Page 13 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

Scorpius leaned toward the bitch and whispered all the painful ways she’d die.

My Protector didn’t need to touch people to hurt them.

Scorpius used words to tear people apart, and by the time he got around to physical violence, they were already broken.

Words were his favorite form of pain. He wielded every word with surgical exactness. He was purposeful. Meanwhile, she threw sentences around haphazardly, like grenades.

I wanted to scream in her face.

Scorch her.

“Calm down, Corvus.” Orion’s soft, lyrical voice washed over me. He wrapped his arms around my flaming body and whispered softly, “We’ll find our other Protector, and then we’ll know peace. Setting her on fire won’t do anything. There are other ways…”

He trailed off, and I shivered as he kissed my neck.

Orion was so fucking handsome and sweet.

He was the perfect Revered for us because no one else could ever handle the darkness that lived in me and Scorpius.

I stood still with flames pouring off me as he cradled me. The fire plumed around Orion but didn’t touch him.

I forced myself to relax.

Arabella would learn why the crest of the House of Malum was a dragon—we incinerated anyone who hurt our mates.

Long moments passed as Orion held me.

Minutes later, in the front of the room, Lothaire stopped shuffling through papers on his desk and mumbling about a conspiracy.

He stood up straight.

Orion and I slowly pulled away from each other. Scorpius walked back to join us in the middle of the room.

Arabella stayed in the corner.

We feigned nonchalance because we weren’t stupid.

Lothaire was still the vampyre who’d casually snapped the necks of the famed half warriors.

We needed his cooperation to find our missing mate.

If Lothaire noticed the tension, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he looked across the room at his daughter and asked with annoyance, “Must you constantly smoke?”

Arabella blew out a cloud of smoke in the shape of a gun and grabbed the incorporeal weapon.

She pulled the trigger.

A bullet poofed harmlessly off Lothaire’s chest. He gritted his teeth, but otherwise didn’t react.

Her crow cawed with delight while the gun dissipated. For some reason, the crow was the only smoke shape she blew that remained corporeal.

I asked Lothaire, “You thought it was prudent to bind our lives to this pathetic creature?”

Scorpius grunted in agreement.

Orion made a noise of disagreement in the back of his throat.

“You will not speak ill of my daughter.” Lothaire’s scar pulled tight.

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