Page 190 of Psycho Beasts

She dragged a shaking hand across her short hair.

It was growing out in a tumble of curls, different from her straight hair in the fae realm.

Aran saw the question in my eyes and fingered the locks. “Mother gave me an enchanted toe ring as a kid that kept my hair straight. Said my naturally unruly curls were ugly.”

Aran shrugged like it was no big deal. “I took it off the other day, since it helps keep me disguised.”

Such a small thing seemed so sinister.

“Aran, what happened after the sex clinic?” I asked softly, afraid of her answer.

She scoffed.

“Fucked-up stuff happened,” she whispered as she inhaled smoke and the pipe trembled between her lips.

“Shit,” I responded eloquently, afraid to push her too far but also to let her stew silently.

Abruptly, as if she’d made a decision, Aran stood up and threw her pipe to the ground. “I’m being a little bitch. If anyone would understand, it’s you. I need to stop wallowing. Gah, it’s killing me.”

She stomped her foot and heaved with aggression.

I nodded slowly, unsure what was happening.

Aran grabbed the bottom of her black T-shirt, but her hands shook so hard she couldn’t lift the fabric.

The room was still dark, and the shadows cast a nightmare-type quality around us.

Lightning flashed outside in the inky night, and rain battered the window.

Aran stomped her foot again and muttered expletives under her breath, then as if she was acting before she could talk herself out of it, she tugged off her shirt in one jerky movement and turned around.

The manor creaked as thunder crashed, and another bolt of lightning illuminated Aran’s pale body.

It was my turn to tremble.

Enchanted blue letters glowed in the dark.

They were carved sideways into Aran’s back.

Deep, jagged wounds that took up the surface of her entire back and left no doubt that some had dragged a blade roughly through her flesh.

“WHORE” was carved into her skin.

“Mother said she was inspired by your scars.” Aran’s voice was completely devoid of emotion.

Lightning flashed and thunder cracked in quick succession.

The manor shook.

“But she said your scars lacked finesse because any enchantment could cover them up. According to her, that ‘defeated the purpose of the lesson.’”

I bit down on my tongue to stop the scream that bubbled in my throat.

“The first day she met you, she had her palace aide create a blade that would permanently mar flesh and be impervious to other enchantments.”

My teeth gouged into my tongue, and I tasted blood. I whispered, “I’m so sorry. If we hadn’t gone to that clinic, this—”

“No.” Aran turned around and pulled her T-shirt back over her head. “Don’t play the ‘if only’ game. That’s what Mother wants us to do. She would have always found a way to use it against me, to punish me for running away. It was just a matter of time.”

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