Page 11 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

Arabella eyed my fire with disgust.

“Men are so unwell.” She pushed against my chest.

I took a step back, glad to put space between us. She repulsed me.

She rubbed at the large bruises beneath her eyes. The glass cuts on her face had healed and were fading, but dark circles remained. The coloring was stark against her pale skin.

Yet again, I couldn’t help but compare Arabella to her male disguise.

As a boy, she’d been skinny with a wide frame that promised to fill out with enough exercise and food. Arabella’s frame was much narrower. She was covered in lean muscles, but barely had any shoulders.

The girl would never be a warrior.

My top lip curled as I remembered how she’d struggled in training and battles.

Female devils were never allowed in combat or war for that very reason. They could wield fire swords, but they were weak and abhorred violence, so they never used their abilities.

Women crumpled in violent situations.

They needed constant attention and pampering or they’d refuse to function. They were useless for anything but child-rearing, which happened infrequently for devils. Most of the time they just lazed about.

My jaw cracked with disgust and I fisted my hands.

While Scorpius and Orion silently waited for me to regain control, they touched my arms to offer comfort.

It didn’t work.

The past and the present were converging.

My biological father and his mates had died when I was a baby, and I’d never known my mother. She’d been nothing but a whore who’d been paid lavishly to breed and raise me. She had deceived my fathers and immediately abandoned me.

Arabella was just like her. Lazy and pampered, she’d deceived us to get what she wanted.

Sweat poured down my face and the temperature in the room’s corner spiked.

Arabella pulled out the neck of her oversized sweatshirt to cool herself.

When she tugged the material away from her skin, I saw straight down her chest.

Abruptly, I was parched, and it had nothing to do with the flames pouring off me.

I stared at the small swell of her breasts.

I licked my lips.

What the fuck.

I tore my eyes away.

It was because she used to have a male’s chest; that was why I was looking. It was pure curiosity.

Nothing else.

No other reason.

I worked my jaw back and forth until I regained enough control to speak without scorching her.

“You’re disgusting,” I growled.

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