Envy (The Damning Book 2)

by Katie May

  pervasive scent of old books - a heady mixture of dust and mold.

  Still, the library was my sanctuary. My escape. In the shelves, with

  sunlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows, I felt like I was

  home.

  I perched myself on the wooden bench of one of the tables, a stack of

  books piled high. The librarian had been quite helpful when I had inquired

  about ancient texts and mythological studies. After a moment of careful

  perusal, she handed me a stack the size of my arm. Throughout the day, she

  had repeatedly added to the pile.

  My eyelids drooped heavily, fatigue and hunger dominating me. Still, I

  charged on, my eyes rapidly moving over the faded text.

  "You need a break," a soft, familiar voice said from behind me.

  Electricity coursed through my veins at her presence. Her distinct scent of

  pomegranates wafted to my nose, and I inhaled deeply. I would never admit

  to anyone my obsession with her smell, least of all to her. She would think I

  was weird - or, at the very least, weirder than she already perceived me as.

  Still, I couldn't help but inhale deeply as she ventured forward.

  "No break," I muttered gruffly, focusing back on my latest text. It was an

  old mythological book, written before the Seven Deadly Sins appeared on

  Earth, that detailed the supposed supernatural creatures on the Earth. Of

  course, everything was merely a theory. Humans hadn't known about the

  supernatural world at the time this was written.

  Z was silent, and I was afraid she had left.

  A moment later, a small hand rested on my shoulder followed by a

  steaming bowl of soup. I glanced at her in surprise...and more than a little bit

  of disbelief. I couldn't remember the last time someone had taken care of me.

  My mother had died when I was a child, and my father hadn't been the

  nurturing type of parent.

  "Eat," she said stiffly, crossing her arms over her chest. I noticed that she

  was no longer wearing those frilly, silk dresses she had been forced into

  when posing as Zara. Instead, she wore black pants and a tight, black shirt.

  Her blond curls were pulled back into a high ponytail.

  Though I loved how she looked in dresses, I preferred her in pants. It was

  obviously what she was most comfortable wearing, and the pants accentuated

  the muscles in her legs. Those damn, perfect legs...

  With a murmured thanks, I blew on the soup before swallowing a bite. It

  was delicious, the creamy broth heightening the flavor of the chicken and

  vegetables. Who knew Z could cook?

  She must've read something on my face, for she laughed. It wasn't a

  giggle - I wasn't sure if Z knew how to do something as dainty as that - but a

  full on belly laugh. Tears welled in her eyes, but she brushed them away.

  "God, no. I didn't make that. Devlin did. I don't fucking cook."

  Smirking, I took another sip of soup. Now that I was looking for it, I

  could clearly tell this was a masterpiece created by my Genie brother. He had

  a certain fascination with cooking. As he said, it was a way to create, not

  destroy. He also preferred spices over bland favors.

  Z sat beside me, eyes carefully roaming over the various books.

  "What have you found?" she asked, grabbing one. She held the book with

  reverence, fingers flipping through the pages with a touch as light as a moth's

  wing. It was a book about underwater creatures. Sirens, Water Fairies, and

  the most dangerous, Krakens.

  I watched her work, mesmerized, before I cleared my throat.

  "The Fae creatures were descended from one of the lesser known demons.

  They had an affinity for nature and tended to live in forests and fields." My

  finger moved over the words I had already memorized. "Jax was right. They

  do live in trees. Or flowers. Or grass."

  "And they're extinct, correct?" Z asked, head bent over her own book. A

  strand of blond hair escaped its ponytail, and I had the irresistible urge to

  brush it behind her ear. I had to physically clench my hand into a fist to keep

  from touching her.

  "Yes," I agreed. "All of my research is consistent with that fact. They

  became extinct hundreds of years ago when my ancestors first arrived."

  Z nodded, brow creased. She appeared to be deep in thought.

  Sitting in the library, that adorable crinkle between her brows, and a book

  in her hands, I had never seen anyone more sexy before.

  "So how is it possible?" she blurted out at last. Finally, she turned to face

  me, and I was momentarily lost in her eyes. I wanted to reach out and touch

  her, trace those high cheekbones and those abnormally long lashes. Curve my

  hand around her neck and pull her towards me.

  "How is what possible?" I asked stupidly. She smirked, no doubt knowing

  the direction of my thoughts.

  "How can an extinct supernatural creature come back from the dead?" she

  spelled out to me. “Unless..." Her finger tapped the bottom of her chin.

  "Unless they were never truly extinct. Maybe they had somehow survived,

  living in hiding."

  Even before she had finished speaking, I was already shaking my head.

  "That's impossible, my love." The endearment slipped out before I could

  reel it in, and I watched as she grimaced. I tried to ignore the brief stab of

  pain spearing my chest at that, but it felt like someone had rammed a burning

  iron rod straight through my heart. Clearing my throat, I continued before she

  could notice. "The Seven Sins made sure of it."

  I pointed towards another book, this one detailing the plague.

