Greed (The Damning Book 1)

by Katie May

  counter. She was a Mage, with graying hair and a hard expression. I imagined

  life had chipped away at her smile. She lost her mate when she was only a

  teenager and had been alone ever since. Alone...if you didn’t count her string

  of lovers.

  “Killian, dear, are you sure I can’t interest you in any of our girls?” she

  asked slyly. It was the same question she had asked numerous times, and, as

  always, I declined profusely.

  “Not tonight Madame,” I said smoothly, running a hand through my red

  locks. She gave me a knowing, all-seeing look. I had the distinct feeling she

  saw me more clearly than I saw myself.

  “If you change your mind…”

  “You’ll be theeee... firsttt... to know,” I assured her. Her lips turned up

  slightly at hearing my stutter, and I automatically winced.

  An Incubus with a stutter.

  An Incubus who was still a virgin.

  Could I be any more of a disappointment?

  My brothers assured me that it was normal, but I knew they were only

  trying to placate me. None of them understood my desire to save myself for

  my mate. Hell, I didn’t even understand it. It was an innate need inside of me,

  something that I couldn’t entirely discern.

  All I knew for certain was that I didn’t want to be like my father and

  mother.

  I glanced at my reflection in the window. My hair was glossy, radiant

  almost, with golden tendrils heightening the auburn color. My skin was

  muscled, almost obnoxiously so. It was just another perk of being an Incubi.

  The main perk? Tattoos. They arrived the second I reached puberty, twining

  down my arms and across my defined eight-pack. Hurt like a bitch. While the

  intricate design may have seemed pretty to some, I hated them. They were a

  constant reminder of what I was and what I had to be.

  With a sigh, I stepped out of the small building and into the bustling

  town. It was a unique blend of old and new, past and present, existing in an

  almost uncanny harmony. Broken shacks stood adjacent to large glass

  buildings. Some patches of the road were nothing more than dirt while others

  were paved asphalt. It smelled of fresh baked bread from the local bakery and

  smoke from one of the many factories.

  In the distance, I could see the mountains that surrounded the Capital. It

  was that time of year again. The Matching.

  And The Damning, though that didn’t concern me.

  Every year, our fathers would bring every eligible maiden to the Capital

  in the hopes that we would find our mate. It was a futile effort, that I knew,

  and it was more of a power play than an assurance of our happiness. A mate

  had the capability of enhancing our powers. A lot was resting on this

  Matching, especially for Jax. This was his last year to find his mate before he

  would be married to the Shifter princess. I pitied both of them.

  I also pitied my brother Devlin, though he would probably stab me if he

  knew I felt such an emotion.

  The door behind me pushed open and a familiar figure stumbled out. I

  recognized his honey blond hair, lightly curled, and emerald green eyes

  immediately. He had his arm around the waist of a petite red-head.

  “Brother!” he slurred, coming to grab me in a hug.

  “Bash,” I replied. I stumbled under his weight.

  Sebastian regarded me, eyes glazed, before turning towards the girl

  beside him.

  “Killian, this is Rachel,” he introduced.

  “It’s Allison,” she hissed.

  “That’s what I meant. Alexis.”

  I smirked. It was no surprise that Bash was intoxicated. It was also no

  surprise that he was found at a brothel the day of The Matching.

  He claimed it was because he didn’t want to meet his mate, that he didn’t

  want to be tied down. I secretly suspected it was because he was terrified he

  wouldn’t meet his mate. That asshole was a hopeless romantic.

  “We need to get back,” I said, allowing him to put his weight on me.

  Bash was a heavy bastard, that was for sure.

  “Bye Ariana!” he cooed to the girl behind him, and she hurled obscenities

  at him that would make even my mother blush.

  “We need to check on Jax.”

  “Jax?” he muttered drowsily. I could already see that I was losing him.

  Damn it. I wasn’t in the mood to lug his heavy ass back to the Capital.

  I considered, briefly, leaving him on the road. He would sober up rather

  quickly and be able to walk himself back. I decided quickly against it.

  Someone had to look after my dumbass brothers, and unfortunately, that

  person was me.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s get you to the car.”

  Believe it or not, Bash wouldn’t even be the worst problem I had to face

  that day.

  JAX WAS NAKED.

  Again.

  That was a sight I never wanted to see.

  He stood in the middle of his room, back to the doorway as he watched

  the cars slowly creep up the long driveway.

  Devlin was leaning against the far wall, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “Jax, we talked about this. You need to get dressed.” He sounded more

  annoyed than anything, as was common with Devlin.

  Jax continued to stare out the window, ignoring Devlin completely.

  “The hills go up and down. Up and down. Around and around and around

  and around...”

  Devlin cast me a helpless look, and I rolled my eyes. I hated always

  having to be the one to deal with my eccentric brother.

  “Jax,” I said soothingly. I learned long ago that he only reacted to soft,

  honey tones - a drastic contrast to Devlin’s strident voice.

