Charming the devil charm.., p.1
Charming the Devil (Charming #2), page 1
Charming the Devil
Sarah Blue
Copyright © 2023 by Sarah Blue
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Cover by @sarahblueauthor
Edits by Geeky Good Edits
Contents
Spotify Playlist
Dedication
Preface
Prologue
1. Lilith
2. Lilith
3. Lucifer
4. Lilith
5. Lucifer
6. Lilith
7. Lucifer
8. Lilith
9. Lucifer
10. Lilith
11. Lucifer
12. Lilith
13. Lilith
14. Lucifer
15. Lilith
16. Lucifer
17. Lilith
18. Lucifer
19. Lilith
20. Lilith
21. Lucifer
22. Lilith
23. Lucifer
24. Lilith
25. Lucifer
26. Lilith
27. Lucifer
28. Lilith
29. Lucifer
30. Lilith
31. Lilith
32. Lucifer
Epilogue
A look at Charming As Hell
Also By
Acknowledgments
About The Author
Spotify Playlist
all the good girls go to hell – Billie Ellish
Vigilante Shit – Taylor Swift
Violent – Carolesdaughter
Murder Party – NOT THE MAIN CHARACTER
killing boys – Halsey
I'm So Sick – Flyleaf
Her – Megan Thee Stallion
Montero – Lil Nas X
Play with Fire – Sam Tinnesz, Yacht Money
Chop Suey! – System Of A Down
Hate Me – Ellie Goulding, Juice WRLD
Erase Me – Kid Cudi
Miss YOU! – CORPSE
The Perfect Girl – Mareux
Judas – Lady Gaga
Me and the Devil – Soap&skin
Beggin' – Måneskin
Take Me to Church – Hozier
Love Like Mine – Stela Cole
THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND – Bad Omens
Still into You – Paramore
Centuries – Fall Out Boy
Heaven – Julia Michaels
To the good girls who love to be bad.
P.S. Justin 1 (Justin 2, you’re safe for now). I was too young for you, and you really need to trim your beard, jfc.
Previously on the Charming series….
Thank you for picking up Charming the Devil. For a content warning, please visit my website.
Charming the Devil starts in the past, before to the events of Charming Your Dad. Eventually, the story meets up to modern day—the same timeline in Charming Your Dad.
If you haven't read Charming Your Dad, you can pick that up here. If daddy isn't your thing, or you have the brain of a goldfish, like me, here is a little refresher of what happened in Charming Your Dad:
Our favorite witch-demon, Blair, was on a mission to make her ex's life miserable and seek revenge against her coven. In the process of her revenge, she falls in love with Dax, one of Lucifer's key demons, who also happens to be her ex-boyfriend's dad. Along the way, they are hunting the same enemy, a demon who is possessing people and leaving a massive body count in their wake. As the mystery unfolds, it comes to life that Blair is the daughter of Lucifer himself and the demon who was possessing people is her half-sister, Mara. It's not a mystery to those who live in the Manor that Lucifer is with his assistant Lilith… but where and how long ago does that love story begin…
Prologue
Lilith
Age 19
Hallowsdeep is basically the taint of the tri-state area. Yet, I find myself here at a ridiculous house party… on Halloween of all days. I can’t lie and say I don’t have a morbid curiosity about the obscure town, but coming here on Halloween wasn’t my idea. It was my sister’s—my twin—Diana. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to let her come here by herself. It’s not safe, and Diana can be so naive sometimes.
Even if it means that I have to sit here and listen to MMMBop while watching her sit on the campus asshole’s lap. It’s what a good sister should do, and it doesn’t hurt that the party is being held at a mansion that I’m growing more and more curious about each time I look around. I stare at an old portrait for a moment before my gaze sweeps back to my sister.
Diana looks pretty tonight, wearing a pink skirt and top with the butterfly wings that she made by hand, sitting gently on her back. We might be twins, but tonight I’ve dressed like a character from Men in Black. It goes above most of the party-goers’ heads. I’m just a girl in an awkwardly large suit that I dug out of my dad’s old things.
I cross my legs, sitting in an oversized chair in the corner and watch. It’s what I do best. Diana is the bubbly one, the one with all the friends and the budding social life. It’s not that I don’t know how to talk to people or that I dislike people... well, I do dislike a lot of people. It’s just that something has always felt off. Like I don’t belong.
And not in a socially awkward way. In a way that makes my skin itch and has me wanting more than this mediocre life of frat parties and white picket fences. It’s not that I think I’m better than most people, I just know there’s more to my life than a white picket fence and some stale American dream. I’m not sure what my destiny is, but I know it’s got to be more than this.
God, I sound like an asshole, and maybe I am. I can live with that.
While my purpose in life hasn’t been given to me by some burning bush or written out for me in the stars, I know that I have one. I shake off my nearly narcissistic train of thought as I watch Diana. Right now, my purpose is to make sure she gets home safe and doesn’t do anything she’ll regret later. She snuggles deeper onto Tyler’s lap, and it makes me want to vomit.
