game to win. Remember Matthew, she is family. Don’t be a rake. Cousin.” Reynold bowed to her once more and vanished into the crowd. The hardest part had been done. Least that’s what he had thought would be the hardest part. Mammon hadn’t expected her to be—well, so alluring. He had the distinct feeling he was in trouble.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Kathrine couldn’t take her eyes from him. He was handsome, beyond so. He didn’t wear a cap like most of the men in the room, and his thick, dark hair shone in the candle light. But it was his eyes they mesmerized her. So green and bright, they looked like the emeralds her stepmother liked to wear.

  What was she supposed to say? Official introductions had been made. Was she supposed to speak to him or add him to her dance card? What now? All those years her mother had protected her from having to come to court, then she had died, leaving her with her father, and of course he remarried. Her stepmother, however, was very proper and wanted better standing. What better way than offering her husband’s only child to the Queen as a new lady’s maid. That was how good, well-bred girls found husbands, apparently.

  “You are too kind, Sir. It is an honor to meet you.” She gave a slight curtsy, hoping he would take the lead. She was totally lost. So many people, so much color. Everything was too much for her brain.

  Her mind rebelled against the raging, pulsing emotions of those around her. Kathrine could tell just by a glance who in the room claimed dominance over others. She could see the colors flaring around each individual—her mother had referred to it as an “aura”. Each person’s aura was slightly different, all of them swirling around the room in a sickening daze. But the worst part was the voices. If she didn’t keep her mental barriers up, she could hear all their nasty little sniping thoughts about one another, despite the smiles and happy facade they plastered on their faces.

  She had spent years learning to control her unique talents, only to be packed off to court, a place where her barriers were nowhere near strong enough to hold back the energy of the crowds. At times like this she missed her mother’s calming influence, her rock-solid belief that Kathrine was special, she was chosen. Right now she didn’t feel chosen. She felt exposed and in danger.

  “Miss Abell, are you quite well? You look a little pale. Perhaps some air would do to help?” The man still stood before her, clearly expecting something more. That was how this worked. You got introduced, found out if he had money, and then let him make an offer for your hand. That was if you weren’t half crazy or anything. Even then, if you had the name and the money, any man would marry the crazy one.

  “
Yes, some air would be wonderful, Sir Garret.” He offered his arm. Timidly she slid her gloved hand into the crook, and he led her slowly across the large ball room, through the mass of people, and toward the huge gilded glass doors.

  “Just Mister. I am not quite as fortunate as some of the gentlemen here, I’m afraid.” His voice was calming, soothing the frayed edges of her mind against the inner cacophony generated by the people around her. She found she enjoyed his company, even if they had only just met.

  He stepped forward and opened the door for her, allowing her access onto the large stone balcony. Other couples were already present, chatting in the soft, cool air of spring. Kathrine was expected to find a wealthy husband, get married, and give him sons as quickly as she could. If her stepmother had anything to say about it, she would be betrothed to Lord Argill before the night was out. The old man looked like he was about to pass out or fall asleep half the time. Distracted by her inner thoughts, she didn’t hear Mr. Garret talking until he touched her arm.

  “Oh, do forgive me. I was gathering butterflies. Please, what were you saying, Mr. Garrett?”

  His soft chuckle told her he took no offense as he led her to a stone bench, not releasing her hand until she was seated. He moved to sit beside her, stretching his long legs, his whole body relaxed. She didn’t think it was possible for him to look any more handsome than he did now, his eyes almost glowing in the darkness.

  “I have to ask, Mr. Garrett. With so many Ladies in court tonight, why speak to me?” Oh dear, too bold. She had been warned about the bold thing. She was supposed to keep her mouth shut and just let the men do the talking.

  “You seemed like the most interesting person in the room, Miss Abell. I can’t be doing with these frivolous females who look for nothing but power and a title. Besides, Reynold told me you liked to read. I happen to like a woman with a true head on her shoulders, if I might be so bold.”