Charming Devils: A Bully/Revenge Reverse Harem Romance

by Katie May

  And I can’t decide if that bodes good or bad things for me.

  “Voodoo,” he repeats slowly as he takes another long sip of his shake. “Are you a…voodoo priestess?”

  I can’t help it. Immediately, I break into obnoxious laughter, throwing my head back until my hair brushes the top of the booth.

  “No,” I say when I finally wrangle my laughter back under control. “No, I’m not that.”

  “Then what are you?” He places his elbows on the table and leans forward eagerly, eyes alight with the prospect of discovering new knowledge. Of something unexplainable. He’s always been a curious boy, desperate to uncover anything and everything this world has to offer. It’s unnerving to be the sole focus of his gaze. It feels as if he has placed me on a petri dish and is now studying me beneath a microscope. No matter what I do, I can’t hide from him.

  “I’m a witch,” I admit candidly, spreading my arms wide. “A full-blooded, satanic-worshiping witch. We sacrifice pigeons and everything.”

  His eyes practically bug out of his head, and he begins to choke on his shake. To see Lucas do something as mundane and normal as choke reminds me that despite his apathetic exterior, he’s still human. He’s not truly the robot I was beginning to believe he was.

  “Really?” he gasps, and I laugh lightly.

  “No. I mean, yes, I’m a witch, but we’re a variety of religions. And we don’t partake in blood sacrifices.” The latter statement is said almost coldly, as the picture of that missing—presumed to be dead—girl comes to the forefront of my mind. And then I picture Christian, Polo, and Gabriel surrounding her, black hoods pulled over their faces as they chanted in harsh Latin, their voices clipped and their words deadly.

  “You’re a…” Lucas stares at me for a long moment without blinking before nodding once, as if this is something he has always suspected. He daintily chews on a French fry, those damn eyes of his never leaving my face.

  “Did you know that red hair and blue eyes are the rarest combination in the world?” I blurt like a lunatic when he doesn’t stop fucking staring. Finally, he blinks at me, and my breath leaves my body in a swooshing exhale.

  “Are they now?” He taps his fingers on the table, only his neck craning to the side to sip his shake. I don’t think he lifted it once since I sat down. Not Lucas. It’s beneath him to hold his own drink.

  “It is.” I nod empathetically, but I’m mercifully saved from talking more when the waitress returns.

  “How’s everything tasting?” she queries, cocking her hip to the side. She glances at my full shake and then Lucas’s nearly empty one. “Another shake, hon?”

  “Yes, please,” Lucas answers, and the smile he throws her is capable of moving the clouds in the sky. I swear the heavens open up right then and there, all in an attempt to feast their eyes upon this stunning man. He looks so incredibly sure of himself and powerful, that another flare of heat explodes inside of me. I doubt Lucas would even bow to Satan if he rose at this exact moment, attempting to take control of the world. Instead, I believe Satan would cower in front of him. In front of this gorgeous man with the elegant, aristocratic face and a smile capable of making angels weep.

  It takes me a long moment to realize I’m staring blankly at Lucas. And it takes me a minute more to realize he’s staring back just as intently.

  Those damn eyes of his crawl over my skin, and while they normally feel like thousands of fire ants, today they remind me of a lover’s finger lightly caressing my bare flesh.

  “So you’re a witch,” Lucas clarifies.

  “Yes.” I finally take a sip of my strawberry shake, nearly groaning at the explosion of flavors. “But I think you already knew that.”

  “Suspected,” he says, voice completely monotone.

  “How?” I didn’t have my magic in middle school, so there’s no way in hell that I gave myself away. And I can’t remember a time when I talked about my powers with anyone outside of my coven.

  “Do you remember when we played hide and seek?” He folds his hands primly on the table, nudging his now empty plate to the side.

  “Do you mean when you and your asshole friends would chase after and terrorize me?” I ask, and his eye twitches.

  “In a manner of speaking…”

  “Which time are you referring to?” I cut in.

