Charming Devils: A Bully/Revenge Reverse Harem Romance

by Katie May

  “Yeah.” I swallow heavily, unsure how to comfort my friend. “I heard. And I’m sorry. I know you broke up with Karsyn because of me—”

  “It’s fine,” she cuts me off, hands tightening around the steering wheel. “I don’t want to talk about Karsyn or my breakup or anything. We talked. I confronted him. We’re over.”

  My heart is suddenly racing, racing, racing—thumping and dancing to a tune only it can hear. Perspiration beads on my forehead as I turn towards her desperately, wildly, like a caged bull set free for the first time.

  “Mariabella, I’m so sorry. I never asked for you to do this, and I don’t want you to resent me.” Because if I lose her, my only female friend, I will fucking die.

  She reaches across the center console and places her hand over mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  “It’s okay, Peony. Really. I promise you I’m not mad.” She releases me to focus on driving once more, expression unreadable. “It was a long time coming.”

  Awkward silence ensues, and I hate it. Fucking loathe it. She has quickly become one of my closest friends, and I hate the tension I can feel thrumming between us like an E1 of the bass.

  “So…” I say, attempting to defuse whatever this is.

  Mariabella taps her fingers against the rubber of the steering wheel as if she, too, is thinking of something to say.

  “So you heard how important this game is, right?” she queries, finally breaking the silence that has grown so uncomfortable, I’m starting to feel nauseous. I take the olive branch she extends and grasp it firmly.

  “How so?”

  “College scouts.” She turns the car into the school parking lot but doesn’t immediately exit the vehicle. “Karsyn hasn’t been able to shut up about it. Apparently, State is going to be there.”

  “State?” I make a face. “Is that his dream school or something?” I already know the answer to that question. Last month alone, he was on their website over one hundred times. To say he’s obsessed is an understatement.

  “He literally has a shrine to it in his bedroom,” Mariabella says with a snort, and my heart jumps at the thought of Mariabella…alone…in Karsyn’s bedroom. “His dad went there. It’s literally his dream.”

  “Oh it literally is, is it?” I tease her, and she rolls her eyes, elbowing my stomach, but she can’t quite hide the grin on her face. I call that a win.

  “Come on.” She reaches behind us and grabs her cheerleading backpack. I grab mine as well, and together, the two of us begin the trek towards the stadium.

  But I’m not thinking about the movements for the cheers or if I’ll actually be allowed to perform with the team this time.

  I’m planning Karsyn’s downfall, once and for all.

  Like the last game, fans already line the bleachers, despite our early arrival. We go through the warmups with Helen, right up until the buzzer sounds, indicating the start of the game.

  “Are you sure you can cheer today?” Helen asks nervously, eyeing me as if she expects me to topple over at any moment. I flash her a saccharine sweet grin, one that gives me a toothache, and her body relaxes incrementally as she nods sharply. “All right, if you’re sure.”

  As the game begins and Mariabella leads us through cheer after cheer, I scan the crowd for any of the Devils. Lucas is once more in the stands, but this time, an entourage of girls doesn’t hang from his arms, listening to every word he says like he’s some ungodly king. I don’t see Elias, and for reasons I don’t wish to look into, that sends red-hot pain straight to my heart, as if someone doused my veins with gasoline and then lit a match.

  I continue my search, only my eyes moving as the rest of me performs the choreographed cheer to perfection, but I don’t spot Cassian either. I wonder if it’s because he finally figured out what I did. I’m beginning to believe that I don’t even know the first thing about Cassian’s hatred. Because when he comes for me, and I have no doubt that he will, his revenge will be swift and brutal, a sword piercing flesh. He’s not like Lucas in that regard, able to meticulously plan out every fucking detail of someone’s demise.

  His cruelty stems from his own insecurities. When he lashes out, he does so in a manner that makes me think that he secretly wishes he was the victim. He’s passionate, hotter than fire, but that only makes him more dangerous.