  “Around and around and around and around-”

  “You need to get dressed. It’s The Matching, remember?”

  I stepped carefully in front of him, being extra cautious to avert my eyes

  from his dick. There was only so much I could deal with before I had to

  bleach my eyes.

  For a second, his face flickered with a brief flash of coherence. It was

  there and gone too quickly for me to be certain.

  “The lovers with the cord?” he asked.

  “The mate cord? Yes.”

  He nodded his head seriously. Before I could say anything else, he turned

  towards the doorway.

  “You need clothes on!” Devlin shouted after him, but Jax continued

  walking. I rubbed at my temples, my head already throbbing.

  “He needs to feed,” a cold voice said, and I jumped, though I shouldn’t

  have been surprised. Ryland stood, crouched, on the windowsill, twenty-feet

  above. I couldn’t decipher any of his features, for they were obscured in thick

  shadows. Still, his voice rang out clear in the silent room.

  “He won’t,” Devlin said. “Not that I blame him.”

  I stared at the open door where Jax had disappeared through. His mind

  was in shatters, and there was nothing I could do to piece him back together

  again. This wasn’t just a case of bandages and tape. The damage done to him

  was permanent and irreversible.

  “Can somebody please get that crazy asshole dressed?” Devlin pleaded.

  “I have somewhere I need to be in like five fucking minutes.” Both him and

  Ryland immediately turned towa
rds me.

  “Fuck you both,” I mumbled, flipping them off. With a sigh of

  resignation, I left the room to track down my crazy brother. Hopefully, I

  could get clothes on him. I didn’t want another repeat of the last Matching

  ceremony.

  FIVE

  DEVLIN

  The last thing I wanted to be heading into this meeting was worried

  about Jax. I told myself repeatedly that Killian would handle it, that

  the situation would find a way to remedy itself. I had to be the leader.

  I had to act like I actually had my shit together so nobody would question my

  decisions.

  Control.

  I reminded myself that I didn’t always need to have control.

  The mantra played on repeat in my head as I straightened my tie. Violet,

  of course, which heightened the purple in my eyes. My dark hair was slicked

  back, showcasing my sculpted cheekbones and curved jawline. As always, I

  was impeccably dressed in a gray, form-fitting suit.

  My brows furrowed in the mirror as I considered myself. Dark circles

  under my eyes, a permanent scowl etched across my face, deep lines

  crinkling my forehead.

  I was a spitting image of my father.

  To some, that might’ve brought them immense joy. For me, however, I

  wanted nothing more than to completely eradicate any resemblance I had to

  that disgusting creature. If that meant shaving off my hair, then so be it.

  Squeezing my eyelids shut, I changed the mantra in my head from

  “control” to “calm”.

  Calm. I had to remain calm. My temper had a tendency to flare at these

  meetings, a fact that failed to escape the attention of my too observant father.

  One more outburst, and I would be punished.

  She would be punished.

  No, it was better for everyone if I got a handle on my eccentric emotions.

  They had an uncanny resemblance to a rollercoaster. I would rise higher and

  higher in what felt like elation only to fall suddenly and be rendered

  immobile by a crippling depression. Sometimes, I would survive the fall;

  other times, I lost tiny pieces of myself. The extremes in my emotions had

  been more prominent the last few years, a never ending ride of twists and

  turns, ups and downs.

  Control.

  Calm.

  Taking a deep breath, I headed to a section of the Capital that housed the

  conference hall. It was a room I was intimately familiar with.

  The door was opened as I entered, bright sunlight emanating from the

  opened windows. I allowed all thoughts of my brothers to drift from my mind

  as I took stock of the scene before me.

  It was a familiar sight - a long table crafted of obsidian stones, a dozen

  leather chairs positioned in a semi-circle around the table, a single podium in

  the direct center of the room.

  Each chair was already occupied as I ventured inside. Genies - all with

  the violet eyes common for our species - chatted amongst themselves.

  Someone had brought a box of donuts, and coffee was being served by the

  waitstaff.

  For anyone looking in, it appeared to be a normal day in the office. What

  they failed to realize, however, was that they were seeing things through a

  distorted, funhouse mirror. Nothing was as it looked, and this seemingly

  innocent meeting of individuals was an example of that.

  My father sat at the head of the table, eyes flashing purple. Up close, no

  one could deny the similarities between the two of us. Same olive-toned skin.

  Same cascade of disheveled brown curls. Same violet eyes, a few shades

  lighter than the average Genie and the telltale sign of our royal lineage. As if

  he felt my eyes on him, my father turned towards me with a sly smile. His

  eyes remained chips of ice.

  He was just another thing seen differently through the funhouse mirror.

  Hundreds of smiles couldn’t hide the coldness in his eyes.