He’s a known player throughout campus, and my sister seems to think she can change him or that she’ll be the one to make him settle down. Men like him can’t be changed. I think they’re born defective. Mix that with a life of privilege, where mommy and daddy get them out of every situation, and it leads to them being an insufferable douche.
He drapes his hand on her hip as he speaks to her, and I do my best to stay put and just watch.
“Wanna dance?” he asks her.
“Sure,” she replies, grinning happily while shooting me a look that screams please stop staring at me and being a freak.
They dance together, and it’s gross to watch her touch him, so I make my way to get a drink. The guy who owns the place, Doug, is standing next to the keg.
He looks me up and down before smiling wide; it’s creepy. It looks like he’s about to turn around and try talking to me again. So I quickly turn away and make my way down a hallway in the opposite direction of the dance floor.
The mansion is odd, to say the least, like it was built in the early forties and hasn’t changed much since. The floors look to be original, but that’s not the most interesting thing about the house. It’s the items in the home. As I walk through the corridor, the bass of the music quiets while I snoop through dear-old-Doug’s house.
Old art lines the walls, easily dating back to the Renaissance era. Every six feet, there is a pedestal with a different artifact. Some are covered by glass, like the book I’m currently standing in front of. The language is one I don’t recognize, and the pages are worn, having yellowed over time. I shrug my shoulders, walking to the next piece. It’s a decanter of some sort, and it looks ancient. Who in their right mind would invite all of these people here when they have so much interesting—and very stealable—stuff? I pass by a few pieces of jewelry in protective glass cases as I reach the door at the end of the hall.
It feels like something behind the door is calling to me. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Like a dark pull gripping me around my heart, and it tugs at me relentlessly. I can’t stop myself from grasping the crystal doorknob, turning the handle, and walking into the room.
The door creaks loudly with my entry, but no alarms go off. As I look around, it’s obvious that it’s an arms room. Swords, knives, daggers, and other sharp weapons line the walls, along with the trays laid out on the three tables inside this small room.
I glance at all the different weapons. Some of them look so old I wonder how much they’re worth and what I could sell them for. I shake the thought out of my head when I calculate the possibility of getting caught. I need to be smart about this.
My hands glide against the wooden edge of the table when the glint of a dagger draws my attention, and I stop dead in my tracks. The hilt is black with roses chiseled into it. The blade doesn’t look particularly sharp, but something about it screams ‘danger’. When my finger touches the cool metal, it’s as if something powerful shoots through me. A dark deep strength I’ve never felt before touches every nerve, forcing me to wrap my hand around the handle and fully examine the dagger.
The way it feels against my skin is indescribable, like this dagger is meant to be mine. It feels warm under my palm. Weird thoughts creep into my mind about all of the things I’ve wanted to do but haven’t acted on. I attempt to put the dagger down, but it’s like my b ody is acting of its own accord. My fist is unrelenting as my grip unintentionally tightens. I swear it’s like I’ve been reunited with a parted item; that this dagger was always mine, but now we’re reconnected. I know I said I was going to be smart about not stealing anything tonight, but… fuck it!
I take it, tucking it in the waist of my black slacks as I leave the room.
I walk back to the party, worried that someone will know I stole something. I should get Diana and get the fuck out of here as soon as possible. I have to push people out of the way as The Sign by Ace of Base blasts throughout the expensive mansion. It feels poetic in a sense as the dagger warms my hip. It felt like a sign, like a blaring neon sign saying we’ve found each other at last.
“Woah, where’s the fire?” a masculine voice asks as a hand cups my shoulder. I hold back a shiver, my instincts immediately firing off that the touch is unwanted. I pull the sunglasses that go along with my costume, which have been sitting on top of my head, down to cover my eyes. I can not get caught stealing what I’m sure is a priceless antique.
I look up at the guy, who gives me another one of those creepy grins. “I’m Doug Cummings, this is my house.”
“Oh, hi. Sorry, just looking for my sister.”
“Men in Black, right?” he says, ignoring the fact that I said I was looking for my sister.
“Yeah. My sister is dressed like a butterfly,” I say sweetly. I’m great at mimicking my sister and how she speaks to people. It makes people underestimate me, and that’s how I always want to be seen.
He rubs at his chin in thought. Somehow Doug looks thirty-seven at the ripe age of twenty. I can’t imagine what he’ll look like thirty years from now. “Haven’t seen any butterflies.” He invades my space, stepping a little too close. He smells like stale beer and cologne so thick that it should be illegal.
“Excuse me,” I reply, trying to duck under his arm. I swear I feel the dagger heat at my hip, but I ignore it. The last thing I need is for this guy to know I stole from him. What if he touches my hip and feels it?
He grips my arm, and for a serious moment, I think about chopping it off by the wrist. Literally, a vision of me using the dagger to slice his encroaching hand right off flashes through my mind. I have to hide my smile from Doug, so he doesn’t get the impression that his touch is warranted. What is it with men thinking they have the right to touch a woman without their permission?
