Envy (The Damning Book 2)

by Katie May

  Why did the thought of him dreaming of me fill me with both dread and

  excitement?

  Unable to answer that, I settled on stroking his hair.

  Being with Devlin...it had once felt like coming home after trekking

  through an atrocious snowstorm. The wind howling, the snow assaulting my

  face, the water seeping through the legs of my pants. Once I entered the

  house, warmth emanated from the lit fire and the smell of baked cookies

  wafted from the oven, the smell pervasive. It was the feeling of wrapping

  your favorite blanket around your shoulders to curb the frigid air. Home. He

  had felt like home.

  Now? That home had cracks that brought in the snow, and the fire had

  long since turned to embers.

  “Z?” a tired voice whispered

  It took me a moment to realize that Devlin wasn’t just sleepily mumbling

  my name. He opened one eye lazily, a content smile fluttering on his face.

  Before I could say something - perhaps explain why I was sitting there

  staring at him like a stalker - he reached a hand out and pulled me towards

  him. My body bounced against his hard, muscular one, and I tensed

  instinctively.

  I didn’t...cuddle.

  But I also couldn’t deny that being in his arms felt right.

  “When did you get up?” he whispered, nuzzling my hair with his nose. I

  heard him inhale deeply, breathing in my scent. I prayed that I didn’t stink

  of...well...blood. Or whatever else assassins would stink of.

  “Um...just a little bit ago?”

  Was this the new pillow talk?

  “Liar,” Devlin said suddenly, catching me off guard. When I merely tilted

  my head up to stare at him, blinking rapidly, he grinned down at me. “You

  have a tell, my love. You stiffen.”

  “I stiffen?” I asked in disbelief. I catalogued my body, somewhat pissed

  when I noticed that my limbs were abnormally tight. “That’s probably

  because you pulled me on top of you,” I deflected.

  He snorted, hand coming down to brush at my thighs. Now, my body

  stiffened for an entirely different reason. Damn feminine hormones. And

  damn him for having a magic hand. I had lived on only my hand for a year,

  thank you very much, and the last thing I needed-

  I gasped as his fingers fluttered against the seams of my pants, directly

  over my core.

  “Where were you?” he repeated. “Were you with one of the others?”

  He didn’t sound jealous talking about my six other mates, his brothers in

  every way but blood, though I imagined it couldn’t have been easy for him.

  He had me all to himself once upon a time, and now…

  I knew I would go quite stabby if he had six other lovers.

  Nope. Not going there.

  Bitches would be stabbed.

  Painfully.

  In the boob.

  “What are you thinking about now?” he asked. He pressed his lips to the

  crown of my head before moving lower, across my cheekbone, and finally

  resting on my jaw. His scruff tickled my sensitive skin.

  “Boobs,” I answered honestly. At least that was one thing I could answer.

  He chuckled, the sound making my body tingle. Unlike his father’s, it was a

  genuine, amused laugh.

  “Should I be jealous?” he asked teasingly. Those damn lips of his rested

  on my earlobe, nibbling softly. The barest graze of teeth.

  “As long as you don’t think about boobs, we shouldn’t have a problem,” I

  said breathlessly. I blamed it on the jog I had never taken. Yup. That five

  mile non-existent run through the woods.

  “Is that so?”

  Devlin’s hand snaked upwards before resting on my heavy breast.

  Squeezing softly, he began to knead the mound, fingers tweaking my nipple

  through my thin shirt.

  “Yup.”

  Make that a ten mile jog.

  “Now are you going to tell me where you were...or who you were with?”

  His hand left my breast, and I practically cried out at the loss of contact.

  That cry turned into a gasp of pleasure when it crept under my shirt, beneath

  my bra, and touched my bare skin. His thumb rubbed back and forth over my

  aching, beaded nipple.

  As always with Devlin, I felt too much, too soon, too deeply. He made

  me feel as if I wasn’t broken but instead a work in progress.

  And I hated it.

  I hated the vulnerability he evoked from me. The love I inherently felt

  when I looked into his violet eyes. The way my defenses crumbled around

  me, piece by small piece, but still enough for him to slip through.

  “I met with your dad,” I blurted, and his hand froze on my breast.

  Yup. That did it.

  Ways to kill a mood: talk about asshole fathers.

  With great reluctance, his hand left me, and he flopped onto his back. I

  didn’t even have to see his face to know that he would be wearing his

  customary scowl heavy with disapproval.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “Because it wasn’t your business,” I retorted automatically, sitting up.

  “Wasn’t my...motherfucking...you are my business!” He propped himself

  onto his elbow to stare at me. Glare at me would be a better description.

  “I’m nobody’s business but my own,” I countered, sitting up on the bed.

  “I have been taking care of myself just fine for the last few years.”

  His eyes hardened, hand reaching out to twine his fingers through my

  own. I let him, knowing that he needed the contact.

