Charming Devils: A Bully/Revenge Reverse Harem Romance

by Katie May

  “Bippity, boppity, boo,” she singsongs before tossing me a dark green gown with a lacy trim. It’s long-sleeved, like everything else I own, and has a sheer top that cinches at the waist before cascading outwards, ending just at my knee. It’s sexy and stylish and fun…but it’s also perfectly suitable for a party. It’ll look great with my white blonde hair.

  “I’ll go find you some shoes,” she says, referring to the ones sitting on a shelf in the entryway that she no doubt noticed when she arrived. “Get changed.”

  She ducks out before I can even thank her, and I take a moment to run my hand over the soft material. I wore this dress only once before, back at the coven for the Halloween Solstice. I attended with Uriel, and it was one of the best nights of my life. Drinking, dancing, and receiving the powers from the Earth as it coursed through my body like waves of electricity.

  The Halloween Solstice represents new beginnings—a time when the Earth’s magic replenishes itself. It’s only fitting that I wear it now. Maybe, just maybe, this date with Emmett is my new beginning.

  I strip out of my normal clothes and step into the dress, tugging it up my hips. Before I can finish putting it fully on, the door to the bathroom flies open, and an oblivious Mariabella enters, dangling two pairs of shoes from both hands.

  “This one will definitely add a few inches of height, but I’m not sure how comfortable they are. And these are—” She pauses when she catches sight of me, eyes roaming across my body before resting on my bare arms. Her face turns stark white, and the shoes clatter to the floor, forgotten. “Peony!” she gasps as she rushes forward, tenderly grabbing my wrist and straightening my arm.

  I’m rooted to the spot. I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t even see. My heart feels heavy in my chest, like it weighs a million pounds, and my legs shake like they’re nothing but noodles. I start to fall forward but quickly catch myself by placing my hand on the granite countertop. Mariabella is speaking, but her words enter one ear and then leave the other. It’s almost as if my head is made up of nothing but air, and the words hang suspended there, impossible for me to fully catch.

  She saw.

  She saw something that no one has ever seen before. Something that I don’t want anyone to see. It’s twisted and fucked up, but it’s also mine. My demons and my pain. My internal suffering made flesh.

  Slowly, distantly, sounds return to me. It feels as if I’m underwater, hearing muted conversations on the surface but unable to join in. Water rushes through my ears, the sound shattering my eardrums, as I finally orient myself to the here and now.

  “What the fuck happened? Peony, I can’t… What happened? I just…huh?” Mariabella is saying, her words rushing together in her distress. She’s staring intently at my pale arm, at the physical manifestation of my emotional pain. Marring the porcelain skin are deep, jagged scars. Hundreds of them. Some are barely the width of a string, but others are large, as if someone has taken a knife and gorged out the skin. They extend from the inside of my wrist to my elbow, each one telling a different story.

  “It’s fine.” I try to sound dismissive, even happy, but Mariabella’s fierce expressions stop me in place.

  “It’s not fucking fine,” she rages, glaring at the offending scars. She swallows heavily. “Did you…did you do this to yourself?”

  I want to lie—but what lie could I give her, anyway? She’s already seen how broken I truly am.

  “Don’t worry,” I reassure her, removing my arm from her steel grip and pulling the green dress the rest of the way up. I give her my back so she can zip it up, and I’m shocked to feel her fingers trembling. “They’re from middle school.”

  “Peony,” she gasps. And when I turn back towards her, tears run down her cheeks. “What happened?”

  I can feel myself start to break as well, start to crumble into dust. She’s ripping open my meticulous packaging, pulling at the pretty ribbons securing me in one piece, and then watching as I come apart around her, revealing a box full of shattered glass. There’s nothing beautiful about something capable of cutting you open. The wrapping serves as an illusion designed to deceive and entice, but the inside? That’s where you see how ugly someone truly is.

  And I’m the ugliest monster of them all.

