Page 34 of Psycho Beasts

But Ascher was just another alpha, a soldier.

Someone that could stand beside me and help protect them.

He stared at Sadie as she held on to Xerxes, like a sick man praying to the sun god.

Ascher’s obsession with her was acceptable, as long as he kept himself in check and proved his loyalty.

If he put Sadie or Cobra in harm’s way ever again, I would murder him with my bare hands.

He wasn’t getting another chance.

Finally, Spike cut me down from my restraints.

I landed on my feet and barely took stock of my injuries. Already I’d cataloged my aches and dismissed them.

My heavy muscles struggled to extend and contract properly after hanging from the ceiling for so long. It took a moment of centering myself before I could lean down and drag Cobra’s body off the floor.

I cradled him against my chest.

The stunning diamonds and crystals embedded in his skin didn’t have their usual shine.

Even his snakes were hurting.

Now that I knew Cobra didn’t have a beast form—he was the beast—a lot of things that had confused me over the years made sense.

In the shifter realm, after we’d battled fae monsters, I’d always had to fuck the intensity out of him.

He’d always struggled to rein in his aggression and settle down.

The urge to fight wouldn’t leave him until I pinned his gorgeous face against the wall and drove my knotted cock into his ass. It wasn’t until I’d filled him with my cum that his eyes would go back to normal.

Only then would the shadows stop writhing across his pale flesh.

He lost himself fully in the heat of battle and stopped pretending to be civilized.

Now Cobra’s neck hung limply across my forearm, his gorgeous face scrunched up in pain.

Unlike with the rest of us, Cobra’s flesh wasn’t just covered in hideous bruises. He was also covered in hundreds of tiny cuts.

Someone had tried to cut his jewels out of his skin and failed.

My gut told me it was Cobra’s father’s doing.

If he was going to be the prince of the Mafia, the prince of the city, he was going to have to prove himself.

I shivered at that awful realization.

The don was a darker, more polished version of his son; where Cobra was barely controlled aggression and fire, the don was a blade.

“You can go,” Spike said gleefully, and I barely heard him, too worried about the abused man hanging limp in my arms.

A low rumble rattled through my chest.

I breathed in the violence that made me want to bellow and charge out of the room like a madman.

How dare they hurt Cobra and Sadie like this.

Instead, I walked slowly.

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