  “You don’t have to face this alone anymore, my love. That’s what you

  have me for, and as much as I hate to admit it, that’s what you have the others

  for. We’re your mates. We’re designed-”

  “Blah. Blah. Blah.” I cut him off and untangled my hand from his,

  placing my fingers into my ears. Childish? Yes. Effective? Also, yes. When I

  was sure he had stopped spouting off nonsense, I removed my fingers and

  placed my hands on my hips. “The last thing I want is seven men who feel

  obligated to be with me. To take fucking care of me when I am more than

  capable of taking care of myself.”

  He opened his mouth to no doubt protest, but I cut him off with a wave of

  my hand.

  “Look at Bash, Lin! He can barely look at me, and he’s my mate! Look at

  Jax...he’s engaged to be fucking married!” Shaking my head, I stood from the

  bed and took a step backwards. And then another one. And another one. My

  back rested against the door, and I leaned heavily against it. I wanted nothing

  more than to escape. To leave and never look back.

  But I couldn’t.

  Because despite everything I claimed, the damn assholes each held a tiny

  sliver of my heart. I didn’t have a lot to offer, but what I did, they took.

  Greedily, if you asked me. Lapping it up like famished Vampires finding the

  Holy Grail of blood.

  It scared me.

  Absolutely terrified me. I had faced countless monsters, countless

  Nightmares, and never once had I felt this unhinged.

  When Devlin continued to stare at me, violet eyes warm with

  understanding, I just about exploded. I had the distinct feeling he could see

  me clearer than I could see myself.

  How much of that was real, and how much of th
at was the mate bond?

  I didn’t dare look too closely at that. I knew I wouldn’t like the answer,

  no matter the verdict.

  “I need to go...stab things.”

  “Z…” he trailed off helplessly, forking a hand through his brown curls.

  Before he could say something else, before he could completely unravel

  me, I hurried out the door. I had no destination in mind, only away. Away

  from him. Away from my feelings.

  Away.

  THREE

  KILLIAN

  Ihad never masturbated before. Honestly, there hadn’t been a need. As an

  Incubus who relied on pleasure, but had never been sexually attracted to

  a male or female, I was content with just sitting outside doors, listening

  to their sated moans, and pretending that I wasn’t a screw-up of a Nightmare.

  I wrapped my hands around my rock-hard cock, perching myself on the

  foot of the bed. I wasn’t even sure if it would work, if it would relieve the

  tension that was bordering that precarious line between pleasure and pain.

  Once you found your mate, the Incubus was only ever able to receive

  pleasure from said mate.

  And my said mate wanted nothing to do with me.

  I closed my eyes, envisioning her dewy, heart-shaped face. Those

  glorious golden tresses, untamed and wild. Just like her.

  Her eyes…

  It wasn’t even the color, but more so the expressions in them. She may

  have believed she had hidden herself away, but I could see her. I always saw

  her.

  And damn, if she wasn’t beautiful.

  I didn’t think it was possible to have your breath taken away. I had read

  about it in books, but I had laughed at how absurd that was.

  Yet, when she looked at me, I crumbled. With only a look, she had me on

  my knees.

  I palmed my balls before starting at the tip of my cock, using my pre-cum

  as lubrication. Steadily, I began to jack myself off. Sweat beaded on my

  forehead, and my breathing was uneven.

  Her breasts, bouncing with each breath she took. Those rose colored

  nipples just begging to be sucked. That pussy…

  Her taste…

  I worked myself into a frenzy, cussing up a storm as I reached that

  pinnacle. That peak. That clifftop before I crumpled over-

  “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” a voice yelled in horror. I

  jumped, removing my hand from my cock and turning to face the intruder.

  Bash stood in the doorway, a stunned and slightly disgusted expression

  on his face, before giving me his back.

  “For fuck’s sake, man!” he snapped.

  Cheeks flaming, I struggled to find something to clean myself up with.

  Seeing nothing, and not wanting to stand with my dick out a moment longer,

  I wiped it on the edge of my blanket before shoving it back into my pants.

  Still painfully hard.

  “...have to fucking bleach my eyes out,” he was muttering when I

  finished.

  Heat blossomed in my cheeks, embarrassment causing my stutter to come

  out in all its stutter glory. “Whattt dooo youu wanntttt?”

  “You dressed, asshole?” he asked, still refusing to look in my direction.

  I nodded before remembering he couldn’t see me.

  “Yeah.”

  He spun on his heel, jabbing a finger into the air as he spoke. “Rule

  number one for masturbation. You fucking close and lock the door. This

  wouldn’t have happened if you had done the damn sock rule.”

  “Sock rule?” I lifted a brow. Was I supposed to masturbate wearing

  socks? I couldn’t see how that would add to the experience, but I was a

  novice. There was still a lot I had to learn.

  “For the love of…” Bash gripped his hair, pulling at the strands. “Just

  don’t fucking masturbate with the door open, man, and don’t fucking scream

  her name!”

  Ah. That was the root of the issue.

  Bash was jealous.

  I tried to hide my smirk as his chest heaved and color rose to his cheeks.

  It wasn’t anger, not entirely, but an envy that ran soul deep.

