Charming Devils: A Bully/Revenge Reverse Harem Romance

by Katie May

  Mariabella pulls away from me as if I’m on fire, a scowl distorting her pretty features, even as her skin turns red.

  “You’re disgusting, Em.”

  “But you love it.” He gives my cheek a chaste kiss, one that causes butterflies to take flight in my stomach, before pulling away and moving to complete our misshapen triangle. “Now, what are you thanking Peony for?”

  “You’re rather nosey today, did you know that?” Mariabella huffs with a small grin.

  “Nosey? That’s rather rude, wouldn’t you say, Peony?” He bats his ridiculously long lashes at me. “It’s perfectly acceptable to be curious about my best friends’ lives.”

  “Best friend?” I snort in disbelief, giving his shoulder a half-hearted shove.

  “Fine.” He releases another petulant sigh. “I meant to say future girlfriend.”

  A snort of laughter escapes me unbidden as I roll my eyes to the heavens. “Mariabella’s right—you are disgusting. And nosey.”

  “Hurtful!” He places his hand over his heart and adopts a slightly adorable frown.

  But before I can tease him about it, I become aware of a figure rapidly approaching. The crowd parts for him instinctively, as if he has an electric force field around him that propels others away.

  Lucas Scott looks handsome today, with his red hair slicked back and a comfy, dark green sweater clinging to his muscular frame. He even wears an easy-going smile, as if his beautiful face doesn’t hide a monster. He’s a psychopath made flesh, his perfection belying a dark and twisted soul.

  “Lucas,” I say curtly as he stops in front of me, shoving Emmett out of the way.

  “I need to talk to you,” he growls, the noise practically wrenched from his throat. It’s primal and possessive, and for some odd reason, it sends a thrill shooting through me like a fallen star.

  Flashing him a saccharine sweet smile, I step away from a frowning Mariabella and a scowling Emmett. “Of course,” I all but purr, crooking my finger in a come-hither gesture. Lucas appears confused, a crease forming between his eyes, before he blanks his expression, steps in front of me, and leads me towards a nearly empty stairwell.

  When we’re alone, and he whirls towards me with the fires of hell in his eyes, I offer him another sugary smile, one guaranteed to give you toothache. “What can I do for you, Lucas?” I ask pleasantly.

  “Why are you here?” he demands. He doesn’t cross his arms over his chest. He doesn’t take a step closer. Hell, he doesn’t even blink as he stares down at me with his icy blue eyes. But he doesn’t need to do any of that to make me terrified.

  I try not to be intimidated, but a sliver of fear snakes down my back before I can contain it. Everything about Lucas is just so much…more. He might not be the largest in the room, he might not even possess any supernatural powers, but there’s no denying that he’s by far the scariest monster that ever walked this earth.

  “Why. Did. You. Come. Back?” He says each word slowly, curtly, as if I’m hard of hearing or an imbecile. His condescending tone only makes my hackles rise, but I keep my smile firmly plastered on my face.

  “To destroy you,” I answer bluntly, and I have the brief satisfaction of seeing surprise flicker in his eyes, there and gone in less than a second. His lips don’t even twitch as he meets my stare with a toe-curling one of his own.

  “Excuse me?”

  This man…he’s the fucking Grim Reaper come to collect my soul and bring me to hell. I have no doubt about that. And maybe when this is all over, I’ll be okay with selling my soul to the devil. I know I won’t be the same girl I started as, because so many pieces have been carved away.

  Maybe there will be nothing left of me at the very end for hell to even take.

  “I think you heard me perfectly fine, Lucas,” I say softly, almost smugly.

  Like before, another emotion breaks through the cracks in his mask, and I see pure rage reflected back at me. I wonder if I look at him like that—like I want to put my hands around his throat and strangle the life out of him. Watch it bleed from his eyes.

  Because I’ll never hate anyone more than I hate Lucas Scott.

  “You think you can destroy me?” He releases a harsh bark of laughter before dipping his head down, his lips a hair’s breadth away from my own. “You don’t have the power to do that, little witch. You’re nothing to me, and you’ll never be able to break me.”

