by Katie May
Charming Devils
Katie May
Expresso Publishing, LLC
Copyright © 2020 by Katie May
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover by Creative Cover Book Designs
Edited by Expresso Publishing, LLC
Proofread by Meghan Leigh Daigle with Bookish Dreams Editing
This a Reverse Harem Paranormal Bully/Revenge Romance and is not suited for those under the age of 18.
To all the readers who find psychos and bad boys sexy. Don’t worry. You’re not alone. We actually have a support group here.
Contents
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
About the Author
Also by Katie May
Foreword
This is a paranormal revenge/bully reverse harem romance and is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. It contains strong language, psychotic males, and sexual situations. It does contain triggers of self-harm, depression, and sexual abuse, though everything between the FMC and her men is consensual.
If you don’t like a kickass FMC who doesn’t need to choose between her love interests…then this book isn’t for you. Or if you’re in any way, shape, or form related to me. Or if you know me outside of the author world. Put. This. Book. Done. Seriously, Grandma.
Prologue
Five Years Ago
I stared at the stain on my white blouse. The cranberry color seeped through the thin fabric, highlighting the outline of my beige bra.
Tears of indignation filled my eyes as I spun in a wide circle.
“Hello? Can anyone hear me?”
The last thing I remembered was walking home from school. And then, a car had pulled up alongside me, and four figures bedecked in superhero costumes had jumped out. Their scrawny, childlike frames made me think that they were approximately my age—thirteen. I wondered which of them had stolen his parents’ car.
With more force than necessary, they’d wrenched my hands behind my back and shoved a burlap sack over my head. I’d thrashed and screamed helplessly, but only raucous laughter filled the air.
And now, I was here.
They had untied me and removed the sack, but that didn’t mean I could escape. One glance confirmed I was in the men’s locker room, adjacent to the middle school’s football stadium. The pungent stench of sweat and piss barraged my sensitive nose. Lockers lined one wall opposite the showers, with wooden benches spread out before them.
Feeling dizzy, I lunged towards the door and tried the handle. Locked, of course.
“Let me out!” I screamed, pounding my fists against the distressed wood. Panic coursed through my veins as the ramifications of what they had done fully caught up to me.
I was trapped.
Desperate, I raced towards the nearest window and attempted to dislodge it from its casing. Unsurprisingly, it was stuck. I was pretty sure it hadn’t been opened once in the last five years. I pressed my fingers beneath the pane, ignoring the blood from my ravaged fingernails, and sought to pry it open. Sweat beaded on my forehead and dripped down my nose.
Fear engulfed me in an icy embrace as a sob lodged itself in my throat. I pressed my forehead against the glass, desperate to soothe my frayed nerves.
Be calm. Be calm. Be calm.
“Look at the little baby,” a cold voice sneered from behind me. I spun, unsurprised to find my four kidnappers. Spider-Man had removed his mask, and I found myself standing face to face with my middle school tormenter.
“Let me go,” I pleaded, tears blurring my vision. His lips curled up into a cruel, malevolent smirk, though his eyes remained impish. The combination caused the tiny hairs on my arms to stand on end. Rage and fear swarmed through me, like I’d kicked over an angry hornet’s nest.
If I was only a few years older…I could blast all of these assholes into oblivion. But for now, all I could do was be the foolish prey to their beasts. The mouse caught in their painstakingly constructed traps.
“Not until you submit.” He took a menacing step forward. “Not until you know that we don’t accept freaks in our town.”
Chapter 1
Now
There’s a distinct difference between the California air and Michigan’s. For one, it’s not nearly as humid, despite being the end of August. For two, it feels almost…cleaner. Less industrialized.
I stare out my window at the busy tourist town. Behind sun-kissed stands, Lake Michigan spreads as far as the eye can see. The sunlight glimmers on the serene surface, making it appear as if it’s constructed out of thousands of diamonds. Families are happily playing in the water, sunbathing on the land, and moving from food stand to food stand. The entire atmosphere evokes feelings of love and joy.
“I’d forgotten how beautiful this place is,” I whisper, pressing my face against the car window.
“Just wait until it snows,” my driver, Charles, exclaims with a snort. “It won’t be beautiful then.”
