Charming Devils: A Bully/Revenge Reverse Harem Romance

by Katie May

  “I’m not going to fucking let you,” he growls fiercely. “I didn’t know Gabriel at all, but he’s now one of my favorite people in this entire goddamn world. You want to know why?” He tenderly brushes at my hair, placing the sweaty strands behind my ears. “Because he brought you back to me.”

  A myriad of emotions settles in my heart as I stare at this stunning man with the soulful blue eyes. How did I ever think them to be cold before? They’re hotter than an inferno, melting at the remaining ice surrounding my heart and setting me free.

  I bring both of my hands up to cup his face as he’s doing to mine.

  “How long was I out?” I whisper as he pulls me even closer to him.

  His eyes harden, but not with anger. With pain. “A few days,” he whispers dejectedly. “Your grandma and her boyfriends healed the majority of your injuries by sewing up the doll. At least, the ones you got from that fucker, Emmett.”

  “But not the ones I did to myself,” I muse, dropping my hands to my lap to stare at the savage, ugly scars on both of my arms. They’ll remain with me until the day I die, of that I’m certain.

  Lucas doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he brings my left wrist up to his mouth and plants a tender, albeit chaste, kiss on the thickest one. The one that I intended to end my life.

  “No. Not these scars,” he whispers, and his blue eyes ensnare my own, holding me hostage. The air around us seems to crackle with electricity. And I know without a shadow of a doubt, that everything has changed between us. I’ve always been unsure about Lucas, even when I began to fall for the other three Devils, but right here, in his arms, I feel a sense of contentment and safety. Of belonging. The emotions crash into me like a wrecking ball, stealing my breath away.

  It’s Lucas who breaks the moment, though, turning away from me to stare at the strains of moonlight entering through the window.

  “You should talk to your grandma,” he states abruptly, patting my thigh gently and indicating for me to get down. His rejection feels like a slap to the face, but I work to quickly mask my emotions. “She’s outside.”

  Any hurt feelings I might’ve had diminish at his words. “Outside? Now?”

  It can’t be later than one, maybe two, in the morning.

  As I begin to move towards the front door, Lucas’s voice stops me cold. “This conversation isn’t over, Peony.” It’s a warning and a vow. A promise for the future.

  And despite the lingering pain, despite my grief, I smile softly.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Lucas Scott.”

  ...

  I find my nana sitting on the porch swing, still dressed in the skirt and billowy blouse she wore to rescue me in. Her hair tumbles around her shoulders as she stares blankly out into the distance. I don’t know what she’s seeing, what she’s thinking about, but I can take an educated guess.

  If I lost any of the Devils…

  I can’t even imagine loving a man for years and then seeing him dead. I feel nauseous just thinking about it, as if someone has stuck their hand into my stomach and is now swirling around the contents.

  “Nana?” I prod gently when she doesn’t seem to notice my presence.

  No response.

  I take a step closer and pause, before gingerly perching on the swinging bench beside her. She still doesn’t glance over, but I know she’s aware of me when her hand reaches across the seat and grasps mine tightly.

  “I’m glad to see you’re doing better,” she whispers hoarsely. Her voice sounds raw and raspy from crying. I can’t see her features well in the cover of night, but I imagine her eyes will be red and blotchy as well.

  “Thanks to you.” I give her hand a squeeze and follow her gaze towards the cluster of trees in the front yard.

  “You’re my granddaughter, and I love you,” she says softly. “We all love you.”

  Silence once more reigns as I allow her to gather her thoughts. I can tell she has something she wants to say to me, something sitting on the edge of her tongue, but I know she needs a moment to process everything.

  After ten minutes, she releases a choked sob, and my heart breaks into thousands of pieces all over again.

  “He wasn’t truly a part of them,” she gasps at last. “You have to know that. He was undercover for the witch’s council. He had no idea the witch they captured was you until he got there. He called me as soon—” She breaks off with another rasping gasp, leaning forward and clutching at her stomach as if the pain is too much for her to handle. As if it’s spilling out of her and only her hand will keep it inside. “He loved you so much, Peony. He considered you family, even if he didn’t show it.”

