Greed (The Damning Book 1)

by Katie May

  While most humans have been taught to fear Nightmares, most of all royalty,

  this man looked at Killian with what I could only describe as respect.

  “Would you mind grabbing the picnic basket out of the fridge in the

  kitchen, Brad?” Killian asked. His eyes flashed towards me, and he smiled

  shyly. “I forgot.”

  “Right away.”

  Without another word, the servant - Brad - hurried towards a door that I

  assumed led in the direction of the kitchen. I watched him go, awe mixing

  with confusion.

  “You know his name,” I said at last.

  Killian blinked at me in surprise.

  “Of course I know his name.” He almost appeared insulted, and I hurried

  to explain.

  “Most Night- I mean, Supernatural creatures don’t bother to learn the

  names of the help. Of the humans. It’s a way to dehumanize them and place

  them low in this constructed social hierarchy.”

  I shrugged, long since accepting the role I was expected to play in life. In

  their minds, I wasn’t worthy of having a name, of being anything besides a

  slave, a servant, and a pawn.

  Killian’s eyes darkened with anger, and at first, I feared I had overstepped

  with my rather crude comment. It took me a moment to realize the anger

  wasn’t directed at me, but at the situation.

  “The way people are treated is ridiculous,” he said at last, teeth grinding

  together.

  Despite already knowing the answer, I tentatively asked, “And you don’t

  treat people like that?”

  He released a heavy sigh, his hand creeping up to rub at his temples.

  When he finally met my gaze, there was such melancholy in his eyes.

  “Not every Nightmare is evil, just not like every human is good. There

  are facets in every aspect of nature - good and bad, light and dark. There are

  some people who are actively seeking to rid the world of humans for good.”

  His lip curled dangerously at that statement. “But there are others fighting for

  equal rights between supernaturals and humans. Do you know how my

  mother died?”

  The question was so sudden that all I could do was blink up at him like an

  imbecile. I managed an inarticulate “huh?”.

  “My mother was the soulmate of my father. She was an Incubus, like

  him, but she never had sex before marrying my father. Hell, she had never

  engaged in any sexual activities besides what was necessary for her survival.

  My father, on the other hand, had a different lover every night, even after

  meeting and falling in love with my mother. Often, these lovers were

  humans. He preferred them that way, for he was able to drain them

  completely.”

  His eyes turned distant, lost in a memory only he could see.

  “When I was five-years old, I got a nanny. She was only twenty, and she

  was a human servant.” At this, a small smile graced his features. It was

  apparent he cared deeply for this woman. “She was my second mother. My

  older sister. She was with us for years.”

  His hand clenched on his leg, and I instinctively reached over to pull

  apart his fingers. Tiny, crescent indents remained in his skin from his keen

  nails.

  “When I was ten, I began to go through puberty. I didn’t know what was

  happening. All I knew was that my body was changing and growing, and no

  one understood.” I gripped his hand tighter. Somehow, I knew that this story

  wouldn’t have a happy ending. For anyone. “I made the mistake of telling my

  father, and he sent...he sent my nanny to my room. He told me that I had to

  sleep with her.”

  My heart ached for the little boy that had his childhood torn from him in

  such a way. An incandescent fury burned a hole in my stomach at the thought

  of his father. Forcing his son to sleep with a woman he considered a mother?

  It was beyond disgusting.

  “She refused, of course, but my dad didn’t like that. He raped her right in

  front of me, draining her body dry.” A single teardrop cascaded down his

  face. I used my free-hand to capture it before it could reach his lips.

  “I am so sorry,” I whispered, despite knowing how inadequate those

  words were. I always hated when people apologized to me. It wasn’t their

  fault that my parents and S died. Sorry was just a word we used when we

  didn’t know what else to say.

  “My mother,” Killian continued, eyes misting with tears. My body moved

  closer against his, and I gently rested my head on his shoulder. A stranger’s

  shoulder.

  And yet…

  And yet it felt like a piece of my soul becoming whole once more.

  “My mother killed herself shortly after. She couldn’t live with the

  knowledge of what her husband had done, and she couldn’t live with the fact

  that she still loved him. Sometimes, we crave the darkness when the light is

  too much for us to handle. She left me alone with that monster. That was how

  I developed my stutter. After her death, he beat me nearly to death. One of

  his blows landed on my throat. No amount of sexual energy or healing spells

  could fix the damage. We don’t understand why, but we concluded that he

  had placed a spell on me to prohibit such healing.”

  It was official. I was going to skin his dad alive and then feed him to the

  gators.

  My thoughts were interrupted by approaching footsteps. The servant from

  earlier appeared with a blanket and picnic basket. After exchanging quick

  pleasantries with Killian, he spread out the blanket, placed the basket on top,

  and hurried away.