  Despite his sincere words, I maintain my smile, knowing it’ll only infuriate him more. “You sound scared, Lucas, and you should be. Because mark my words, I will destroy you. I’ll make you wish you never met me.” Pressing up onto my tiptoes, I place my lips directly to his ear. “I’ll make you wish you never teased this little witch.”

  His eyes darken as he glares down at me before he quickly replaces it with a smile of his own. He doesn’t even bother to hide the insanity in his gaze, the cutting edge of his lips, the cruelness evident in the harsh planes of his face. He’s beauty and death, and his eyes ensnare me as effectively as a knife slamming into my chest, rendering me immobile.

  “Game on, little witch,” he purrs, his tone reminding me of the forbidden fruit Eve ate. Something decadent and wicked. Something you know you shouldn’t covet but do so anyway.

  “Game on, asshat,” I reply back, spinning on my heel and leaving the stairwell. I can feel his eyes on my skin as the door slams shut, effectively severing the pull he had on me. The intoxicating, insufferable pull.

  Lucas Scott will be the hardest of all the Devils to break.

  But it will just make his demise that much sweeter.

  Chapter 14

  For second hour Orchestra, Mr. Tucker sent us all to the private practice rooms. In his mind, we can’t play as a cohesive unit if we’re unable to perform individually.

  Personally, I’m grateful for the reprieve from Felicia’s constant sneers and scowls. The girl really doesn’t like me much, which is odd because we play two completely different instruments. It’s not as if we’re competing for solos or anything, so what’s her deal?

  Ignoring the lingering stares I can feel piercing my spine, I hurry towards an empty practice room a few doors down. The first room I step into is already occupied, so I settle for the one beside that.

  Which happens to be the same room I witnessed Cassian getting a blowie from our married English teacher. Oh, I really shouldn’t laugh, but it’s too damn funny not to.

  Smirking slightly, I settle myself into the black chair and get comfortable before removing my instrument from the case. Well, not technically mine. I still have to borrow a violin from the school until I can afford to pay for my own. I’ve searched online, but even a used one is way out of my price range until I can find myself a paying job. I do have some money saved up from my time in the coven, but I’d planned to use that for college. It’s not like I’m going to get financial help from Mommy Dearest. Hell, I’m not even sure if my grades are good enough to receive even a partial scholarship.

  Frowning at the direction of my thoughts, I set the instrument beneath my chin and grab the stringed bow, content to lose myself for the next fifty minutes.

  My body trembles with the need to play, to express myself. The confrontations with first Elias and then Lucas play on a continuous loop in my head as I disregard the sheet music and begin to play from my heart.

  The song starts off slow, sad, almost melancholic as the bow dances across the four strings. And then, in tandem with my festering anger, the notes turn harsh and clipped. I can feel my lips curling into a scowl as I brutalize the instrument, pouring all of my pain into the instrumental song.

  Pain. Heartache. Anger. Vengeance.

  They all mesh together as I move my fingers rapidly over the strings. It feels almost euphoric to lose myself to the music, to the anger physically manifesting itself in each consecutive note.

  Finally, I reach a crescendo moments before the song reaches a natural ending, the music ceasing as abruptly as it began. Just like my time here wit
h the Devils. I’ve come in as an avenging angel, and then I’ll disappear soundlessly into the night.

  Slow clapping has me dropping the instrument and blinking wildly at the intruder.

  Cassian fucking Jereome.

  “You’ve gotten better, baby,” he purrs as he grabs a second chair and sits on it backwards. He drapes his arms lazily over the back of the chair as he flashes me a singularly beautiful smile, one that reveals the dimples on both of his cheeks.

  “Don’t call me that,” I huff as I lower the violin into my case, trying to pretend that I don’t feel his eyes grazing every inch of exposed skin.