  “I know.” I wrap my arm around her frail shoulders and pull her to my chest. She begins to weep in earnest, crying for the man she loved and lost. I stroke her hair and whisper words that I know won’t help, but I’m at a loss of what to do.

  At some point, Christian and Polo exit the house, both of their faces haggard and puffy, and slowly take Nana from me, holding her between them.

  I don’t know what to say to them, how to express how sorry I truly am, so instead, I walk away.

  I don’t have a destination in mind as I wander aimlessly through the halls. At least, I don’t think I do, until I find myself in front of the bathroom.

  Feeling hesitant and unsure, I push the door open and step inside, glancing at myself in the mirror for the first time since I returned.

  Dried blood coats my hair, the white color almost appearing pink. A slight, yellowish bruise sits beneath my right eye, and to be quite honest, I can’t even remember where I got it from. The two cuts on my neck are now silver, the skin slightly raised. I move my once-broken arm around in a circle, immensely grateful when I don’t feel any lingering pain or discomfort.

  Because despite my nana’s grief, she still took care of me. She still fixed my stupid mistakes. If I recall the whispered conversation correctly, she destroyed all of the voodoo dolls.

  Maybe, just maybe, this is finally over.

  And I was right—I did lose some pieces of myself. I can’t tell you for sure how many or if they’re reparable, but I’m no longer whole.

  My pieces now rest in the hands of four charming devils. Four demons from hell.

  Someone must’ve thrown a ratty T-shirt over my head, and I waste no time tugging it off. My naked flesh is a map of scars. You can try to connect them all, try to understand where I came from, but it would prove impossible. These stories are my own, and I’m very selective about who I share them with.

  I set the water’s temperature as high as it will allow before stepping beneath the blistering spray. My legs wobble slightly, threatening to collapse, and I give in to the need to sit down, wrapping my arms around myself in a futile attempt to hold all of those broken pieces together.

  I don’t know how long I stay there. Long enough for my skin to turn pink from the heat, at the very least.

  But then I hear the distinct sound of the bathroom door opening and closing. The sound of clothes being shrugged off. The rustling of the shower curtain being pulled open and then closed once more.

  A naked Lucas very gently helps me to my feet and then turns me around, until my back faces him. Without a word, he grabs my shampoo from the shelf and squirts it into his palm before rubbing his hands together. Slowly, giving me the chance to tell him no or pull away, he begins to scrub at my crusty hair. He pays particular attention to my scalp, massaging it gently with his skilled fingers, before he washes the shampoo away with the shower head. He repeats this process three times until no more blood resides in my hair. Until the water no longer looks like the scene of a crime movie.

  With a gentleness belying the hard glint in his eyes, he grabs my washcloth and pours a generous amount of body soap onto it. He starts at my arms, wiping away all of the dried and crusted blood from the wounds Emmett inflicted. I can see his lips tighten as he stares at the silver scars, but he remains silent.

  He moves the rag d
own my back, over the curve of my butt, before spinning me around. His movements are just as clinical when he washes my breasts, stomach, and thighs. At the moment, there’s nothing sexual about what he’s doing.

  I think for the first time in his life, he’s taking care of someone other than himself.

  The enormity of my emotions for this strong yet broken man consumes me. I find myself reaching for him desperately, running my fingers through his red hair, made even darker from the water.

  “Lucas…”

  He swallows heavily, his blue eyes searching my own with raw need.

  “Not like this,” he whispers. “Not when you’re hurting.”

  “It’s not because of that,” I promise, standing on my tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He trembles in my arms, even as his cock hardens, pressing against my stomach. “It’s because I realized something.” I pause, pulling back slightly to stare into his eyes. “You’re taking care of me.”

  “Of course I am.” His hands glide down my sides, resting just over the curve of my ass. “I’ll always take care of you.”

  “Why is that, Lucas?” I plant another kiss to his smooth-shaven jaw. “Tell me.”

  “Because I…” He trails off, swallowing yet again.

