Greed (The Damning Book 1)

by Katie May

  once more at Diego. I knew he was seeing more than just a dead body, but a

  person who had risked it all for his family. A person who wasn’t meant to die

  as early as he did. “Thank you.”

  My heart clenched.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

  EPILOGUE

  Z

  ONE WEEK LATER

  Istared at his sleeping face. He looked so peaceful like that. All of the

  stress and tension fell away in those brief moments when the sun had

  yet to emerge from behind the tree boughs. He didn’t like falling asleep.

  I knew that. He feared that I would leave him, leave them. He also feared that

  I would lose the battle against my own mind.

  He was right to be worried about me.

  Turning away from Devlin, I faced my bedroom mirror once again. My

  face was paler than I remembered it be, and dark circles marred the rims

  around my eyes. When was the last time I had slept? I couldn’t remember.

  Hell, when was the last time I had eaten? Devlin had been trying to get me to

  eat, and for the most part, I allowed him to believe it was working. He didn’t

  have to know that I threw up the majority of my food only hours later. He

  didn’t have to know that I was slowly killing myself as a way to feel

  something, anything, that wasn’t this depressing loneliness Diego’s absence

  had brought into my life.

  Grief had a way of strangling you until you craved the inevitable

  darkness. I grieved not only Diego, but also Mali. I had lost everyone I had

  ever cared about that day. My body was a mere carcass of what it once was.

  A shell, almost.

  I glanced down at the black tracksuit I had on, one that accentuated my

  breasts and hips. My ribs were more pronounced, I noticed, but I found that I

  couldn’t muster the will to care.

  Today was the day I would be declared the official assassin of the

  kingdom. Today, I would stand in front of the seven royal families and get a

  fucking gold star for my murderous tendencies. It occurred to me that this

  would be the first time I would meet my mates’ parents, men and women I

  have already been pre-programmed to hate. I would have to look them in the

  eyes and act like I wasn’t planning their gruesome deaths.

  And they would die, of that I was almost certain of. I could only hope that

  it would be my hand holding the knife when the life drained from their

  miserable bodies.

  There was also Aaliyah I had to worry about. I had contacted my sources

  back at the resistance, and I had yet to hear anything from them. That worried

  me tremendously. B was a timely man. Punctual to an extreme. The longest I

  had went without hearing from him was only a day. I told myself not to

  panic, that there were other things I needed to focus on.

  Who was Aaliyah, and why was she targeting me?

  Questions were running rampant through my head. There were just too

  many pieces I had to gather before I could even consider an answer.

  A coughing fit nearly made me buckle over. I glanced towards Devlin,

  anxious that he had heard me, but he was mercifully still asleep. He must’ve

  been more tired than I realized.

  Grabbing a tissue, I coughed until my throat was raw. Blood stained the

  white surface.

  My blood.

  Without a word, I tossed the tissue into the garbage can alongside dozens

  of others.

  It was a problem I would deal with. Later.

  Maybe.

  For now, I had a commencement ceremony to attend.

  Raising my chin, I stepped out into the hallway. I knew that my princes -

  the princes, not my princes - would be there already. Except for Devlin. He

  hadn’t left my side since…

  Well. I didn’t want to think about that.

  I didn’t want to think about how everyone I had ever loved had been

  pulled away from me. Love was dangerous, and I swore to myself I would

  never feel that emotion again. Even if seven princes were attempting to worm

  their way into my heart.

  I may have been alone now, but I had won. That had to count for

  something. B would be proud of me for completing my mission. Diego would

  be too.

  My throat closed, but I quickly swept those emotions away. Not today.

  Not ever. They had to stay so far buried that not even a necromancer could

  raise them from the grave.

  I was Z.

  Assassin.

  Mate of seven men.

  Competitor of The Damning.

  Winner of The Damning.

  Straightening my shoulders, I walked down the hallway to face my

  destiny.

  TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK 2: Envy.

  Coming soon…

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  It takes a team to write a book, and I am immensely fortunate to have the best

  one. There are so many people I would like to thank. First, to my amazing

  family. My sister had been the one to push me to start publishing, and I had

  never been more grateful I had taken her advice. She also told me that I didn’t

  just have to make writing a hobby, but I could potentially turn it into a career

  and a lifestyle. In time, sister. In time. I would also like to thank my parents

  for their continued support and encouragement. Never once did they judge

  me for what I wrote.

  My amazing PA, Sosha Ann, thank you. Without you, I would probably

  still be drowning in the deep end. I would also like to thank my betas:

  Heather, Kelly, Sarita, Stormy, Elena, Cynthia, and Phylicia. Thank you all

  for helping me produce the best possible novel.

  And thank you to my author big sister, Loxley Savage, who helped me

  and befriended me when I was at my lowest point. I would also like to thank

  Lana Kole for helping me think of cheesy sex sayings.