  And then finally, my eyes latch on to a group of older, distinguished men sitting near the top of the bleachers, jotting notes into spiral-bound notebooks. My lips twitch when I see the peppered-hair man wearing a State sweatshirt.

  The first half of the game runs smoothly, and by the time halftime rolls around, we’re ahead by ten points. It’s only then that I drop my red and black pompoms and hurry towards where Helen sits with her back against the railing.

  “Yes?” She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Are you feeling okay, Peony? Did you overexert yourself? I knew I shouldn’t have let you cheer after the accident last game.”

  “Actually, I was hoping I could use the bathroom,” I confess, adopting a petulant expression. “I’m not feeling the greatest, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, of course.” She gestures towards the bathrooms, just outside the gate that separates the public from the field. I nod once and then break into a run, stopping once to swoop up my backpack.

  At Mariabella’s confused—and slightly worried—look, I mouth “period,” and she nods with understanding.

  I move briskly down the track running adjacent to the field, opening up the gate and slipping out. The bathrooms are located directly beside the concession stand, with a dark sliver of space between them. It’s there I go, glancing in both directions to ensure that no one sees me.

  Fortunately, the crowd is too captivated by the game to pay me any mind.

  And I’m too much of a nobody to ever capture anyone’s attention.

  I drop my backpack to the ground and fall to my knees, digging through my clothing and shoes until I grab the voodoo doll with a blond strand of hair wrapped around its throat like a noose.

  And this time, I’m going to see Karsyn fucking hanged for what he did to me.

  As I creep to the opening, I can’t help but note how badly my hand trembles. I mentally curse myself and run through a list of all the horrible things Karsyn and his friends did to me. It’s hard to think that I’m in the wrong after what I endured at their hands.

  But at the same time…

  How does this make me any better?

  I shake those thoughts away, brutally sweeping them beneath the metaphorical rug in my mind, and focus on the game. From this angle, I can see the field, but the shadows make it so no one can see me.

  Perfect.

  I murmur a soft incantation, activating the doll, and then hold it at the ready.

  On the field, Karsyn claps his hands together, breaking from the huddle with his other teammates. I can’t help but admire his muscular build, clearly defined in the football uniform. Even with his head covered by the helmet, I’d recognize him anywhere. Heat prickles my spine, shooting scorching flames to my core.

  I suddenly have a very, very vivid image of him wearing that uniform while I wear my cheerleading one…

  His cock sliding through my slick folds as he pulls my skirt up over my ass, his hands cupping my breasts as he bends me over a locker room bench…

  Dammit, Peony! What has gotten into you?

  In my agitation, my grip on the doll tightens, and I watch in both horror and fascination as on the field, Karsyn jerks slightly.

  “This is just the beginning, Alder,” I whisper darkly as the center snaps the ball to him. Karsyn watches the field intently, backing up a few steps, and pulls back his arm to throw…

  Only to spike the ball into the ground instead.

  I release a giggle as the ref blows his whistle, declaring intentional grounding and giving the guys a penalty.

  The next time, Karsyn tries to run with the ball, but I make it so his feet can’t move. That they’re cemented to the
ground. He stands there looking like an imbecile until the other team tackles him.

  “Ouch!” I wince in faux sympathy. “That’s gotta hurt.”

  For the next half hour, I make him throw the ball to the other team, run in the wrong direction, and trip over his own two feet more times than I can count. I don’t want him to get physically hurt though, so I make sure that he moves out of bounds before he can be tackled.

  Eventually, the coach pulls Karsyn from the game and replaces him with Emmett, of all people, and I watch as the Devil wrenches his helmet off and throws it, muscles bunching with anger.

  Realizing I’ve been gone long enough to cause concern, I quickly drop to my knees and shove the doll back into my backpack. I’ve only just begun to zip it up when I hear slow clapping from directly behind me.

  My body tenses like it’s been struck by lightning, and I lift only my head slightly, the barest tilt of my chin, to meet the icy blue gaze I can feel drilling a hole in the side of my head.

  Lucas smiles sharply, a smile that looks more like a shark thirsting for blood than that of a human.