  A single tear travels down my cheek, followed immediately by a second one. And then, I’m sobbing, gasping for breath, ruining the makeup she painstakingly applied.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” I say as she stares at me in disbelief and pain. So much pain. It’s almost as if my grief has become a palpable entity that she can feel herself. “You don’t remember me from middle school.”

  “Middle school?” Her nose crinkles as she stares at me, and then I see it. I see the moment when understanding dawns, and what little color remains on her face disappears completely. She staggers back a step as if she’s been struck, shaking her head from side to side slowly in disbelief. “No. It can’t be…”

  “We never really talked,” I confess in a choked voice, those damn, wayward tears continuing to leave red, blotchy marks on my face.

  Horror has her clutching the towel rack, as if her legs are seconds from giving out. “Karsyn…”

  And I can see that she knows. She may not have ever talked to me, but she remembers the poor, broken girl teased and bullied mercilessly by the Devils. By her boyfriend. And I can see the pieces clicking together in her mind as she stares at my arms, now hidden by the dress sleeves.

  She races towards the toilet, barely getting it open before she throws up. She’s crying in earnest now as her hands clench the bowl.

  “I am so, so sorry,” she sobs, dry-heaving. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know it was that bad.”

  I take a step towards her, and she flinches away.

  “I don’t blame you or anyone other than them,” I whisper, grabbing a towel from the rack and scrubbing at my face. I’m going to have to go sans makeup for my date, but I can’t find it within me to care.

  “But we were there,” she screams. “We saw what they were doing, and we just let it happen.” She climbs to her feet jerkily, eyes wide with panic. “I swear to you that if I knew it was that bad, I would’ve stopped it. I was just a dumb fucking kid who didn’t want to get on the popular boys’ radar. Besides, I just assumed it was because they had a crush on you. I didn’t even think…” She trails off with another choked sob. “I’m so sorry, Peony. For everything.”

  “I know you are,” I whisper. I can see the sincerity emanating from her red-rimmed eyes. Can hear it in every breath she takes. I never blamed Mariabella—any of my other classmates—for the actions and sins of the Devils. I never condemned them to hell the way I did my tormentors. I don’t know if I would’ve done things differently if our situations were reversed. I would like to believe I would’ve stepped in, but the truth is? I can’t say for certain. Maybe my fear would’ve prohibited me from doing so. Fear is a funny thing, but so is ignorance. I don’t know which one makes you more culpable.

  “I’ll make this right, Peony,” Mariabella vows, eyes shining with an unspoken vow.

  I take her hands in both of mine and give them a reassuring squeeze. “I know you will.” I brush at my face with the back of my hand, clearing away the last few drops of tears. “Now, can you please fix this?” I gesture desperately to my red and blotchy face, and Mariabella releases a slightly hysterical laugh. “I need to look semi-good for my date.”

  Emmett arrives right at six o’clock, a bouquet of flowers in his hands as he stands on the front porch. I have to admit he looks handsome today with his blond hair slicked back and his dimples on display. I wait for the sparks to buzz through my body. For the grasshoppers to start jumping around in my stomach.

  But I feel nothing.

  “Wow.” Emmett’s eyes rove up and down my body appreciatively as he hands me the flowers, which I immediately set in a small vase sitting on the entry table. “You look beautiful.”

  “And you don’t look too bad yo
urself,” I tease, nodding at his simple ensemble of a stretched blue-collared shirt and dark jeans.

  “Not too bad!” Emmett brings a hand to chest. “I look sexy as fuck.”

  I roll my eyes as I step out of the house, shutting the door behind me. Mariabella left only a few minutes ago, claiming cryptically that she had something she needed to do. I didn’t press her on it, and I promised to call her as soon as I got home. It’s nice to have a female friend I can talk to and discuss things with.

  And despite my early trepidation, it’s a weight off my chest to have her know the truth about me and the Devils. It makes me feel as if I’m not so alone anymore. As if the world isn’t resting on my shoulders, crushing me.

  Emmett and I continue our light banter as we pile into his car and he drives us to the restaurant.

