The day had been long and daunting, but I had survived.
This? I wasn’t sure I could come back from it.
Because my mate was gone.
Jax was no longer in the Capital.
EPILOGUE
JAX
The bugs whispered to me. I couldn’t discern exactly what they were
saying, but the meaning was clear.
Alone.
Alone.
Alone.
They were practically screaming it at me.
Light pierced my eyes, and I lifted my hand to block the worst of it. A
dark silhouette came into view, kneeling down in front of me.
“Z?” I whispered, hope clenching my heart. But if you clenched a heart
too much, it broke. And that was what happened to me.
My heart...it shattered.
It wasn’t Z looking back at me, and it wasn’t Sasha. No, this woman with
the orange hair and dark eyes was unfamiliar.
“She left you, Jax. Even if she didn’t leave you now, she would soon. I
can see the poison running through her body. She can try to deny it all she
wants, ignore it, but it will come for her. She’s going to leave you, and she
might not even have a choice,” the woman said soothingly. She reached a
hand out to touch me, and I flinched, curling against the far wall of my cage.
I didn’t want her touching me. I didn’t want anyone except my mate touching
me.
The woman stood, pursing her lips. She surveyed my skittish form with
not a small amount of distaste.
“Do you want your mate back?” she asked softly. “Do you want Z and
your brothers?”
“Yes,” I whimpered. The walls were bleeding all around me, and I just
wanted it to stop. Z was the only one capable of stopping it.
I needed her.
“Then we’ll get her.” The woman smiled suddenly, but it only made me
more uneasy. Restless. Cornered. “You’ll bring her to me, won’t you Jax?
You’ll be an obedient monster.”
Blood.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Alone.
So alone.
The woman lunged at me suddenly, lips still curled into that beautiful,
sardonic smile. I only had a second to cry out Z’s name before a dagger was
in my heart.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Blood. Blood.
“You’ll be the best monster,” she whispered into my ear. “Now sleep.”
And I did.
TO BE CONTINUED IN GLUTTONY. .
OTHER BOOKS BY KATIE MAY
Together We Fall Series:
1. The Darkness We Crave
2. The Light We Seek
3. The Storm We Face
4. The Monsters We Hunt (Coming Soon)
Beyond the Shadows Series:
1. Gangs and Ghosts
2. Guns and Graveyards
3. Gauntlets and Ghouls (Coming Soon)
The Damning Series:
1. Greed
2. Envy
3. Gluttony (Coming Soon)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, it takes a team to make these books.
First, I would like to say thank you to my family. Thank you to my mom
and dad for loving me and supporting me unconditionally (even if I never let
you read my books). I would also like to thank my sister for allowing me to
kill her off in every novel of mine. Love you sis. Thank you to my younger
siblings and my grandparents.
I would also like to thank my author girls. You all know who you are, and
without your support and encouragement, I don’t know where I’d be. Special
shout out to Clitterati. I love drinking the Kool Aid with you ladies.
Sosha Ann, thank you for being an amazing PA. Seriously. You help me
keep my life in order.
Thank you to my alphas: Kelly, Elena, Heather, Phylicia, and Sarita.
Thank you to my betas: Kelcey, Haley, HarleyQuinn, Katie, Michelle,
and Rachel.
Finally, I would like to thank my readers. You guys have been incredible.
I wouldn’t be where I am today without you guys taking a chance on me.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Katie May has always loved writing. An avid reader herself, you can almost always find her with her
nose in a book or scribbling away in her notepad. Currently, she has five books published, all reverse
harem under this pen name. She resides in West Michigan with her family. If you would like to stay
updated on exclusive teasers, POVS, and updates on her novels, join her Reader’s Group - Katie’s
Gang!
FIRST CHAPTER OF DARKNESS WE
CRAVE!
Mr. Fuckadoodledoo-picklesucker-buttlicker was leering at me. Again. I
mentally tallied the number of times I caught his penetrating eyes turned in
my direction over 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 accentuate the blue in his eyes. Some might've considered
him a handsome man once, if they found 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 to describe such a room was
golden. I know, not the most eloquent description, but a golden sheen seemed
to paint everything, 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 did - needless to say, none at
all.