  “It’s for the same reason I want to take care of you,” I continue. “Because I think I’m in love with you.”

  He inhales sharply, and every pore in my body is instinctively tuned in to his. I can feel his heart beating under my palm as if it were my own. And when his eyes connect with mine, I know he feels it too. This pull. This connection.

  It’s always been there, lying dormant between two souls who thought they hated each other. But maybe it wasn’t hate that we felt. Maybe it never was.

  “I love you so much that I can’t even breathe,” Lucas says doggedly. Almost helplessly, he presses his lips to mine. The kiss is soft and slow, the exact opposite of what I expected from my ice prince. Licks of fire dance through my veins as he pulls me tight against his chest, his mouth never leaving mine.

  We’re still exchanging soft, reverent kisses when Lucas turns off the water, wraps me in his arms, and carries me out of the shower.

  But we don’t get far.

  We fall to the ground on the bathroom rug in a heap of tangled limbs as he reaches for the condom in his jeans pocket.

  And when he finally enters me, it’s like two souls converging after centuries apart. It’s like soulmates wandering the earth, waiting for this exact moment when they find each other, and the heavens rejoice. It’s like stars colliding in the night sky, becoming one.

  He’s not rough like Elias. Not fast or teasing like Cassian and Karsyn.

  He makes love to me with his whole body. Each thrust of his hips tells a story, just like the scars on my wrist do.

  His hands travel over the curves of my hips as if he wants to worship me. He tugs on each breast, tweaking my sensitive nipples. Through it all, his lips never leave me. Even when I have to pull away, gasping for air, he just moves them down to my neck, suckling at the skin there.

  I come faster and harder than I ever have in my life, and despite Lucas’s frosty exterior, I’ve never felt so warm. His cock judders inside of me before he comes as well, collapsing his sweaty body on top of mine before rolling over.

  We don’t speak as he takes me into his arms and holds me close. And no words leave us when he wraps a towel around me and then himself and carries us to the ladder leading to my bedroom. Forgoing the bed, he reclines back in the rocking chair, me still in his lap. He wraps a blanket around the both of us, and the sound of his rhythmic breathing lulls me into sleep.

  Chapter 55

  I’m woken up by the sound of shrill shouting.

  Jumping upright, I watch in dismay as the blanket and towel both slide from my body, leaving me naked. I feel a moment of panic before remembering that I’m in my bedroom with Lucas.

  My dark prince groggily opens up first one eye and then the other, looking unbelievably cute and rumpled first thing in the morning. I’m unused to seeing him look anything other than perfect, so this is a nice change.

  He smiles softly at me, eyes warming, and the familiar tendrils of lust percolate in my stomach.

  “Peony!” that high-pitched voice from before shrieks. Mother. I mean, Darlene.

  The warmth diminishes from Lucas’s eyes as if it was never there to begin with.

  I grab a hanging dress and throw it over my head, not bothering with panties or a bra. I know if I keep my mother waiting, her fury will only intensify.

  Lucas frowns in dismay when he realizes he left his own clothes in the bathroom. Quickly, I open up my top dresser drawer and throw him a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of clean basketball shorts. They were Uriel’s once upon a time, but I stole them for myself at some point during our relationship and never gave them back. What can I say? Men’s clothes are comfy.

  Lucas’s eyes could be hewn from glaciers as he stares at the obviously men’s clothing. His lips pull away from his teeth in the beginnings of a snarl, and I just know that if Uriel was here, he would be dead in a span of seconds.

  Not bothering to see if he’ll get dressed, I climb down the ladder, painfully aware that I’m not wearing underwear and anyone could look up and see me, before hustling towards the kitchen.

  Karsyn, Cassian, and Elias stand together on one side of the room, matching scowls on their faces and arms crossed over their chests. I take a brief moment to survey them uninterrupted. Despite their differences in appearances, they look so much like each other at this moment. The same mannerisms. The same fierce expressions. The same hard, unrelenting eyes.

