Page 119 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

I was the team captain, and she was the physically weakest person on the team. It was my job to protect her, and I’d failed.

Long moments passed as I tried desperately to put organs back into place to speed up the healing process.

Guilt punched me, and I stumbled away from her like she was poisonous.

I’d gone to her first and not my Revered.

It must be the slave tattoo influencing me.

I wanted to puke.

As an Ignis, my actions were sacrilegious.

Ignoring the girl, I turned my full attention to Orion. Found the needle and thread in the healing kit and knelt atop him.

With wounds gaping, I began stitching.

I tried to make it up to him. Showed him my devotion. Gave him everything I could.

Exhausted.

Head spinning with blood loss.

With painstaking precision, I sewed him back together.

I was fully focused on my Revered, but I couldn’t stop myself from glancing over every few minutes to make sure Arabella’s chest kept rising.

When it didn’t for too long of a moment, I had a mini panic attack and lit a pillow on fire.

Her chest rose, and I exhaled with relief.

I didn’t like the woman. She was annoying. But I’d gotten used to her surly presence and ridiculous sarcasm.

It was just a captain thing. She was my teammate; that was why I cared. Nothing more.

Arabella stopped breathing again, and I moaned as anxiety twisted my gut.

When her chest rose, I nearly passed out.

I stitched up my Revered with half my attention on the curly-haired woman.

I was in hell.

Hours later the rest of my legion returned to find me covered in blood as I stitched up my Revered.

“Let me help,” Scorpius offered.

I growled like a wild animal and used my body to shield Orion from his view.

I was his Ignis. He was my responsibility. My everything.

He was mine to fix.

Against my will my eyes wandered over to Arabella. She is also mine to fix. I shook my head to dislodge the inane thoughts the tattoo was putting in my head.

She looked so pale.

Small and vulnerable.

---