  “That college fraternity member.” A bitter sort of darkness slides across Lucas’s face as his eyes harden. “The one who held your hand.”

  “When he made your pants fall down?” I can’t help but chuckle darkly at the memory. “It’s kind of funny. Most boys would try to think logically. They would assume that their pants were loose or something…not automatically think that magic was involved.”

  Lucas appears genuinely affronted. “So all four of our pants were loose at the exact same time? No, I suspected something was different about you right then and there. I imagine your Prince Charming was behind that incident?” He spits out the nickname as if it’s vile-tasting, coating his tongue in a sickly poison.

  “He was,” I agree with a nod. And then, “I really did plan to thank him with sex when I turned eighteen. Oh well. Maybe next week.”

  A vein in Lucas’s forehead bulges.

  “I always knew there was something different about you, Peony,” he says softly. “Something…special.”

  “So you only suspected I was a witch then and there?” I ask for clarification, and when he nods, I continue, “Then why did you guys always call me little witch?”

  Obviously, I didn’t think they knew my secret, but I could never figure out the nickname. Was it meant to be demeaning? Hurtful? Annoying?

  “Because, my little witch, you enchanted all of us,” he confesses in that same impassive voice.

  “Okay, fine. Don’t tell me the truth,” I say around my chuckle.

  Lucas blinks.

  “Sometimes the truth is directly in front of you, but you choose not to look at it. And when you look at it, you don’t acknowledge it,” Lucas supplies cryptically.

  I can’t help but snort. “That’s deep. Did you get that from a fortune cookie?”

  “Snapple cap,” he deadpans. The joke is so unexpected coming from him, that I can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes. “But seriously, what can you do? Is this apparent ‘magic’ inside of you? Do you feast off of the energy of others?”

  He reminds me of a third grader attempting to learn everything he can. I half expect him to begin waving his hand in the air as he asks questions.

  “We have a natural magical reserve inside all of us,” I confess, and it occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve ever told a norm about my abilities. I always thought that if I told someone, it would be a lover. Not a fucking Devil. Even a week ago, I would’ve laughed my ass off at the concept. But now here I am. Isn’t life funny like that? “The natural reserve is what allows us to do this.”

  I glance in both directions, ensuring no one is paying us any mind, before reaching forward and pretending to grab Lucas’s hand like some romantic, sappy couple. Instead, I use his palm as cover to hide the fact that my hand is now in flames. As quickly as they appear, I extinguish them, allowing the power to flow back into my stomach.

  The only indication that Lucas is shocked by my display is the nearly imperceptible widening of his eyes. Other than that, he remains as cool as always, his poker face firmly intact.

  “So you can use fire,” he breathes.

  “All of the elements, actually. When your pants fell down, he was using air.” I move to take another sip of my shake. “We can do this type of magic naturally with training. But other magic? Harder spells? They require ingredients and spell chanting.”

  “Like in the books,” Lucas replies, and I purse my lips to keep from smiling.

  “Most people would compare me to the witches in the movies,” I point out. “Like the three sister witches from that one Halloween mov—”

  “I don’t waste my time with trivial things such
as television and movies,” he says with a sneer, and this time, I can’t hold my laughter in. It escapes completely unbidden, and his eyes narrow at the sound.

  “One day, Lucas Scott, I will force you to watch Hocus Pocus with me, you mark my words.” It’s only when the words leave my mouth do I realize how they sound, how they could be construed. It almost sounds as if I’m—gag—flirting with Lucas. Asking him on a goddamn date.

  I would rather stab my own eye out than ever willingly be alone with him.

  The corner of his lips curls upwards a millimeter, but he doesn’t comment, choosing instead to resume his relentless questioning.

  “Does your magic replenish naturally? Or do you need to do something to fill the reserves?” he fires off.

  “Enough about me,” I huff. “Why can’t we talk about you?”