  Killian handed me a turkey and cheese sandwich, the crust neatly

  trimmed off. A lump formed in my throat at the sight. My mother always

  used to cut off the crust when she packed me my lunches.

  “Does it bother you?” Killian asked, after a couple minutes of

  comfortable silence had passed.

  “Does what bother me?”

  “My stutter.”

  “No,” I answered honestly. “I barely even notice it. My dad had a stutter

  as well, though his only came out when he was nervous.”

  I remembered he once had to give a speech at my kindergarten

  graduation. He could barely get the first word out. My mother climbed up on

  the stage, took his hand, and gave him the strength to finish. It was one of my

  last memories of them.

  “You said ‘had’...” Killian trailed off, allowing me to choose whether or

  not I would answer. The man had bared his soul to me, had made himself

  vulnerable in front of a stranger. Though it went against every fiber of my

  being, I owed it to him to give him the same level of trust. For so long, I had

  kept shields around my heart. They were impenetrable barriers that nobody

  dared break. At that moment, a tiny crack appeared.

  “They were killed,” I said bluntly. “By Nightmares.”

  There was no guilt in his face, only sadness. It struck me as odd that he

  didn’t classify himself as a Nightmare, that he separated himself from that

  title and identity. There was also empathy in his handsome face. I realized

  long ago that there was a distinct difference between empathy and sympathy.

  You never really understood what someone was going t
hrough unless you

  had been through it yourself. We had both lost people, and that bond

  connected us in a way only shared grief could.

  “And then I made the stupid mistake of falling in love. Twice.” I snorted

  at how ridiculous I had been. “The first man left me.” And had torn my heart

  to pieces in the process. “The second one was killed. By a rogue Shifter.”

  And it should’ve been me. If I hadn’t gotten involved…

  If I hadn’t insisted…

  If I hadn’t…

  I couldn’t allow my thoughts to continue down that dark path. Guilt

  would consume me.

  To keep from divulging anything else, I took another bite of my

  sandwich.

  “Yum,” I mumbled around a mouthful of food. Killian hesitantly traced a

  pattern on my arm. The touch made my stomach flutter and for goosebumps

  to appear on my skin.

  “So we both had fucked up lives?” he asked softly.

  Up and down his finger went.

  Up and down.

  Up and down.

  “I know the only reason you agreed to go to lunch with me was to figure

  out how much I knew about your identity,” Killian said casually, and I tensed

  beneath his stroking fingers.

  Up and down.

  Up and down.

  “I don’t care that you’re an assassin. I don’t care that you’re competing in

  The Damning. I don’t care that you kill Nightmares for a living. I care about

  the girl I see now. And what I see is someone funny and smart and so

  incredibly beautiful.”

  “You don’t even know me,” I whispered, my heart in my throat. Tears

  sprang to my eyes unbidden.

  “I know.” He sighed heavily. “Trust me, I know.”

  We were amicably silent for another moment, each finishing up the last of

  the sandwiches and basking in our own thoughts. I didn’t know how I felt

  about his revelation. It was immensely dangerous for him to know who I was,

  both for me and for him.

  “What’s this?” he asked, pulling away from me. I immediately missed the

  warmth he emitted and hated myself for my neediness. I told myself I just

  met this man, that it was irrational and utterly illogical to have feelings for

  him. But my traitorous body refused to listen.

  It took me a moment to realize that Killian was grabbing something out of

  my purse. For a horrible, nauseating second, I thought he had noticed the

  knives I had packed away. That fear turned into confusion when he pulled out

  a small paperback book.

  I recognized it immediately as the book Ryland had thrown at my head.

  Lovers on the Snowtop.

  “Is this what the scary assassin reads?” Killian teased, quirking a brow in

  amusement. I felt my cheeks flame.

  How did that even get into my purse?

  The answer came easily: Ryland.

  Flipping it opened, Killian peered down at the novel.

  “She massaged his balls, and he rubbed her lady part. She came like a

  wave cresting against the shore...the shore of pleasure. ”

  Killian paused and flipped to a new page.

  “Her hot molten lady cave quivered. ”

  Frowning, he turned towards one of the last pages.

  “His huge cock filled up her ass crack. It was as if she was taking the

  meanest shit in her life...and what the hell am I even reading?”

  Killian dropped the book as if it was on fire.

  “It’s an erotica,” I said with a giggle. When Killian continued to look

  down at it with horror, I timidly asked, “Have you ever been with a girl

  before Kill?”

  His eyes flickered to my face, and he noticeably gulped.

  “I didn’t want to be like him. Like my father.”

  “So how do you survive if you don’t have sex?” I was genuinely curious.

  From what I knew, Incubi needed sex to live until they found their fated

  mate. And from what I knew of Killian, he had yet to find her.

  “Sexual energy,” he said at last. “I go to brothels and sit in the hallways.”

  Before I could rethink my words, I whispered, “Do you want to?”