  The plague that had killed all the other creatures, all the other demons. A

  plague created by the one of the four Horsemen himself.

  Her lips pursed as she read the words I knew by heart. When the plague

  had struck, it had killed millions instantly. There was no warning. One

  second they were alive, and the next, they were dead. Humans, at the time,

  blamed it on a medical ailment brought about by mosquitos. It would take

  only a few years until they learned the truth.

  "So this Fae shouldn't have been alive," she deduced, and I nodded in

  confirmation.

  "It's quite literally impossible," I answered.

  For a moment, we were both silent, the only sound the occasional crinkle

  of paper or heavy volume landing on the desk. Z worked diligently beside

  me, scanning the words and making notes on a sheet of paper

  I, too, attempted to work, but I couldn't help but focus on her. In my

  element, she was glorious.

  "What?" she asked sharply, glancing up. My face burned when I realized

  I had been staring at her. "Why do you keep looking at me?"

  "Because you're beautiful," I answered immediately. Unashamedly. When

  I was old enough to understand what mates meant, I made a vow to myself

  that I would constantly shower my own with love and affection. I saw what

  happened when there was no love between mates. And, on the opposite

  spectrum, I saw what happened when there was too much. My father was a

  prime example of the latter.

  All I had ever wanted was to meet my mate, to fall in love and have her

  love me back unconditionally. I wanted to treat her like a queen, my queen.

  At my co
nfession, her own head ducked down sheepishly, the tips of her

  ears burning. She mumbled something unintelligible beneath her breath.

  "You don't like compliments," I noted, somewhat amusedly. At that, her

  head snapped up, and she glared.

  "I don't mind them," she stressed. "I just...they make me feel

  uncomfortable."

  "Didn't Devlin or S compliment you when you guys were together?" I

  asked, quirking a brow. The flush burning her cheeks was answer enough.

  "They didn't, did they? I'm going to have to talk to Devlin about the proper

  ways to woo a lady."

  At that, a smile cracked through her icy exterior. It was there and gone,

  the briefest flash of white teeth, before I could comment on it.

  "As you probably already noticed, Lupe, I am anything but a lady."

  I waved a hand dismissively. "So you like to stab people and kill things.

  Why does that make you less than a proper lady? You deserve to be lavished

  with attention and gifts and crowns."

  "Crowns?" One side of her lip curved upwards in a crooked smile. I

  wanted to see her smile more often. Everyday, if I had my choice. She was

  stunning normally, but when she smiled, she was positively ethereal.

  I had once tried to draw her, but even my artist's hand failed to recreate

  everything that was Z.

  "Crowns," I said with a decisive head bob. "Because you're a queen."

  A laugh, unbidden, escaped her, and she brought a hand to her mouth to

  muffle the sound.

  Well that wouldn't do...

  Taking her small, dainty hand in my own, I marveled at how little she

  was compared to me. Her pale hand was entirely engulfed by my own darker

  one. I wondered how she would feel lying in bed, her body against my own

  and her head in the crook of my neck.

  "You need to do that more often," I murmured, tracing patterns on her

  palm. She shivered delicately, and I resisted the urge to grin like a fool at the

  effect I had on her.

  "Do what?" she asked.

  "Laugh."

  I was afraid she would run away, that I had pushed her too hard, but

  instead, she tilted her head to the side curiously. I could feel her eyes grazing

  my face, but I focused instead on the veins running through her wrist.

  "And you need to get out of this library more often," she reasoned. I

  shrugged a broad shoulder. In a flash, she had jumped to her feet, hand still

  woven with mine. I glanced at her curiously, but allowed her to pull me up.

  "Where are we going?" I asked, my feet moving on their own accord. But

  damn, if I wouldn't follow her anywhere and everywhere, even off a bridge.

  "You need a break," she insisted. We reached the large double doors of

  the library, and she shoved them open without preamble. "And I, apparently,

  need to smile and laugh more. Did I get that right?"

  She didn't sound mad at my assessment of her. Still, my cheeks burned,

  and I muttered something beneath my breath.

  "HH and T are searching the various safe houses for survivors," she said,

  still pulling me along. "They should get back to me in about a day. If I'm

  even still here." Her lip curled. "Heaven only knows when the Mermaid King

  Asshole Extraordinaire will call me for the next fucking game."

  "I like that nickname," I mused. "It's fitting."

  Again, she gifted me with that laugh/snort mixture I found so attractive.

  "In the meantime..." She trailed off, stopping in front of her desired

  location. Releasing my hand, she pushed the door open, and I followed after

  her, gaping at my surroundings. "We're going to have some fun."

  EIGHT

  Z

  L upe eyed me as if I was a poisonous scorpion preparing to strike. I

  wanted to laugh at the disbelief in his expression, but I managed to

  hold it in.

  "This is your idea of fun?" he asked in disdain.