  With my father, it was all about perception. There was the way he wanted

  the world to see him, the way the world actually saw him, and the way he

  acted behind closed doors. Not one of these personas were the same.

  Only when he slid his eyes away from mine did I finally feel like I could

  breathe again. My breath left me in a swooping exhale, and I very noticeably

  slumped in my seat. Just as quickly, I straightened my spine and lifted my

  chin. No weakness.

  Control.

  Calm.

  My resolve strengthening, I turned my head towards my father. As

  always, he already garnered the attention of the entire room.

  They perceived him as the supreme ruler, the just and fair ruler.

  Perception.

  It was always perception.

  “Case number 23X73B,” he said, his strident voice echoing in the grand

  room. “Please enter.”

  A back door slid open at his command, and two Genies entered carrying a

  trembling human. They shoved him in front of the podium before resuming

  their positions against the far wall.

  The poor man couldn’t have been older than thirty. His hair was so blond

  it was almost white, and his piercing green eyes flickered anxiously from face

  to face. If he was looking for a supporter, he would find no help from this

  group of people.

  My hand clenched into a fist at what I knew was about to transpire. As

  always, I was helpless to stop it. I couldn’t risk her life.

  Calm.

  Control.

  Calm.

  “Jonathan Goodrich, you are accused of violating your contract with the

  Genie Laurel Payne. How do you plead?” My father paced in front of the

  podium, looking oddly like a feline Shifter in that moment. He could’ve been

  a lion out for the hunt, desperate to take a bite of the pathetic deer who dared

  to encroach on his territory.

  The man, Jonathan, noticeably gulped.

  “Contract?” he whispered. His eyes flickered towards a petite brunette - a

  girl I knew to be Laurel - sitting closest to the podium. She flashed him a

  flirty smile and a wink. She, like my father, was enjoying this. She enjoyed

  seeing the man squirm, sweat, cry.

  Beg.

  She would always make them beg.

  Smirking once more at the poor human, she moved to her feet and

  procured a scroll from her jacket sleeve. I recognized it as a Genie contract,

  created by our magic and bound by our blood. With an elaborate flourish, she

  unrolled the yellowing paper.

  “On July 7th, you rubbed my lamp and demanded three wishes, is that

  correct?” she asked confidently. Jonathan began to tremble.

  “Yes, but I-”

  “Did you or did you not wish for three things? A new car, a new

  apartment, and a million dollars in cash.” She ticked them off on her fingers

  as she spoke to emphasize her point.

  “I did, but-”

  “Did you or did you not sign a contract with me before said wishes were

  made?” When he remained silent, Laurel continued on dogmatically, “And

  did I or did I not provide you with what I promised?”

  The man alternated between nodding and shaking his head as if he was

  unsure of what the appropriate response was. Finally, he nodded jerkily.

  “Then what seems to be the problem?” my fa
ther asked. The same sinister

  smile I was familiar with twisted his face into something almost

  unrecognizable. It was most certainly not something I would ever see in the

  mirror. Only our smiles distinguished us from each other at that moment.

  “Laurel upheld her part of the deal, and now it’s your turn to uphold yours.”

  Before he had even finished speaking, Jonathan was already shaking his

  head.

  “No. I didn’t agree to that. No. No. No.”

  “You signed the contract,” Laurel said with feigned innocence. “It’s not

  my fault you didn’t read it beforehand.”

  “I didn’t know you would ask for my soul!” he exploded. Tears welled in

  his eyes, and he turned his attention towards the other Genies present in the

  room. His eyes begged us to stand up for him, to plead for him, to be the

  defender he so desperately needed.

  My nails created crescent shape indents in my skin. Still I pressed down

  tighter, willing blood to be drawn. Pain. I needed more pain.

  Calm.

  Control.

  Calm.

  Remain calm.

  My breathing was harsh to my own ears. I didn’t want to watch this

  again. I couldn’t. There was only so much a person could take before they

  snapped. Still, I forced myself not to look away as my father strolled up to the

  trembling man.

  “You made the deal, son, and I would hate to set the precedence that there

  will be no consequences for someone backing out of one. Do you

  understand? It’s nothing personal.” Turning away from him, my father

  addressed the blood-thirsty crowd. “As supreme ruler and King of the Genies,

  I find Jonathan to be guilty of breaking his contract. To remedy the wrongs

  he created, I require his soul to be handed over to Laurel, effective

  immediately.”

  The man began to scream then, and the sound would haunt me. If only I

  wasn’t such a damn coward. If only I had the strength to stand up to my

  father and protect the people I loved.

  Expression gleeful, Laurel grabbed her lamp and mumbled a familiar

  incantation. As I watched, transfixed, a sobbing Jonathan began to be pulled

  by an unseen force towards the lamp. His body turned into a cloud of purple

  smoke, and his features blurred until they were nearly indistinct. Still, I could

  clearly see his mouth opened in a cry of agony before he dematerialized into