  “Me?” His red brows furrow ever so slightly. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything,” I blurt automatically, my cheeks heating at my confession. He doesn’t need to know how fucking obsessed I am with him and his ex-best friends. His frosty eyes search my face, but I don’t have the faintest idea of what he’s looking for. After a moment, he nods his head and removes a quarter from his pocket.

  “How about a wager?” he queries seriously. “Tails, I get to ask you a question. Heads, you can ask me one.”

  I bite my lip, wondering if he has something up his sleeve that I don’t know about, but I can’t see what he has to gain by lying to me. If it’s a wager he wants, it’s a wager he’ll get.

  “Fine. Deal.” I cross my arms over my chest as he flips the coin, both of us watching it sail through the air until it lands on the back of his hand, his other palm covering it. He flips it over for me to see the back end. A slow, beguiling smirk dances on his lips.

  “Now, I would like to go back to my original question,” he says. “Your magic. How do you refill your magical reserves, or does it replenish automatically?”

  “My coven does rituals on certain holidays,” I confess. “On Halloween, we plan to do another one. We take the magic that all of our deceased ancestors have put into the earth and distribute it between us all.” Normally, it’s a big event with grand parties, weddings, and parades. A part of me wishes I could be with my coven during the celebration, but I shove those thoughts aside.

  “Coven…” Lucas tilts his head to the side, and I can’t help but notice that not a single hair falls out of place on his head. “What is that exactly?”

  “Nope,” I draw out. “Coin.” His lips twitch, but he complies without complaint. Primal satisfaction oozes in my stomach when it lands on heads this time. “My turn,” I singsong, tapping my lip with a fry. “How did you discover this place? No offense, Lucas, but this doesn’t seem like your usual five-star restaurant.”

  He drops his gaze to his empty shake, absently plucking at the straw. “As you might have guessed, my parents were not often involved in my day-to-day affairs as a child.” A pensive expression crosses his features before he contains it, swiftly sweeping it beneath the proverbial rug. I don’t know why that bothers me as much as it does. I can’t fathom why I would ever want Lucas to be open and honest with me emotionally. Wouldn’t it just make my revenge scheme that much harder? “They often sent me away to a nanny.”

  “You had a nanny?” I don’t know why I’m even surprised. Isn’t that something all rich people have? Nannies? Or is that only in the movies?

  “I did,” he admits with a soft smile. “Martha.”

  “Martha,” I snort. “What a stereotypical nanny name.”

  His grin widens, but otherwise, he ignores my comment. “A lot of times, we would go to her house. She had two kids of her own, both of which already graduated high school, but she kept all of their toys from when they were younger. It’s actually a few blocks away from here.” He stares out the window, almost as if he can see past the brick buildings and dirty windows to his old nanny’s house. “She would take me to eat here once a week. I still remember the first time she brought me. I tried to cut my hamburger with a fork and knife, but she clicked her tongue and instructed me to use my hands like a real boy, not a stuck-up, pompous prick.”

  “She sounds fun,” I observe, watching as his face lights up at the mention of her. It’s apparent that he treasures this woman immensely, and my heart flutters dangerously. I like seeing him happy…and that realization scares the shit out of me. “What happened to her?”

  Lucas wags his finger in front of my face disapprovingly. “Nope. The coin.” He once more throws it into the air, smirking when it lands on tails.

  “Now, what is a coven?” he questions eagerly.

  “It’s like…” I bite on my lip, thinking of the best way to describe it. “It’s like a magical family. A community. Some are smaller, maybe about one hundred members, but others, like the one I left behind in California, encompass an entire town.”

  “Did you switch covens when you moved from Michigan to California five years ago?” he questions, always quick on the uptake.

  “I did.” I stare down at one of my golden fries. “Mom got offered the position as leader at the California one.”

  “So she just left? What about coven loyalty?” Lucas asks, sounding aghast, and I can’t help but smile.

  “I thought the same thing,” I admit with a shrug. But the last thing I’m going to do is talk to Lucas about my mommy issues. “You know…I’m surprised you’re taking this so well. I mean, I half expect you to break into laughter and say that you always knew I was insane. Maybe there are even doctors standing nearby.”