  I had found this gem when I was exploring the Capital - after The

  Damning had ended and I couldn't stand to be in the same room with any of

  my mates. According to one of the servants roaming these halls, the room had

  once served as a training facility for cadets and other governmental agents.

  When the training center got relocated, nobody had bothered to clean up the

  room.

  A large, wooden obstacle course sat in the very center over a collection of

  blue mats. Chipped white paint added color to the dreary structure and

  battered wood. To start the course, there was a gray rock climbing wall

  stopping seven feet above the ground. That led to monkey bars and a simple

  wooden block the participants had to climb or jump over. From there, you

  had to army crawl beneath barbed wire to a rope swing. The rope swing led

  to tires you had to crawl through until finally, you reached the finish line.

  Lupe's wide eyes surveyed the room.

  "Super fun," I quipped, walking to the beginning of the course. Lupe,

  with great reluctance, followed me.

  He mimicked my stretching, large muscles bulging beneath his shirt. He

  was not dressed for this type of excursion - wearing a long sleeved thermal

  sweater and jeans - but he didn't complain.

  I grabbed my elbow over my head and nearly laughed when he did as

  well.

  "Stop it," he said, eyes glinting with amusement.

  "Stop what?" I asked innocently.

  "I know you want to laugh." He poked a finger into my side, and I

  swatted his big hand away.

  "Do not," I protested half-heartedly. "That would be horrible. I would

  never laugh at you."

  When he merely raised a brow, eyes narrowing, I couldn't keep my

  laughter in check. Clutching my stomach, I keeled over.

  "Okay, okay, but you have to admit that it's funny," I snorted, wiping a

  stray tear away. "You're like this big ass man with more muscles in your

  pinkie finger than I have in my body, and you hate exercising. It's funny."

  His lip quirked upwards.

  "I love that sound," he said seriously, and my laughter dissipated.

  "What? Me teasing you?" I asked, though I already knew his answer.

  Why did it feel so weird to laugh with him? To smile? Why did it feel

  like I was disrespecting Diego's memory? I knew it was irrational, but the

  thought remained, hounding me. A barrage of assaults against my mind and

  heart.

  It felt wrong to be happy when he was dead. When my parents were dead.

  When S, my first love, was dead.

  And I hated it.

  I didn't know if I hated my self-loathing, my inability to hold onto

  happiness, or the fact that I was happy in the first place. My stomach was a

  tumultuous mixture of grief and confusion. I knew that it would be nearly

  impossible to get my emotions pacified.

  "I get it," Lupe said suddenly. His face brightened like a lightbulb

  glowing beneath the surface. I resisted the urge to squirm uncomfortably at

  his knowing, all-seeing stare. "You don't think you deserve to be happy."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," I snarked feeling abnormally

  vulnerable. In a matter of seconds, Lupe had stripped me bare, revealing all

  the broken and twisted parts of me to his inquisitive eyes. Was this what

  having mates meant? Would I always feel like that?

  I didn't know
if I loved it or hated it.

  Loved him or hated him.

  "I think you do." One of his big hands captured mine. "You're still

  grieving Diego and even Mali. You miss S and your parents. Hell, you even

  miss the simplicity of your relationship with Devlin. I get it. I do. This all

  happened so suddenly, and you don't know up from down. Z, I see you. I

  understand."

  I wrenched my hands free from his, trembling. "I don't want you to

  fucking see me. I don't want anyone to see me. Don't you get that? Don't you

  understand? I never asked to be your mate, and I already suck at it."

  "Z..." he whispered helplessly. I knew he was going to try to reassure me,

  tell me that I was a perfect mate, that I was deserving of his love, regardless

  that it would be falling on willfully deaf ears. "You're right."

  "I'm right?" I asked, raising a brow.

  Well...that wasn't what I expected.

  "You don't know how to be in a relationship, and you sure as hell don't

  know how to love someone."

  His words stung, slamming into me with the force of a Mage's spell. I

  physically staggered back a step.

  "Gee, thanks," I said dryly, turning away. I refused to let him see that his

  words had hurt me.

  "Z, just listen for a damn minute!" he snapped, and I paused, my back to

  him. I could hear his heavy breathing accompanied by loud footsteps. In a

  matter of seconds, he was directly behind me, the heat from his body

  warming my own. "You talk too much."

  "Some people say it's part of my charm," I deadpanned.

  Ignoring me, he placed a large, callused hand on my waist. I always

  wondered what he did to cause such calluses and peeled blisters. From what I

  gathered and knew of him, he spent very little time outside of the library.

  "None of us know what it's like to have a mate. To be in a relationship.

  Do you think I know? Do you think any of us know? Devlin fucked it up the

  first time. Killian hadn't been able to last more than five minutes alone in a

  room with a girl before blurting out anatomy parts. Bash has had more lovers

  than I could ever count." I stiffened at the last statement, the ugly green

  monster coming out to play with a vengeance. The last thing I wanted to

  think about was my mate with another female.

  Especially Bash, which surprised me.

  I hated him, but at the same time, I sort of liked him. Maybe. Just a