  “Why? I remember hearing you play once in middle school, and you guys all sounded like a pack of dying hyenas.” He chuckles gruffly, but my mind is struck on what he just confessed to. When did he ever hear me play? We didn’t perform for the school, sans a family-only event in the spring. Had he planned something nefarious that day? Had he been there in the audience? Why didn’t he do anything?

  “Why are you here, Cassian?” I ask snidely as I clasp the locks on the case closed.

  “I could be asking you the same thing.” I hear the sound of his footsteps, and suddenly, he’s hovering over me, those dark brown eyes of his drilling a hole into my scalp. One of his fingers touches my cheek, trailing from the corner of my eye, across my lips, and then to my chin. I can’t help but notice that his hands are rougher than I would’ve guessed them to be. It’s apparent that he uses these hands daily, the callouses clearly from a guitar. “What do you want, baby? Because I can give you everything your twisted heart desires.” He leans down until his dark face is all I can see.

  “What the… Are you trying to fucking seduce me?” I squeak, practically falling off the chair in my attempt to escape.

  Abruptly, his eyes harden, and the lust that darkened them only a moment earlier dissipates. His plush lips curl downwards as he scowls at me.

  “What you said before…in AP Lit…”

  “About you fucking your married teacher?” I ask nonchalantly, enjoying the way he blanches. “What about it?”

  He places his hands on either side of the chairback, leaning forward until he’s caging me in. The hard planes of his chest brush against my pebbled nipples as I meet his glare with a defiant one of my own. I refuse to let him scare me. Fucking refuse.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he seethes. “That’s a pretty serious accusation, baby.”

  “Huh?” I feign confusion, tapping a finger to my chin in mock contemplation. “So the video I have is of a different redheaded teacher sucking your cock? Hmmm. Interesting.”

  His eyes flare brightly, golden sparks interspersed in the rich mahogany brown.

  “How the fuck…?”

  “I’m a creepy freak, remember?” I say with a teasing grin. Maintaining eye contact, I press the tips of my fingers to the side of his cheek and slowly, almost seductively, trail them down to his neck. His eyes close as if he’s in physical pain, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but he doesn’t pull away from my tantalizing touch.

  “You don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he breathes at last, and out of my peripheral vision, I can see goosebumps dotting his muscular arms.

  “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” I murmur as his eyelids flutter open, his eyes spearing me to the chair.

  “Did you like it, baby?” His voice is husky, almost a growl, as I continue to rub my fingers up and down his face.

  “Like what?”

  “My cock,” he breathes out, his tongue snaking out to lick his lower lip. “Do you want a taste of my cock, baby? I can give it to you, if you want. All I need—”

  A breath of laughter escapes me before I can contain it, and I drop my fingers from his face. Another string of giggles follows as I clench my stomach, and Cassian pushes away with a huff.

  “Are you…ser-seriously…trying to…se-seduce me again?” I brush away a tear as laughter continues to reverberate through my body. “Your cock in exchange for the video? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  He straightens to his full, impressive height, nearly a full foot taller than me, and scowls, looking every inch the dark, seductive prince.

  “You can’t show anyone that video,” he says seriously.

  “Why? Because you won’t be able to sneak around with your perverted lover?” I ask, still trying to get my laughter under control.

  Cassian shakes his head vehemently as tension causes his shoulders to tighten. “No, I don’t give a fuck about that. Peony, please. You can’t show anyone that video.”

  “Didn’t I say the same thing in middle school when you guys posted the video of my first kiss with Elias?” I query thoughtfully.

  “Peony…”

  I jump to my feet and tilt my head up until I can see into his damning eyes—the eyes of a demon. Not the devil—that spot is reserved for Lucas—but one of his evil minions content to destroy the world and everyone in it.

  “You made your own bed, Cassian. I’m just helping you lie in it.”

  His eyes harden into chips of obsidian as something undefinable flashes across his face.

  “You’re different, aren’t you?” he muses. “You’re no longer that scared girl anymore.”

  Anger hardens my features and my heart. “You killed that scared little girl,” I retort venomously. “And this is what you’re left with.”