  “Want to what?” It sounded as if he wasn’t breathing.

  “Touch a female.”

  Now I was positive he was holding his breath. I could feel his incredible

  power rise up in tandem to his own lust. His eyes flared with desire.

  “I want to touch you more than anything,” he gasped at last.

  “Okay.”

  Without breaking eye-contact, I pulled my shirt over my head. He sharply

  inhaled, eyes roaming the exposed skin of my stomach. The air was slightly

  chilly with only my bra and pants on, but I had never felt so warm before. His

  gaze set my skin on fire.

  Slowly, as if giving me the chance to change my mind, his fingers

  touched the sides of my stomach. They were as light as a moth’s wing, gently

  tracing my protruding rib cage.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, leaning closer. The movement

  propelled me backwards until I was lying on the grass with him overtop of

  me. Normally, I would’ve hated being in that type of position. I was at the

  mercy of another individual - but I only felt empowered with Killian staring

  down at me as if I was a goddess personified. “So beautiful.”

  I reached for the clasp in my pants, wiggling them down my hips. Killian

  helped me pull them all the way off.

  His hands started at my toes and slowly made their way up. Over my

  calves. My thighs.

  They paused there, lightly drawing invisible designs on the sensitive skin,

  before moving upwards. They skimmed my hips, his fingers sliding beneath

  the elastic of my underpants and touching the bare skin there. I moaned at the

  contact, tiny spurts of his power rushing straight to my core.

  He pulled away suddenly, eyes hooded and fixated on my heaving chest.

  Nodding to give him permission to touch me further, I unclasped my bra

  strap.

  Killian leaned over me once again, and I felt his dick press against my

  mound, only his pants and my underwear separating us. I yearned to

  articulate his broad, tattooed shoulders through touch alone, yet I resisted.

  This was about him. Only him.

  His hand cupped one of my breasts, testing the size, while the other

  tentatively drew a circle around the mound. His finger went upwards until it

  was hovering over my peaked nipple. Eyes locked on mine, his finger grazed

  the tip.

  I let out another mewl from his simple, innocent touch. I wanted him to

  consume me, to eat me alive, to make me his.

  As if he could read my mind, he lowered his mouth to my aching breast

  and darted his tongue out to lick my nipple. His expression turned

  contemplative as he watched me - the desire I knew was in my eyes, my

  opened mouth as I struggled to breathe, my incoherent pleas. The smile that

  lit up his face was smug satisfaction and so positively male that I couldn’t

  resist moaning yet again. He dropped his head back to my breast, his teeth

  grazing my peak. He rolled my other nipple between his thumb and

  forefinger, the same way he had the grass earlier.

  Before I could beg him to continue, he began kissing down my breasts.

  Down my stomach. Once he reached my panties, he paused, hot breat
h

  warming my aching core. Over the thin material of my underwear, his tongue

  darted out and licked a long line over the seams.

  “Yum. You taste delicious,” he murmured. All I could do was whimper

  for him to continue. Using one hand to press my underwear to the side, his

  skilled tongue finally met my wet slit. The pleasure was immeasurable. I was

  a trembling pile of puddy under his inexperienced, albeit obviously skilled,

  hands. And tongue.

  “Again.”

  His tongue leisurely licked me yet again. Savoring me. Tasting me.

  It wasn’t enough. Call me a greedy bitch, but I wanted him to devour me.

  I wanted to get lost in his body and forget my own name. I wanted us to

  merge as one, so I had trouble deciphering where he ended and I began.

  I wanted-

  The arrow soared through the air, landing millimeters away from my

  head. I froze, and Killian staggered backwards in horror. Another arrow

  descended, and it would’ve hit me if Killian hadn’t pulled me out of its path

  with an almost blistering speed. I pressed my naked body against his, panting.

  “Shit,” I cursed, glancing towards the roof of the Capital. I could make

  out a silhouette in the golden glow from the high sun.

  We were under attack.

  TWENTY-ONE

  JAX

  The insistent stomping of feet reverberating down the hallway.

  Coming. They were coming. Coming for me.

  Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

  The grandfather clock ticked simultaneous with the footsteps.

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  And the voices….

  I pressed my hands over my ears, a futile but desperate attempt to drown

  out the sounds. I didn’t want to hear them. I didn’t want to hear anything. For

  the umpteenth time, I debated detaching my ears from my head.

  Too loud.

  The voices, the footsteps, the tick tick tick of the clock. My head pounded

  at the onslaught of noise, my senses over-stimulated.

  Your fault…

  Monster…

  Drink…

  So thirsty…

  “Stop!” I screamed at the voices. Why couldn’t anyone else hear them?

  Why wouldn’t they just leave me alone? I moved further down the carpeted

  hallway, anxiously glancing from door to door. I hated doors. Anything or

  anyone could be lurking behind them. Doors were meant to be open, and yet

  they were always closed.

  Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.