  There aren’t. I checked.

  “Now, I just answered three questions,” I point out with forced lightness. “It’s only fair if you answer one of mine.”

  “Very well.” He dabs daintily at his lips with his napkin before setting it back in his lap. I can tell he’s nervous by his fidgeting hands, though his face remains expressionless. “You want to know about my nanny, correct?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond, forging on ahead like a semi-truck approaching a brick wall at one hundred miles per hour. “Nothing tragic happened, if that’s what you’re thinking. She didn’t die or anything. It’s quite simple. One night, I got scared of the dark and cried for Martha to protect me. Mother got jealous and fired my nanny immediately, instructing her to never contact me again or risk criminal charges. I knew Martha cared for me, but I was also well aware that I wasn’t her biological son. She had two other children to think about, and Mom offered to write them glowing recommendations to the college of their choice. Obviously, most colleges would be thrilled to have students recommended by Heidi Scott, queen of the perfume industry.” His tone turns bitter, scathing, and my heart breaks for him before I remember to harden it.

  “Thank you for telling me.” I take another sip of my shake to give my mouth something to do. “I know it couldn’t be easy.”

  He laughs, the sound low and chilling. “You told me you were a goddamn witch. The least I could do was share a little bit about my pathetic excuse for a childhood.”

  Lucas once more taps his fingers against the table. It’s something I never noticed before, but is now blatantly obvious—it’s his tell, the only indication that he’s worried or anxious or fearful or anything besides an emotionless robot. Someone must’ve updated his programming while I was away.

  “To be completely honest, I’m surprised you’re telling me any of this,” he continues slowly. Only his eyes twitch to survey my expression, but I take a page out of his playbook and keep my features neutral. I swear I see his lips begin to form into the beginnings of a smile, but it must be a trick of the light. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that he doesn’t know how to use his facial muscles. Except for that one smile… “There’s a lot I can do with this information.”

  I laugh bitterly. “What are you going to do? Tell someone? No one will believe you.”

  This time, I’m definitely not mistaken. There’s a very clear upwards tilt to his lips. “Maybe
I plan to hunt you down for myself.”

  His words make my body grow cold, as if I was plunged headfirst in the Arctic Ocean. My hands shake, dropping the French fry my fingers were brutalizing. Immediately, that minuscule smile on his face fades, replaced by an intensity that threatens to steal my breath and stop my heart like a lethal injection.

  “Don’t joke.” I search his gaze somewhat desperately, only relaxing marginally when a myriad of emotions flit across his face faster than the wings on a hummingbird. Confusion. Shock. And then anger.

  “There are people who hunt witches, aren’t there?” he questions.

  I nod once. “There are normal witch hunters—humans who see us as monsters. They seem to think that the monsters you see in movies…I mean, read in literature are real. But they aren’t. Not really. They’re all variations of witches. Some witches are extremely powerful and can take the form of animals, hence the superstition of werewolves and shapeshifters. Some witches are even gifted familiars, though I don’t know anyone who’s had one in centuries. And finally, there are Bloods.”

  “Bloods?”

  I swallow. “They’re witches who have been tainted by blood magic. Dark magic. It usually involves the sacrifice of humans…and in most recent cases, witches. It gives the witches performing the ritual immortality, but in return…”

  “They have to live off blood,” Lucas finishes. “Like vampires.”

  I tremble slightly as terror unfurls in my stomach. “No one will believe you if you tell them the truth, but—”

  “The people who might hurt you will believe me,” Lucas finishes with a contemplative expression.

  “Lucas, I’m being serious.”

  “As am I.” His face is graver than I ever remember it being. Even more so than when I threw fruit punch on his shirt in seventh grade. “No harm will come to you, Peony Simone.” This time, there’s no mistaking the malevolent grin that contorts his features. It’s all sharp teeth and deadly intent—the smile of an apex predator. “I’ll kill anyone who even tries.”