  For a brief, brief moment, I swear I see pain and something akin to regret flicker in his eyes. But it’s there and gone before I can know for certain.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he warns as his hands clench into fists at his sides.

  “I know exactly what I’m doing,” I purr as I place my hands on both of his shoulders and slowly slide them down his bare arms. Once more, he doesn’t push me away, but his eyes remain as cold as ice. “Now, go find your actual ‘baby’ and leave me the fuck alone.”

  “No can do, baby,” he mocks, reaching down to open his guitar case. “All of the other practice rooms are full, and I need to work on this piece.”

  “This room’s full, too,” I hiss through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to deck him over the head. He merely smiles, flashing those blindingly white teeth in my direction, as he grabs his guitar and begins to pluck absently at the strings, moving to return to the chair he pulled up.

  “I always thought we could make pretty music together, baby,” he confesses, and I can’t tell if he’s mocking me or not. Probably, because he’s calling me “baby” again, the fucker. I hate that endearment, and if his smug smile is any indication, he knows it. Which only means he’ll use it more often.

  For a long moment, I simply stare at him in silence as he focuses on the strings of his guitar, tuning the instrument. My eyes track his long, slender fingers as they twist the knobs and then strum the strings. “But that instrument you have there is a piece of shit. Is that a chip I see in your violin?”

  “You’re such a jackass.” With a huff, I throw myself back into my chair, prepared to ignore him the entire hour. Or else I just might be liable to kill him. Why does he have to infiltrate my life like an annoying gnat that won’t go away no matter how many times you swat at it? Why does he insist on staying and annoying the shit out of me? The answer’s simple—he’s a sadist.

  “I have a nice ass,” he corrects immediately. “Super hard. Could bounce a penny off of it. Actually…” He puts down his guitar, stands, and then reaches into all of his pockets until he procures a penny. “Throw it at me.” He then proceeds to stick his ass out at me and shake it.

  “I’ll ram it up your asshole,” I threaten, but my eyes are automatically drawn to those granite cheeks, emphasized by the tight jeans he wears.

  “Wow, baby. How’d you know I like anal play?” He whirls towards me, one hand over his mouth in mock horror.

  I bite down hard enough on my lower lip to draw blood as I bring the violin back to my chin.

  But I can’t. Fucking.
Play.

  Not with him watching me.

  Not with those golden-brown orbs traveling across my body as if he wishes to undress me and fuck me over the top of my music stand.

  Kinky motherfucker.

  “You gonna play or just sit there looking murdery?” Cassian quips.

  “I prefer the term ‘stabby,’ as in, ‘I’m mentally planning to stab you a thousand times,’” I quip, my dry sense of humor making an impromptu appearance.

  His damn smirk remains in place. “If it’s a knife up my bumhole…”

  “Oh my god. You’re ridiculous!” I throw my hands up in the air, one still holding the neck of the violin and the other the bow.

  “I’m an insatiable asshole,” he admits with a shameless shrug. “Literally. I’m insatiable…about having stuff in my ass.”

  I physically bang my head against the music stand.

  “I’m going to pretend you don’t exist for a few minutes, okay?” I snap, bringing my violin up to my chin for the billionth fucking time.

  But before I can continue the piece I’ve been practicing, Cassian begins to play. Only my eyes move to watch him, hypnotized.

  His fingers slide across the strings as he lowers his head, eyes fluttering shut. For the first time, there’s no mocking mirth in his eyes. No wickedly sinful smile pulling up his lush lips. He looks…vulnerable. Sincere. The harsh planes of his face appear softer, if that’s even possible.

  I recognize the song as “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen. It’s one of my favorites to play on the violin, one that I don’t even need sheet music to play.

  As if my hand is being moved by some unseen force, I lower the bow to my instrument and begin to play the melody. I allow the music to rush through me as the familiar notes fill the air. Cassian immediately switches to the harmony, our notes joining together to create the most beautiful masterpiece I’ve ever heard.

  I want to hate the music we make together, I honestly do, but I find myself lost in the mesmerizing combination. My violin’s high-pitched notes juxtaposed by his low ones.