Page 1 of Psycho Beasts

Aran

PROLOGUE

I sat in the back row of the supercar. Sadie’s younger sister, Lucinda, was next to me, squished against my side.

Jax sat in the middle row with his arms tucked around his three sisters, while Cobra, Ascher, and Xerxes sat in the first row.

Even though it was night, our driver wore a black suit and dark sunglasses. He had an enchanted wire glowing in his ear, and every so often, he whispered into it.

The car was long and sleek, with a low roof. All the men, including myself, were hunched over with our necks contorted to the side.

I didn’t mind the discomfort.

I welcomed the pain.

Outside, glowing neon skyscrapers stabbed through heavy clouds and extended endlessly into the dark night sky.

In another life, under different circumstances, I would have marveled at the massive metal structures. They were like nothing I’d ever seen.

Nothing I could have imagined.

What my tutors had taught me about the beast realm didn’t hold a candle to the reality of the glimmering world, the sheer awe-inspiring heights of the glowing glass-and-steel buildings, and the sleek lines of the supercars. An enchanted engine purred softly beneath me as we sped impossibly fast through the new realm.

But I couldn’t make myself care about the engineering marvels.

All I knew was pain.

Rain poured in a dark haze of depression. Droplets streaked across the window, as if the weather mimicked my turbulent thoughts.

I was beyond all transient feelings. Sadness, heartbreak, and melancholy were delightful compared to the ache in my soul.

Because deep down, in the marrow of my bones, I hurt. Because under the dual suns of the fae realm, I’d discovered that something horrible lived inside me.

A monster crawled beneath my flesh, begging to be let free.

Even now, I could feel it. Sense it. Rattling against the steel cage that I’d trapped it within.

It wanted to kill. To maim. To hurt.

My back burned unbearably, and my sternum ached like someone had punched me. I scratched at my shoulders and imagined nails stabbing through my skin.

The memory of what I’d done crushed me against the buttery leather of my seat.

Chills shook me, and my vision blurred.

The skyscrapers distorted into something different: beasts. Large, glowing creatures growled down at me from high above.

They chased our car in a haze of neon vitriol.

I scratched harder at my back.

Red flakes were still crusted beneath my fingernails, and they made the monsters outside the window so much worse.

I hated being dirty.

Ever since I was a girl, I preferred to be clean. If there was no dirt on my skin, no mess in my room, then the constant buzz of anxiety couldn’t overwhelm me.

Now I was filthy.

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