Page 63 of Psycho Beasts

Aran mumbled groggily and pressed a pillow over her eyes. “Fuck off before I disembowel you.”

I hurried over to open the door before she woke up and made good on her promise. You could never be too sure these days.

My breath hitched.

Xerxes scowled down at me.

His bruises were mostly healed, and his skin shone with health. He was dressed in an impeccably fitting suit that stretched across his bulging muscles.

With his long blond locks, he looked like a fairy-tale prince.

Twin knives were strapped across his thighs, and his features were harsh.

A dark fairy tale.

I gulped and hurried out into the hall, shutting the door softly behind me as cinnamon sugar made my mouth water.

For the longest moment, neither of us said anything.

Tension hung heavy.

Xerxes dragged his hands over his face. “I’m sorry for…” He trailed off awkwardly.

I sighed. “I know.”

“No, you don’t know,” he snapped.

My hackles rose at his tone, and the tension between us spiked into something more sinister.

His purple eyes flashed. “Being back in this realm is not going to be easy for me, but it’s not an excuse. I was triggered by your choice of words, and it brought back bad memories. I’m devastated that I scared you like that, and I promise it will never happen again.”

Pretending I was a calm non-psycho girl who definitely hadn’t talked shit about him with Aran for an hour in the middle of the night, I nodded calmly. “I know that. It was just surprising.”

I paused as I tried to articulate what had hurt me the most. “I expected such high-handedness from the other men. Not you.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

Xerxes’s voice was a low growl. “What do you think I’m apologizing for?”

Did he have short-term memory loss?

“The whole slapping my pussy and acting like you could order me around. Duh.”

“Excuse me?”

Intensity rolled off Xerxes as he straightened his shoulders like he was getting ready for battle.

“Excuse you?” I pursed my lips.

Once again, it seemed like I was missing some imperative part of the conversation.

Xerxes’s honeyed accent was guttural. “I’m apologizing for punching the wall and scaring you. I meant everything else.”

I couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped my lips.

At first, I’d been rattled by the aggression, but when I’d woken up at two a.m. and talked it over with Aran, I’d realized that wasn’t what was really bothering me.

The crux of the problem was another man had pinned me against the wall and told me he owned me.

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