Page 125 of Psycho Beasts

Ascher’s tattoos rippled as he bunched his muscles, horns lengthening. “How long are you go to fucking toss that at me? I’ve fucking proven my loyalty.”

Cobra whirled and charged at him. “You will never prove your loyalty.”

Ascher barreled forward, and their chests cracked against each other. “Oh, but you’re buddy-buddy with the soldier of the woman who fucking imprisoned you your whole life? Grow the fuck up. You use your snakes as an excuse to act fucking unhinged, and I’m tired of it.”

A warning hiss rattled, a predator’s warning, and I closed my eyes.

I really should have bought those gratitude journals.

Peeking through my lids, I looked just in case there was bloodshed, which I definitely didn’t want to miss.

If the girls were here, they would all have been chanting “fight.”

I missed them.

Jax grabbed each of the others by the backs of the necks and dragged them apart.

“We’re a pack,” he said calmly. “Cobra, we can all feel the fact that you were deeply hurt by Ascher’s actions, but that you’ve already forgiven him, so stop posturing.”

Ascher smirked.

Jax turned to him with a snarl. “And we can all feel that you’re worried sick about earning Cobra’s acceptance, so stop riling him up. If you keep this up, you’ll lose it.”

Ascher’s shoulders deflated under Jax’s scowl, and he wrenched himself out of the big man’s grip.

Not done, Jax whirled on Xerxes, who was standing unnaturally still in the corner of the room.

The entire time, he hadn’t stopped staring at me.

“And, Xerxes, stop fantasizing about asphyxiating Sadie and fucking her against the wall. It’s distracting.”

I squirmed and suddenly became very interested in the comforter on the bed. Was that real gold silk weaved into the red fabric? Very artsy.

“And Sadie.” Jax stalked to the bed and leaned over me.

My forehead wrinkled as I waited for him to diagnose my wrongs.

Since I wasn’t fantasizing about asphyxiating anyone, I was not the problem here.

Jax leaned forward until his handsome face filled my vision.

Up close, his gold piercings and chains glimmered in the room’s dim light.

“We’re all going through it right now, and you don’t get to play the victim. If you have something to say, something to complain about, say it. Don’t overtake our free will and breach our trust by using us like little marionette dolls.” His voice trailed off and cracked slightly. “That was messed up.”

My conscience reared its ugly head, and guilt made my chest spasm.

I went back to studying the comforter.

They’d bound and gagged me; it wasn’t like I could say anything to defend myself. A wrong for a wrong—that was all we were.

Sweet cinnamon caressed my nose, a reminder of what I wanted so badly but could never have.

Shame and resignation churned in my gut.

A few weeks ago, I’d thought my scars were my biggest problem. That somehow, everything would fall into place after they were enchanted away. I’d never been more wrong.

It was all too much.

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