“I love the snow.” Absently, I lift my finger and trace the outline of a happy family relaxing beneath an umbrella. The wife is sunbathing, a paperback forgotten on her chest. The husband is building sandcastles with two little girls, their faces alight with happiness.
What must it be like to be that carefree? That happy? To know you are loved? Sure, this family probably has some demons—as we all do—but I can’t ignore the pang of jealousy that spears me as I watch them.
It isn’t long until they’re completely out of sight.
I can tell when we leave the tourist hotspot. The once congregated buildings begin to space out, until we’re surrounded completely by fields. Interspersed are magnificent countr
y ranches.
“Has Mother called yet?” I ask, turning away from the rolling landscape to face Charles fully. In the rearview mirror, I see his face pinch and eyes shadow over. I know what he’s going to say even before he says it.
“No. I’m sorry, Miss Peony.”
I swallow down the bitter disappointment, focusing once more on the landscape. We drive through what appears to be a downtown area with cobblestone streets, quaint shops and restaurants, and numerous benches. I remember running down this exact sidewalk…
“You can’t run from me forever,” a cold voice shouted as my footsteps pounded against the asphalt of the street. Up above, I spotted the bright lights of Mama’s House, the local diner.
Just a little farther…
“Found you,” he whispered in my ear.
I pull myself out of the memories that threaten to drag me under and consume me. Vigorously shaking my head, I shove them in a steel casket and bury it miles beneath the surface, never to be seen or heard from again.
As we drive out of town, I begin to pay closer attention to my surroundings. The family-owned grocery store in desperate need of repair. The dog park with rusted fences and precariously tilting steel benches.
High Groves Middle School.
My eyes narrow at the unassuming brick building as the car passes it. I know, logically, that I’ll now be attending the high school across town, but I can’t stop the stab of hate and anger that bombards me.
“Your nana is expecting you,” Charles says conversationally. “She set up a room for you in the attic.”
“She didn’t have to do that,” I murmur awkwardly, anxiously chewing on my lower lip. I haven’t seen Nana in years, and I can’t deny the flicker of self-consciousness that reverberates through me.
We pull up in front of wrought iron gates, and Charles steps out of the car to manually open them. I attempt to peer around the boughs of trees, desperate to catch a glimpse of my childhood home.
It’s only when Charles enters the car once more and begins the trek up the curving driveway, do I see the gothic mansion nestled snugly in the middle of a secluded forest.
It’s four stories high with numerous gables and turrets. Two gargoyles perch on the roof, their stone faces sending pinpricks of fear racing down my spine. The brown paint on the walls has faded in some spots, though I can’t decide if it’s from inconsistent weather or time itself. Leaves cover the front steps and porch, already turning hues of black and brown instead of their normal orange and yellow.
My memories of this place depict it as being grand and elegant, plucked straight out of a fairy tale. Was I really that blind to the desolate home towering before me?
“Can I help you with your bags?” Charles asks, already hurrying around the car to open my door for me. His face is weathered by age, deep lines carved down both of his cheeks and around his eyes. When he walks, his back hunches over, almost as if there’s a weight pressing down on the middle of his spine.
“I got it,” I hurry to respond. “Thank you, Charles.” He smiles, showcasing his crooked teeth, and I feel my own lips curve upwards instinctively. Charles has become a fixture in my life. It’s going to be hell saying goodbye to him.
I grab my single duffel bag and sling it over my shoulder. The rest of my belongings were sent over earlier.
The pathway leading up to the house is bogged down with weeds, and the air smells like grass and garbage.
Still, there’s a skip to my step that hadn’t been there prior as I rap my knuckles against the front door. Charles steps up beside me and offers me a reassuring smile. I relish the wrinkled curve of his lips and the sparkle in his eyes. It makes me feel braver, stronger, capable of doing what I’d set out to do in the first place.
Taking another deep, ragged breath, I pound on the door a second time. After a moment of prolonged silence, I hear the patter of footsteps and the jangle of bracelets.
“Peony!” a raspy voice says, even before the door fully opens. “I wasn’t expecting you for at least a couple more hours.”
“Mom decided to send me off early,” I reply dryly. Correction—she practically threw me out of the house.
The door opens the rest of the way, and I get my first good look at Nana, otherwise known as Cardinal Simone. Her naturally gray hair has been dyed a bright violet, the curls cascading to the middle of her back. Despite her age, she has no wrinkles on her face. The only indication that she’s above forty is the wisdom emanating from her muddy brown eyes. She wears a silky floral robe over a translucent nightgown, and I quickly look away before I can see something I’ll never be able to unsee.