  And finally, I would like to thank you. The person reading this. Without

  your support I wouldn’t be where I am today. From the bottom of my heart, I

  appreciate all you have done for me.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Katie May is a brand new reverse harem author. She currently has three books published and many

  more planned. In her spare time, she loves to read, write, and play softball. She currently resides in West Michigan with her family.

  To join her Reader’s Group for exclusive content

  and teasers, just follow the link below or

  search Katie May’s Group .

  https://m.facebook.com/groups/346631319241776?ref=bookmarks#

  OTHER BOOKS BY KATIE MAY:

  The Darkness We Crave (Together We Fall Book 1)

  Keep reading for a preview!

  The Light We Seek (Together We Fall Book 2)

  Gangs and Ghosts (Beyond the Shadows Book 1)

  Keep reading for a preview!

  THE DARKNESS WE CRAVE

  Mr. Fuckadoodledoo-picklesucker-buttlicker was leering at me. Again. I

  mentally tallied the amount of times I had caught his penetrating eyes turned

  in my direction in the last hour. Fifty-two. He had eye raped me fifty-two

  times in a span of sixty minutes.

  Stiffening in my seat, I attempted to pay attention to my father across

  from me and ignore Mr. Buttlicker. D.O.D – Dear Old Dad – had his

  peppered hair trimmed so it cascaded neatly to his shoulders. He wore a gray

  suit
that seemed to heighten the blue in his eyes. I supposed that he might’ve

  been a handsome man once, if you find ice-cold asshole statues handsome.

  Seriously, the man was a dick. He even put Buttlicker to shame in the whole

  creeper-asshole department.

  We had arrived at the restaurant only a few minutes earlier, traveling

  immediately from the conference room to the elegant restaurant in the

  basement of the resort. The only word adequate enough to describe such a

  room was golden. I know, not the most eloquent description, but everything

  seemed to be painted in a golden sheen, from the intricately carved wood

  work to the golden flowers canvasing the wall. It was almost nauseating.

  “I appreciate you taking the time to meet with us,” D.O.D said, for

  probably the billionth time that evening. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  Buttlicker had as much choice in the matter as I had – needless to say, none at

  all.

  “It’s always a pleasure doing business with you,” Buttlicker said stiffly.

  His tone suggested, though, that it was anything but pleasurable. Daddy

  tended to evoke fear in his clients.

  “What looks good?” D.O.D asked, scanning the menu.

  And cue…

  “I can think of one thing.” Buttlicker’s gaze flickered appreciatively over

  my body, and I resisted the urge to shiver. He made me feel as if I was naked,

  despite the fact I was wearing a purposefully modest black number with a

  pearl necklace strung tightly across my neck. The guy also seemed to be

  forgetting the fact that he was nearly thirty-some years older than my own

  age of seventeen.

  A reminder, my friends, that pedophilia is a punishable offense.

  My mother made a sound as if she heard Buttlicker’s comment and found

  it as repulsive as I had…wait no. She was just ogling our waiter’s backside

  while simultaneously touching Mr. Dickhead’s – aka our head of security’s –

  knee underneath the table. Like seriously? Did the woman not realize I was

  sitting directly beside her, clearly able to see her hand trailing upwards

  towards no-no land. Good riddance. She was going to be the death of me.

  As I thought this, Buttlicker gave me a smile that he must’ve thought was

  seductive but came across as more as a constipated grimace.

  Correction. He was going to be the death of me.

  The waiter, that my mother was so shamelessly gaping at, stopped at our

  table, and my mouth nearly fell from its hinges.

  The guy was gorgeous. Like ridiculously gorgeous. His ash blond hair

  was disheveled, as if he had run his hand through it one too many times. His

  eyes, a vibrant off-set blue that seemed to heighten an already arresting face,

  were sparkling as if he was on the inside of a joke. Even his cheekbones – oh

  sweet baby Jesus, those cheek bones – were chiseled and rose high on his

  face.

  And. He. Had. Dimples.

  My one weakness.

  “Good afternoon. My name is Asher, and I’ll be taking care of you this

  evening.”

  “Is that a promise?” My mother battered her eyelashes at him, and I felt

  my own eyes widen in horror.

  “Dammit mother,” I hissed. If it was possible, and I didn’t think it

  physically was, D.O.D’s expression darkened further. If there was one thing

  he hated, it was the attention his wife gave other males. Of course, D.O.D

  made an exception for Dickhead the guard, but that could’ve been because he

  was banging him too.

  I touched my pearl necklace, a reminder of what a little blackmailing

  could gain me.

  If only it could rid me of such nuisances, say the Buttlicker licking his

  buttlicker lips beside me.

  I wanted to apologize to the waiter for my mother’s crude, but

  unsurprising, behavior. However, I knew the gesture would be futile. D.O.D

  was not only the owner of this ostentatious restaurant, but the entire resort.

  And a few other not-so-legal enterprises that I probably shouldn’t mention.