  He takes us to a quaint Italian restaurant located just off the main highway, one town over. The lights are dim when we enter, and all of the staff are meticulously groomed in black pants, black dress shirts, and clashing white aprons. The aroma of baked bread permeates the air as the hostess leads us to a table near the back of the restaurant, directly beneath a low-hanging chandelier. A single candle rests on the center of the table, casting Emmett’s boyish face in shadows.

  I feel the familiar tendrils of first date nerves jolt through me as I stare at the handsome man before me.

  “You really do look beautiful today,” Emmett says softly. “You look…powerful.”

  A blush rises to my cheeks, and I duck my head to survey the menu options. Deciding on ravioli, I close the menu and wait for Emmett to look up as well.

  “So, how do you know Jessica?” I inquire while we wait for someone to take our drink orders.

  “The girl who’s throwing the party?” Emmett asks for clarification. When I nod, he shrugs his broad shoulders and relaxes back in his seat, steepling his fingers together on his chest. “Don’t. I heard about the party from some guys on the football team.”

  “You mentioned before that you moved here. Where did you—”

  “What the fuck?” Emmett exclaims suddenly, cutting me off mid-sentence. It’s then I hear a familiar, scathing voice from directly behind me.

  “Thank you. The lighting over at this table is significantly better.” I watch in abject horror as Lucas slides the hostess a crisp one hundred dollar bill before sitting at the table directly beside ours. Cassian, Elias, and Karsyn join him.

  What the fuckity fuck?

  Why are they here?

  Why are they together?

  They’re not even friends anymore, dammit! They hate each other. I can practically taste the animosity saturating the air.

  Emmett narrows his eyes at the four Devils while I just gape wordlessly.

  “What are you guys doing here?” Emmett demands through clenched teeth.

  Lucas smiles darkly.

  “Can’t we enjoy a nice meal before the party tonight?”

  “Y-You guys…don’t talk!” I manage to stutter out, pointing wildly between the four of them.

  “And this is a date restaurant,” Emmett adds.

  “Are you saying we can’t be on a date?” Cassian throws his head back in raucous laughter before tossing an arm around the back of Karsyn’s seat. If Cassian is here, if he’s laughing, it means that he hasn’t heard about what I did. Yet. “Come here, baby, and give me a kiss.”

  Karsyn makes a face. “I’d rather cut off my balls.”

  “Or let me suck them. Don’t play hard to get,” Cassian teases.

  Karsyn releases a disgruntled huff. “Oh, all right. As long as you don’t use your teeth.”

  Lucas shakes his head at their antics, his expression utterly impassive, before turning to spear me in place with a single look.

  “Peony, I didn’t know I’d find you here.”

  “You did,” I say firmly, once I finally overcome my initial shock. “You heard Emmett ask me, and then you heard us finalize our plans.”

  “Did I?” His expression doesn’t change once. Not even a minuscule twitch of his lips.

  My hands tremble beneath the table as I glance from face to face. What exactly are they up to? What are they planning to do to me?

  “If you’ll excuse me…”

  Ignoring Emmett’s protests, I stomp away from the table and exit the restaurant. And then I don’t stop walking until I’m hidden in a connected alleyway, my back resting against the cold brick wall. I take deep, stuttered breaths as anger rampages through me.

  How dare they?

  How fucking dare they?

  “I told the guys I needed to take a piss,” a familiar voice says nonchalantly, a moment before he leans against the wall beside me. “I don’t think they believe me, but they were too busy glaring daggers at each other to stop me.”

  “Elias,” I say coolly.

  “Peony,” he replies back, but unlike me, there’s the slightest hint of amusement in his tone. He reaches into his leather jacket pocket and procures a box of cigarettes and then a lighter. He places one between his lips and then uses both hands to light it.

  “Isn’t that super stereotypical of you?” I deadpan as I stare at his face illuminated by the crackling orange fire. “The leather-jacket wearing, bad boy biker smoking?”

  He releases a rough guffaw.

  “And isn’t this stereotypical of you? Pretty girl hiding from her date because she knows she doesn’t belong to him.”