  “Well, well, well. What do we have here, little witch?”

  Chapter 30

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I respond tersely, shrugging my backpack over my shoulder and attempting to shove past him. But since he blocks the only entrance in and out and he’s stacked with muscle, all I do is bounce off his chest.

  Scowling, I back away and cross my arms.

  The shadows cause Lucas to look like death personified, coming to reap my soul and condemn me to eternal damnation. Just enough light graces this area to enable me to see his icy eyes travel from my toes up to my forehead, lingering briefly on my chest. Then, they travel to the backpack on my shoulder and narrow almost imperceptibly.

  “I saw what you did.” His words freeze my insides. My stomach clenches, threatening to expel the meager contents of my lunch, and I instinctively stagger back a step.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Instead of answering, he merely reaches into his pocket, and I brace myself for…for what? For him to pull out a gun? A knife? When he pulls out his phone, I practically sag against the brick wall in relief before quickly regaining my senses.

  Is he going to call the police?

  And tell them what? That I was performing witchcraft at a football game? I actually want to smile at the thought. I wouldn’t be the one carted away and locked in a cell.

  Lucas turns the phone in my direction, just as a video starts to play on the screen.

  “Are we watching your porn collection?” I snap, attempting to cover up my jitteriness with sarcasm. Lucas doesn’t bother to dignify my quip with a response. He merely hands me the phone, presses play, and backs away, expression grim.

  The video is of…me. From only a few minutes ago. I watch in horror as I jerk the doll’s arm, and on the field, Karsyn’s arm jerks as well. My heart is thumping erratically in my chest, seconds from breaking out of my rib cage like the monster from Alien. I know, logically, that there’s not a whole lot Lucas can do with this video. No one will believe him. They’ll merely think it’s a prank we pulled or the video was doctored. But if a Blood or a witch hunter stumbled upon this…

  Hands shaking, I press the garbage can in the upper corner of the screen. And then, to ensure that the video is gone completely, I go to albums and click on recently deleted, getting rid of it once more.

  “That won’t help.” Lucas’s voice fills me with a sort of insidious fear that slithers through my mind and grasps my heart. It conjures up images of acid eroding rock. Of frosted swords and glinting scythes. “I emailed myself the video.”

  “What the fuck do you want, Lucas?” I ask as he steps forward and removes his phone from my frozen fingers. Warmth migrates from where our hands touch, settling in my chest and lighting it on fire.

  “A conversation,” he answers lightly, just as the crowd breaks into raucous cheering. On the field, Emmett is chest-bumped by some of his classmates for a play he just performed. Karsyn’s scowling from the sidelines, standing slightly apart from the rest of his teammates.

  “When and where?” My voice trembles slightly, and his eyes sharpen at the sound.

  “Erica’s Diner. Right after the game.” He leans closer until his presence overwhelms me, until I’m aware of nothing and no one but him, until he shrivels my lungs, making it so what little air they held, fled. Lucas fucking Scott.

  He squeezes his eyes shut and runs his nose up the side of my cheek, inhaling deeply. I tense automatically, while simultaneously, butterflies take flight in my stomach. I make sure to spray poison on those incessant fuckers until they die.

  “I’ll be waiting,” he purrs.

  And then, like a sentient being of the night coming to steal my soul, he’s gone.

  I can’t focus the rest of the game.

  Not Mariabella’s inquisitive look at my extended absence. Not Helen’s worried hovering. Not even Emmett’s wide grin as he races over to me at the end of the game.

  I have a feeling I’m walking to my execution, but I’ve run out of options. And for some reason, I think death by Lucas’s hand is the best way to go.

  Mariabella doesn’t question me when I ask her to drop me off at Erica’s Diner, explaining that I have plans to meet Nana. Instead, she waves cheerfully, her earlier depressive fog nowhere to be seen, and promises to call me tomorrow.

  My heart thrashes as I step inside the diner, checking the booths until I see Lucas’s sleek red hair.