  Gorgeous kept his smile pleasant though his eyes dimmed marginally. He

  looked embarrassed by my mother’s outburst, but how could he not? She

  basically implied that he was a prostitute to hire, despite the fact that he could

  only be a year or two older than myself.

  “I’ll have the chicken alfredo,” I said quickly. Pathetic attempt, I’ll admit,

  to ease the awkward tension, but it seemed to have the desired effect. D.O.D

  let out a breath I hadn’t realized he had been holding, and mother’s face

  contorted into a scowl. She really didn’t like it when I interrupted her flirt

  sessions, as she so liked to call them. Gorgeous’s eyes flickered to me,

  immensely relieved.

  And then they stayed there.

  I knew he what he was seeing. It was the same thing that everybody saw,

  the same thing that I saw when I looked into the mirror. A girl that was

  almost ethereal in beauty with brown, curly hair and a porcelain-like face.

  Bright red lips and a cute, button nose. And the eyes – a color that seemed to

  be a mixture of violet and blue, like the light at the crack of dawn where the

  sun had yet to set and the moon had yet to disappear completely.

  Did nobody see how haunted those eyes were? How the lips were

  constantly turned down into a frown? How the makeup was barely able to

  conceal the bruises marring the perfect skin?

  Did anybody care?

  Asher continued to stare at me, a blond brow lifting slightly. His mouth

  opened before quickly snapping close. I couldn’t understand the expression

  on his face.

  Buttlicker also must’ve noticed the attention the waiter had given me, for

  he rested his hand possessively on my knee. I winced, shifting away from the

  squeamish man. One reprimanding stare from my father had me cowering

  closer towards Buttlicker.

  It was a choice between two evils. With Buttlicker, I knew that I would

  survive whatever he had in store for me. With my father, I could never be too

  sure.

  Gorgeous’s gaze hardened as he surveyed my father and then Buttlicker,

  but he didn’t comment. Smart move.

  “And what can I get you?” Asher asked sharply, turning towards the

  slimy man still gripping my knee as if his life depended on it. Yup. I was

  going to get a nasty bruise there.

  Great. Another one added to the inventory.

  Mental me could barely retain rolling her eyes.

  “Did you say something?” Buttlicker asked, turning his attention from

  Asher to me. This time I did roll my eyes, both physically and mentally (if

  there’s such thing as rolling your eyes mentally. I’m not exactly sure, but I

  pictured myself rolling my eyes inside my mind. Does that count?)

  “I didn’t say anything,” I huffed, glaring a hole at my menu. I had a

  tendency to speak my mind. Literally. Therapist 1 said it was a defense

  mechanism for my traumatic childhood – whatever the hell that means.

  Therapist 2 said it was a way for me to express myself. Therapist 3 just

  chuckled and said I was an idiot (I don’t believe Therapist 3 was an actual

  therapist), but Therapist 4 admitted that it was not uncommon for trauma

  patients, when facing i
solation, to find comfort in their own thoughts. Thus,

  my inner monologues and rumblings often turned into outer monologues and

  rumblings. You can imagine how embarrassing it can be at times, especially

  with my tendency to create nicknames.

  Asher continued taking orders around the table, and I half expected my

  mother to make a smartass comment like “I’ll have you for supper” or

  something dumb like that. I was pleasantly surprised when she only made a

  passing comment about having “the Asher special for dessert”. That was real

  progress for my mother.

  I wonder if his last name is Gorgeous? Then I wouldn’t feel as creepy

  calling him Gorgeous. Asher Gorgeous. Hmmm. Fitting.

  It took me a moment to realize that all eyes were on me, including the

  stunning waiter whose smile was blinding in the artificial lighting.

  I tried to recollect what I had just thought, and obviously said, and my

  cheeks flamed with the realization of what had transpired.

  “Shit.”

  Kill me now.

  “Tempting,” D.O.D said, taking a sip of his water. His expression was as

  severe as his eyes. I had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t joking. Great. Just

  what I wanted.

  “So about those Red Sox?” I asked quickly. Though, in the middle of

  winter, I doubted that baseball had started up again. Sports. Sports were

  always a good topic of conversation with men. Asher, moving from our table

  to the next, smirked at me. He had no doubt heard my comment and had

  found it amusing. What can I say? I have that effect on people.

  Conversation, thankfully, steered away from the whole me-dying-thing

  and Red Sox to more work-related material. Taxes and employees and the

  whole shebang. They didn’t talk about any of their, for back of better term,

  illegal enterprises, though not that I blamed them. I wondered how that

  conversation would go.

  “I was wondering how much you have been selling those illegal guns

  for?”

  “The same amount as I have been selling my coke.” Or pot. Or marijuana.

  Or whatever the hell they were up to.

  D.O.D had insisted that I take part in the business.

  “You’re no longer a little girl,” he had told me sternly. “You have to start

  training to take over the family business.”