  “Fuck you, Elias,” I hiss. “You’re such an asshole.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. “I’m a lot of things. A nightmare, for one. A monster. I never said I was the good guy, and I don’t think I ever will.”

  “So you’re okay with walking through life acting like a massive dick?” I snap, folding my arms over my chest as a sudden gust of wind causes goosebumps to pebble on my legs.

  “I have a massive dick,” Elias teases as he unzips his leather jacket. Before I can protest, he drapes it over my shoulders, and I’m assaulted by his distinct scent of leather and grease, combined with something sweet from his cologne.

  “Why are you here?” I demand, trying to ignore the desperate urge I have to bury my nose into his jacket and inhale deeply. “And I know it’s not for the breadsticks.”

  “The breadsticks are good, but no. That’s not why we’re here.” His eyes bore into mine, but he doesn’t bother to answer my question. Fucking prick.

  “I see that the old gang is back together again,” I say curtly, and he simply nods his head once.

  “We are.”

  Silence descends as we stare at one another, the frigid wind battering against our cheeks.

  “Why are you guys back together again?” I hiss when it becomes too much. Then again, everything about these Devils is too fucking much.

  “The same reason we got together in the first place. The same reason we broke up.”

  My heart hammers in my chest, but I can’t figure out why. His eyes captivate me, making me incapable of speech.

  “I hope that reason isn’t me, Elias Briggs,” I say slowly, carefully, watching every shift in his expression. “Because I despise you and the rest of your so-called friends. You’re monsters, every last one of you.”

  He doesn’t even bother to deny it. “Maybe.” He holds his cigarette casually between two fingers. “But maybe that’s why we’re so fucking obsessed with you.”

  I don’t bother dignifying that with a response. Instead, I shove his jacket off of my shoulders, push past his muscular body, and storm back into the restaurant. It doesn’t appear as if the other four men have even blinked since I left, all engaged in a fierce stare off.

  Well, all of them except for Cassian, who has cut a hole into a breadstick and is using a second one to fuck the first. When he sees me looking, he smirks dangerously and brings the bread to his mouth, running his tongue over the top before swallowing it whole.

  I quickly look away, focusing instead on my date for the evening.

  “
How about we skip dinner and head straight for the party?” I suggest, keeping my back to the Devils.

  “And maybe get dessert after?” Emmett questions with a glint in his eyes that speaks louder than words. There’s no missing the sexual innuendo.

  Instead of answering him, I merely take his hand in mine—allowing my fingers to trail over his before grasping firmly—and pull him out of the restaurant, leaving behind the infuriated Devils.

  Chapter 26

  Jessica Simmon’s house is nearly as large as Mariabella’s, a huge, faux-Italian villa with a circular driveway displaying a marble fountain, wrought iron gates, multiple balconies, and potted plants dotting the walkway.

  We’re forced to park on the street in front of the house, Emmett’s tiny car barely able to squeeze between two trucks.

  As we begin to climb up the steep driveway, the lawns on either side already crowded with cars and drunk teenagers, Emmett reaches coyly towards me and interlocks his fingers with mine.

  I turn to him in surprise, cheeks flaming, but allow him to take my hand and pull me the rest of the way to the house.

  My mind keeps circling back to the Devils. Why did they show up? What did they want? Obviously, this is part of their grand plan or whatever, but I have no fucking idea what that plan is. I’m going to drive myself crazy in my quest for answers, I just fucking know it.

  Still, I try to focus only on Emmett’s hand in mine as we enter Jessica’s house.

  If I thought the exterior was massive, the inside puts it to shame. Flood lights hang from the ceiling, each one with a different colored piece of paper taped overhead. The combination is a rainbow of light illuminating the makeshift dance floor, which is nothing more than a bunch of couches pushed to the edges of the room.

  The kitchen is to the right of the entrance, and it’s there Emmett leads me first, his hand leaving mine and drifting to the small of my back. He leans closer until his hot breath wafts across my earlobe.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he asks, raising his voice to be heard over the roar of the music. At my nod, he gives my hip a squeeze before detangling himself and moving towards the keg manned by one of his football teammates.