  “This isn’t the type of place I thought you would like,” I say in lieu of greeting as I slide in opposite him. Surprisingly, he has a burger and fries already in front of him, along with a chocolate shake. It’s not something I would’ve ever pictured the great Lucas Scott eating. He always seems so…refined, as if finger foods are beneath him.

  “Do you still like chicken fingers and strawberry shakes?” he questions as soon as I’m fully seated. I raise my eyebrows at him inquiringly.

  “Yes?” It comes out as a question. “How did you know?” I can’t keep the incredulity out of my voice.

  Like before, he doesn’t immediately answer. He simply leans forward and places his wickedly luscious lips around the straw of his shake. My eyes are drawn to his throat as he swallows before I force myself to look away.

  He pulls back, his slashing eyebrows drawn low over his sea-blue eyes. “I love this place,” he confesses, surprising me with the sheer randomness of his statement. “It’s a hidden gem. Not enough people eat here.”

  I glance around at the ragtag diner. All of the booths are a hideous shade of bright red, while the floor is a checkered pattern of black and white tiles. There’s a long counter near the kitchen with over a dozen red stools, only a few of them currently occupied. The waitresses themselves wear ugly blue dresses and white aprons.

  “But I take it you didn’t bring me here just to try their shakes,” I muse, but before Lucas can respond, a waitress arrives at our table carrying a plate of chicken tenders with French fries and a strawberry shake. It’s exactly what I would’ve ordered if I had done it myself.

  And I hate it.

  Hate him.

  “I think this is the first time Luke over there ever brought a girl with him!” the waitress gushes. “You must be special.”

  A petty part of me wants to complain and send the food back, but it’s not the staff’s fault that Lucas is a prick. A prick who happens to know my fucking food order.

  Smiling cordially, I put a French fry in my mouth and bite down.

  “Oh, I’m special all right,” I say, swallowing. “And Lucas is only just beginning to realize how much.”

  The waitress titters before walking away to check on one of her other tables. And then it’s just Lucas and me.

  His long, elegant fingers pick at his fries as he brings them to his mouth, one after the other.

  “You wanted to talk, so talk,” I huff, leaning back in the vinyl b
ooth and crossing my ankles. Lucas eyes my plate, red brows furrowing.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “Lucas…” I warn, but he doesn’t respond right away as he grabs his burger and takes a huge bite. Juices drizzle down his chin, and it’s such a shock on the normally immaculate Lucas that I can’t help but stare. The twisted, kinky bitch inside of me imagines leaning across the table and licking his chin and lips, but I shut that shit down real fast.

  “I know what I saw,” he says at last, setting his burger down as if it’s suddenly unappetizing. “And don’t even bother trying to deny it, Peony Simone. I’m not an idiot.” He sniffs, sitting up straighter in his seat.

  And that’s the exact problem.

  He’s not an idiot—he never has been. His warped mind sees and understands more than the average person. Maybe that’s how he rose to power in this school—blatant manipulation. He sees what the heart desires and either offers it to them for a price or he keeps it for himself, all the while cackling gleefully.

  That’s what makes him the most dangerous of all the Devils.

  “I can see it in your eyes,” he begins, chuckling ruefully. “You’re going to deny it, aren’t you?”

  I glare defiantly. “No, I’m not going to.” I have the immense pleasure of seeing disbelief splay across his features before he reins in his shock. “Give me your phone.”

  He quirks a brow but doesn’t ask questions as he slides it across the table. I quickly turn it off and shove it in my pocket. The last thing I need is him recording this conversation.

  Then again, it’s not like anyone will believe him.

  Only the worst of the worst will—the devils to my Devils.

  “What are you?” Lucas asks abruptly, and I jerk my head back as if I’ve been slapped.

  “A female. Thank you for noticing,” I quip as I shove a chicken tender into my mouth, chewing quickly.

  “What you did with that doll…” He scratches absently at his chin. “It almost looked like…”

  “Voodoo,” I supply at last, searching his face for any outward reaction. Instead of terrified or angry or even disbelieving, Lucas almost looks…curious.