  After all, I hadn’t been the one to reject our mate. I hadn’t run her away.

  I had been the one to taste her sweet nectar, feel her heavy mound in my

  hand, listen to her soft cries…

  “Fucking dammit!” Bash kicked at the door frame. “You’re thinking

  about it again! Fucking asshole. Dick. Vagina.” What his curses lacked in

  creativity, they made up for in gusto. “I can’t get her fucking body out of my

  mind! The way she looked when you went down on her. The fucking noises-”

  He cut off suddenly, as if aware of what he had unintentionally admitted

  to.

  I was a sexual creature by nature, and even I was shocked. Motherfucking

  Bash had watched. Bash. Of all people. The same man who spent most of his

  days having orgies because he hated sitting on the sidelines. He had watched,

  and if the heat in his eyes and the tent in his pants was any indication, he had

  gotten off on it.

  I didn’t know whether I wanted to blush or question him if I had done a

  good job. That would probably be weird. Right?

  Men did not ask other men if he did a good job sucking on the clit of the

  girl they had both mated with.

  “We’re not talking about that,” Bash said, for once not sounding smug

  and confident. I was not used to Bash being anything other than a drunk

  asshole.

  Blinking at him, I agreed, “Okay. Sure. Z’s orgasm is off the table for

  discussion. Got it. Not one word on her delicious taste. Or the feel of her

  nipple.”

  His eyes narrowed, and I blanched. What the hell had I said now?

  Smoothing his features, Bash entered my room fully and went to sit on

  the bed, grimaced, and then sat in the plush armchair. He kicked his feet up

  and rested his arms behind his head.

  “I talked to my father today, and he gave me some interesting information

  about our little assassin.”

  I squinted, wondering if I had heard him right.

  Bash hated his father. The only time he would ever willingly talk to him

  was if he was desperate. After what he had done...

  Anger burned briefly in my stomach before I smothered the flames.

  The Kings were assholes. It wasn’t just known but expected.

  If they didn’t do one asshole thing a moon cycle, I would question their

  sanity. And if it wasn’t practically psycho, I would assume they were having

  a good month.

  “What did he say?” I stuttered out, mentally cursing my disability.

  I hated my stutter, hated how less of a man it made me feel.

  Z noticed it, but she never made feel less for it. She reminded me

  repeatedly that my stutter was a part of me, a part she cared for, and shouldn’t

  be reprimanded.

  “Stop with the fucking dreamy smile and listen!” Bash snapped his

  fingers in front of my face. The asshole was especially moody today.

  Probably because he couldn’t get hard if his life depended on it.

  I smirked, glancing down at my own erect cock. Yup. Still got it.

  “For the love of…” Bash jumped from the chair and hit me on the back of

  the head. “Stop thinking about your damn dick.”

  Wincing, I lifted my gaze to him once more.


  “Sorry.”

  “Brothers…” a lilting, musical voice said from the doorway. Cloaked

  entirely in shadows, features inscrutable, Ryland glided through the door,

  taking residence in his usual corner of the room. “Did you hear the news?”

  “About Z?” Bash asked, quirking a brow. “I was just telling Killian.”

  I tapped my fingers against my thigh. I couldn’t deny that I was worried.

  Now that she was the official assassin of the kingdom, her life had only

  gotten worse. She would be forced to fight repeatedly and not just for her life,

  but for the lives of all the people she hated. The spell Bash’s dad placed on

  her assured that she would not only be loyal, but be compelled to do their

  bidding.

  “What’s going on?” I stuttered. My nerves always made my stutter more

  pronounced. And what was more nerve-wracking than hearing dire news

  about your mate?

  Ryland made a noise - as if he was about to speak - but was cut off by

  Bash’s grunt of impatience.

  “For fuck’s sake! Stop trying to steal my spotlight, and let me talk,

  dammit!”

  Even when we were kids, Bash was a drama queen. Nothing changed

  with age, so it seemed.

  Ryland chuckled softly from his usual stalker corner.

  “A test,” Bash blurted, as if afraid Ryland was going to try once more to

  take over this conversation.

  “A test?” I echoed.

  He nodded curtly. “One from each of the Kings, designed to prove her

  competence and loyalty to the kingdoms.” This was all said with a sardonic

  twist to his lips. He knew as well as I did that Z held no loyalty to those sick,

  sadistic bastards. Only the spell would stop her from killing every last one of

  them.

  My hands clenched into fists, knuckles whitening and veins protruding.

  What type of test would they put into place?

  This wasn’t a test to prove herself, not really. It was a test designed for

  her to fail.

  “She’s heading to the Mermaid Kingdom first,” Bash said with a pointed

  look.

  Cold sweat broke out on my skin.

  I had never been to the Mermaid Kingdom before, but I had heard

  rumors. They were wolves in sheep's clothing, monsters disguised as humans.

  They used their siren songs and ethereal good-looks to lure you in...before

  they killed you. The Mermaid Kingdom was cut-throat, each trying to get the

  upper hand on everyone else. Envy was funny in that respect.