"It's always a pleasure doing business with you," Buttlicker responded
stiffly. His tone suggested, though, that he found it 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 naked, despite
the fact I purposefully wore a modest black number with a pearl necklace
strung tightly across my neck. The guy also seemed to be forgetting the fact
that he was thirty-some years older than my own age of seventeen.
A reminder, my friends, 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 sat
directly beside her, clearly able to see her hand trailing upwards towards no-
no land. Dear Lord. The woman 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 of a constipated grimace.
Correction. He was going to be the death of me.
The waiter, that my mother so shamelessly gaped 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,
sparkled as if he was the only one privy to an inside 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 batted 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 was,
D.O.D.'s expression darkened further. If he hated one thing, 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 I could gain with a little
blackmail.
If only it could rid me of such nuisances, say the Buttlicker licking his
buttlicking lips beside me.
I wanted to apologize to the waiter for my mother's crude, though
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'd like the chicken alfredo," I said quickly. A 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, his
relief obvious.
And then they stayed there.
I knew he what held his gaze. It was the same thing that everybody else
saw, the same thing 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 my 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 these eyes were? How my 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 snapping closed again. I couldn't understand the expression on
his face.
Buttlicker also must've noticed the attention the waiter gave me, for he
rested his hand possessively on my knee. I winced, shifting away from the
man who made me squeamish. One reprimanding stare from my father had
me cowering and leaning 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' 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. That was
going to leave a nasty bruise there.
Great. Another one added to the inventory.
Mental me could barely contain her eye roll.
"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 called it 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 called me 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 isolation, 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
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 who directed his blinding smile at me.
I tried to recall what I had just thought, and obviously said, and my
cheeks flamed with the realization of what 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 interjected 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 found it
amusing. What can I say? I have that effect on people.
Conversation, thankfully, steered away from the whole me-dying-of-
mortification-thing and Red Sox to more work-related material. Taxes and
employees and the whole stimulating 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 these days.
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."
I snorted.
Family business made me think of a sweet, loving family that
laughed as they fixed their shop and then came home to meals around the
dinner table. I'm pretty sure that most family businesses didn't involve over a
hundred shell companies, connections with the mafia, and a date with the
drug lord of Mexico. Running the "family business" sounded about as
appealing to me as stabbing my eye repeatedly with a rusted spoon would've
been. Needless to say, it wasn't appealing.
Still, I behaved like the good girl, the good daughter, that my parents
wanted me to be. It wasn't so much to please them as it was to protect myself.
When I was good, when I listened and obeyed, they had no reason to punish
me.
No reason to send people like Buttlicker to my room.
The mere thought made me tremble as if I had been electrocuted. My
hand absently pulled at my sweater sleeves until they covered my hands.
It wasn't long before our meal came, though it was a different waiter from
the one earlier that delivered it. Great. The one guy that I actually found
attractive, my family had to go and scare him away.
I shouldn't have been surprised. The longest relationship I had...well, that
lasted approximately two days. In kindergarten.
You see, I had a little problem (yes, even more of a problem than talking
to myself). It involved people. And it involved my lack of talking to them. To
some, I came across as a complete and utter bitch. To be completely honest, I
kind of was. I didn't have friends; I had minions and wannabes that followed
me around like lost puppies. I was the girl that every boy wanted, and every
girl wanted to be. The socialite constantly stalked by paparazzi with a slew of
hookups in her wake. The trendsetter, the beauty queen, the diva.
I was everything but myself.
It was almost as if I was a player in a video game, but I was being
controlled by a monkey on acid. I ran into walls, tripped over air, and ninety-
nine percent of the time looked completely lost and oblivious. I often
wondered if my life was just a big joke and God and the angels sat up in
heaven laughing at me.
Ha. Ha. Ha. Look at this mistake. You see? This is what a human
shouldn't be.
It was super empowering.
"How is everything tasting?" Asher reappeared at our table, breaking me