“Don’t you want to stay, get to know each other? I’ve got more fun stuff if that’s what you’re into.”
I really want to punch him in the dick and tell him I hope one day a woman shows him what his worth is. But instead, I smile and shake my head. “Maybe, if I find my sister first.”
His sleazy grin widens, and you can just tell that Doug is the subject of generational wealth and privilege. It’s written in the way he holds himself. It’s even more obvious how he was stupid enough to hold a party in his family home filled to the brim with expensive shit—shit that could turn a profit.
Suddenly a bright pink butterfly runs into me, her cheeks stained pink. She’s clearly been crying.
“Diana?” I ask with a slight hint of panic while holding onto her forearms as she falls apart.
“He was dancing with Savannah Bell,” she whines as she tries to hold herself together.
“Let’s get out of here unless you want me to punch him in the throat for you?”
That garners a slight smile from my sister, but she shakes her head no.
Doug looks pissed. Little does he know, not only did I get out of an encounter where I would have the disprivilege of his company, but I’ve also stolen one of the Cummings' family treasures. As we walk further and further from the house, I swear I can feel contentment flow through me. The dagger warms my skin like it’s excited to be taken away from this place.
I can tell Diana had a drink or two as she stumbles in her shoes.
“You can say it, say you told me so.”
“That’s not what I want to say, Diana.”
“I don’t get it; how come I couldn’t see what a jerk he was?”
I sigh as I help her get into the car on the passenger’s side.
“You like to see the best in people; that’s not a bad thing.”
“But you don’t?”
“No.” I keep it simple, knowing that, without a doubt, most people’s intentions are based in a selfish nature. As I look over at my innocent and endearing sister, I know that it’s my job to take care of her and protect her from the evil in this world, even if it darkens my soul further.
Chapter one
Two years later…
“Remember, your papers on Camus are due next Wednesday. Is finding happiness even in the darkest moments of our life an act of rebellion? Do you think he’s blowing smoke up our ass? Are his ideologies actually possible in real life?” Professor Montague recites to the class. Sue me for taking one of his classes all four years of college. He’s a silver fox who bends me over and fucks me the way I like— mostly.
I probably shouldn’t have let him turn me into his dirty, little secret. He keeps promising me that once I graduate, we can go public, and I’m apparently deluded enough to believe him. Because I need something to feel alive—and what I want to do to feel alive is considered a felony—so fucking my professor will have to do. The thoughts that have been consuming me lately have gotten worrisome, but I lock them away. I do my best to fit in and sedate what feels like a beast lurking inside of me.
“Lilith, can I see you after class?” he asks, and I nod. I watch him in his beige slacks and rolled-up white shirt. He has wavey, dark blond hair and thick-rimmed glasses that give him that bangable professor look that I love so much. There’s something about an older man that appeals to me. Maybe it’s how many drunk college guys I’ve witnessed acting like complete neanderthals. Or maybe it has to do with wanting a man to be able to take control of me, for once. I’m always in my own head, and I just want the release of not constantly overthinking. Professor Montague almost gets me there.
I stay in my seat, taking longer to pack up as the other students leave the lecture hall. I look good today, more than good if I do say so myself. My thick, long blonde hair is in a high ponytail, and I wear a simple white blouse with a checkered navy skirt. I watch as Mr. Montague licks his finger to flip through a book. I really should start calling him Henry, but something about calling him professor does something for me.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Montague,” I ask, leaning my ass against the edge of his desk and spreading my legs slightly. He clears his throat and smiles at me.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I have to cancel tonight.”
“Oh,” I say, not letting the rejection show on my face. He was supposed to take me on a real date tonight. We were going to drive to North Point—a little town away from campus. But it was going to be a date with tablecloths and all. Anger bubbles up inside of me, and I force a smile on my face and nod. “We can reschedule?”
“I’d love that. My sister and her husband are coming into town unexpectedly.”
Of course, he doesn’t want them to meet his girlfriend, who is also his student. “Of course, I understand.”
“I knew you would. That’s what I like about you, Lilith. You’re so mature,” he compliments. His hand grazes my skirt and pushes it up as he kisses the side of my head. “You know if I could, I’d make it happen… right, honey?”
“No, I get it. We can go out to dinner another time. But do you have any time right now?” I ask, feeling a little pathetic, searching for his approval and wanting to get laid. Maybe I have some unresolved daddy issues. But I’m definitely not ready to dig into that concept right now.
“Sorry, Lilith. It will need to be next week. I do have these for you, though.” He holds out a tin of chocolate chip cookies to me. It’s cute that he bakes for me, it makes me feel special. I smile as I take the box. “See you on Monday,” he says with a parting kiss to the side of my head.
I nod as he leaves the lecture hall, leaving me in the wake of his rejection. I’m supposed to know better, know when a man is using me. But Mr. Montague is my secret; Diana doesn’t even know about him, so I only have myself to wade through the shame with. I have no outlet to work through how manipulated I feel. I stand up straight, clutching my secret cookies against my chest. I’m supposed to be better than this.