“Nana…” I murmur just as footsteps resonate from behind her. A moment later, three handsome young men—triplets, more than likely—begin pawing at my grandmother. One of them kisses her neck while the other cups her breasts. The final male tilts her chin to the side to kiss her lips. All of them are heavily muscled, with chestnut brown hair and emerald green eyes. They look to be in their mid-twenties, younger than Nana by over forty years.
And they’re also butt ass naked.
“Not now, my pets,” Nana coos, slapping one of them on the ass. “I have my granddaughter over to visit me.”
“For fuck’s sake…” I curse, diverting my attention towards a hanging plant. Charles’s face turns beet-red as he focuses on his feet.
“I-I’ll just be…um…going…Miss Peony,” he stutters, finally raising his head to meet my gaze. There’s a question flashing in his eyes, one he doesn’t dare say out loud.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him softly, pulling him into a tight embrace. Fuck, I’m going to miss the old man. A lot. I might actually cry—which is an oddity by itself, considering the fact I haven’t cried since middle school.
“Call me if you need anything,” he whispers in my ear. “Anything at all. Someone to talk to. Someone to listen to you. Even just someone to raise your spirits.”
“I will,” I promise, rubbing his back.
With great reluctance, I force myself to step away from the man who has been more like a father to me than my own ever had the chance to. I’m stunned to see tears in his eyes, but he blinks them away before I can comment.
“I need to return to your mother,” he announces, already turning back towards the sleek car still idling in the driveway. “Call me when you settle in.”
“Will do.” I lift my hand in a cheery wave as he begins to back out of the driveway. “Be safe!”
I watch him until he disappears in the twisting landscape of maples and oaks. The farther away he gets, the more it feels as if my heart is physically crumbling into thousands of pieces.
“I always liked Charles,” Nana says, seemingly oblivious to the men lathering her body with attention. With a roll of her eyes, she grips the hair of one of the men and pushes him away. He collapses onto his ass, eyes blinking rapidly as if coming out of a daze. “Enough. This isn’t appropriate behavior for my granddaughter to see.”
“You don’t fucking say,” I mumble.
“Ignore them,” Nana whispers conspiratorially. “They’re just a bunch of horny dogs.” Despite her crude words, she stares at them fondly, almost reverently. “That’s Polo, Christian, and Gabriel,” she introduces, gesturing to each one.
“Um…hi?” Because really, how else am I supposed to greet my grandmother’s much younger boyfriends?
“Pleasure to meet you!” the one she introduced as Christian exclaims, extending a hand. All I can do is eye the proffered limb warily. Heaven only knows what he used it for.
“Peony,” I answer, lifting my duffel bag helplessly in the air as an excuse not to shake his hand.
Polo, standing beside Christian, smiles warmly and offers me a nod, but Gabriel merely glares and grunts. Oh, boy.
“Let me show you your room.” Nana, in her usual dramatic fashion, sashays away from her lovers and towards a grand staircase situated in the center of the parlor. She pauses abruptly and raises one gray brow. “Are yo
u coming?”
With a huff, I begin to trudge after her, ignoring Christian’s offer to carry my bag, and my eyes devour the ostentatious interior greedily.
The walls display a hint of color, now faded with time—ghostly mosaics and shredded paintings propped over the pale, orchid-colored walls. Tall marble vases dot the ceramic-tiled floor, each holding clenched buds withering in their bug-riddled refuse and overgrown grass. A five-tiered chandelier hangs from the ceiling, covered in a fine layer of dust. From what I can see, there are no televisions or any modern electronic appliances.
There better be a fucking coffee maker, or else I’m going to riot.
Nana continues to lead me up the stairs until we reach the entrance to an attic, the ladder already pulled down. I eye the dark hole with trepidation, memories once more coming to the forefront of my mind.
The steel walls of the locker seemed to steadily be shrinking like a vise. Each breath I took had my chest constricting. My hands brushed the cold door, currently locked shut.
“Please let me out,” I sobbed, pounding my fists against the steel. Through the slats, I could see their grinning faces, nothing but mirth and wicked excitement reflected back at me.
