Page 101 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

My fingers trailed across the smooth material. It was a sturdy wood. The posts were the stalks of the mighty oak trees that grew hundreds of feet tall in the Olympus realm.

It was too broad to wrap my arms around and too smooth to rock climb up.

There was only one solution.

I focused on the enchanted metal that capped our ears and helped suppress our powers. A gift from the sun god.

Whoosh.

The metal ear caps floated upward above my head. Click. Click. Click. Shards pulled apart and formed a floating crown.

I grunted and tensed as the enchantment stopped concealing my power and the ache in my bones doubled. The sudden fever made me sweat, and my body convulsed in pain, muscles aching.

Flames exploded across every inch of my skin.

To my right, Orion’s crown also floated above his blond hair. His head was tipped back, eyes open, and he silently screamed.

My instincts went wild.

Flames multiplying.

I wanted to help my Revered, but I was one second from losing control and burning everything and everyone.

Breathing roughly through my nose, I concentrated on thinking calming thoughts. Your mates are healthy. Your mates are safe. You are in control.

Surprisingly the thoughts worked, and the fever receded quicker than it usually did.

As I was wiping sweat off my forehead, someone choked to my left.

Arabella gaped at us.

She stared at my face, and I couldn’t help but grin and flash my long, razor-sharp fangs. I waved at her mockingly, and my long black claws clicked together.

When I spoke, my voice was a monster’s growl. “Keep up, slave. Otherwise, it might hurt.” I pointedly looked up at where the posts towered above us.

She grimaced and nodded as if she had realized our predicament.

We hadn’t tested the exact bounds of the slave tattoo, but the top of the post was much further than the few hallways away she’d been when it had acted up.

“Want me to carry you, baby?” Orion’s lyrical voice tinkled, and I turned around to glare at him because he knew better than to speak so loudly.

He ignored me and kept his attention focused on Arabella.

Luckily, the other competitors were spread out far enough away that no one had seen him speak. Good thing because he looked more glorious than usual with his gold crown floating above his head.

His handsome features were somehow more stunning with razor-sharp teeth and black claws on his hands and feet. He looked deliciously dangerous.

“You’re not carrying her,” I growled with annoyance. “It’s too dangerous.”

No way would I risk my Revered falling because Arabella wanted to play the role of a weak princess that needed rescuing.

“No thanks, baby. I’m good,” Arabella said sarcastically, and I turned to her with suspicion. What was she playing at?

Then her eyes went midnight black and light-blue ice tipped the ends of her fingers in small claws. The sharp points were one third the size of ours and weren’t on her toes too, but they were still surprising.

My jaw dropped.

It was more proof of what I’d always suspected. Fae don’t have black eyes or claws.

---