  Mom and Ryan sit at the table, the former drinking a cup of coffee as if nothing is wrong. As if her mother hadn’t just lost one of her great loves. As if her daughter hadn’t been kidnapped and nearly sacrificed.

  And then, in the foyer with Nana, Christian, and Polo, I see them.

  The witch’s council.

  Twelve men and women of varying ages and ethnicities. The oldest appears to be in his eighties, if not his nineties, his face so wrinkled, it has more lines than the roads on a map. His shrewd eyes assess my nana silently, his lips pressed in a straight line.

  Four women huddle together near the sofa, whispering too softly for me to hear. All four of them are gorgeous with willowy frames and soft, dewy features. I imagine they are middle-aged, maybe older, though it’s hard to tell with our kind. Unlike the old man, I hazard a guess that they use spells as preventives to keep their true ages from showing.

  Two more women stand on either side of my grandma, both placing hands on her shoulders as they offer her condolences. Their black hair has streaks of gray in them, and I imagine they might be twins. At the very least, sisters.

  As my eyes scan the other occupants of the room, they stop on the youngest council member. If I had to guess, I’d say he was in his late twenties. Honey-blond hair. Green eyes that seem to glow as if there’s a candle lit behind his irises. Crooked grin.

  “You,” I whisper in shock, the word tumbling from my lips before I can contain it.

  Conversation ceases as the young man turns towards me, his grin widening.

  “You,” he says in wonder, cocking his head to the side.

  “Peony,” Nana prods warily. She takes a step away from the two sisters until she’s standing between Christian and Polo, both of whom take one of her hands in theirs for comfort. “How do you know Councilman Joshua?”

  “He…he…” How can I tell her that I met him five years ago? When he saved me? When he confronted the bullies for me when I was too scared to? How can I say that he was the first man I ever truly had a crush on?

  “Peony and I are old friends,” the man—Joshua, apparently—says with a conspiratorial smile and wink.

  I’m suddenly pressed against a hard body as arms encircle my waist and someone rests his chin on my shoulder. Cassian.

  Elias and Karsyn move to stand on either sid
e of me, muscles flexing, and I hear rather than see Lucas shift so he’s behind me. I half want to look over my shoulder to see if he’s in Uriel’s clothes, but I refrain myself.

  “What is the meaning of dragging us out here?” the older councilman barks angrily.

  “We’ve come to pay our respects to a fallen witch,” one of the black-haired sisters snaps. Her twin nods once.

  “A fallen Blood,” the old man sneers, giving Christian and Polo the side-eyed. I bristle, ready to defend them, when Joshua holds up his hands placatingly.

  “It was you who called us, Darlene,” he says, addressing my mother. I stiffen automatically. She would only call them…

  “Yes.” Darlene gracefully rises to her feet and stalks around the table, flashing a sultry smile in Joshua’s direction. The handsome councilman continues to smile at her indulgently. “As you guys already know, these four humans were made aware of the existence of witches and warlocks.” She scoffs the word human as if it leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

  Elias’s grip tightens on my hand, and Cassian’s chest begins to rumble with something resembling a growl.

  “Is that so?” Joshua turns to stare at the guys, expression decidedly curious. I wonder if he recognizes them as my childhood bullies. As soon as the thought appears in my mind, I dismiss it. I doubt he remembers much of that day. I’m honestly shocked he still remembers me.

  “I must insist we perform the memory spell.” Darlene lifts her chin snootily into the air. “For the protection of our kind.”

  “Let’s get on with it then,” one of the pretty, middle-aged witches says dismissively. All of the men begin to nod, as do most of the women. Only the twins appear hesitant, glancing between me and the guys.

  “Maybe we should ask them what they want,” one of the sisters suggests.

  “Ruby, don’t be ridiculous,” the old man snarls, and the twin, Ruby, simply steps around him, towards my guys.

  She offers us a kind smile, one that reaches her eyes, before taking my hands in both of hers. I can feel Cassian stiffen behind me, hands tightening on my waist as if he’s prepared to throw me over his shoulder and run away. But before he can do that, Ruby begins to speak.