Page 14 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

Arabella laughed.

Pop. Pop.

It took us all a second to realize the noise came from another smoke gun.

“Really? Now you want to be a father figure?” Pop. “This has to be the pinnacle of dramatic irony.” Pop.

She unloaded a magazine clip of smoke bullets into Lothaire’s chest.

“You will show me respect!” Lothaire roared.

She made a dramatic crying face, then frowned as she pointed the gun at her forehead.

Pop-p-p-p-p-p-p-p.

The magazine unloaded into her skull.

“Charming,” Scorpius scoffed as Orion whispered in his ear what she was doing.

Lothaire glared at her like he wanted to wring her neck. He’d have to get in line.

She was uncontrollable.

Disrespectful.

Petulant.

I said to Lothaire, “We bound her life to ours like you asked. We’ve completed our end of the deal, so you need to uphold yours.”

Lothaire nodded distractedly as he stared at his daughter. “I will have my scouts focus on finding your missing mate. You may stay at the academy until you find them.”

“Good,” I said. At least one thing wasn’t ruined.

Every recorded mate bond in the last few centuries had been among male devils, so we were sure that our missing Protector was a male devil living in another realm. Lothaire was still our best bet at finding him.

A chill ran down my spine as the five of us stood silently in the quiet room.

Would we not be able to recognize our mate because of the slave tattoo?

The House of Malum motto was written in my bones: Ut sicut meus—to keep as mine.

Even among other devils, Ignises from the House of Malum were renowned for our possessiveness. We hoarded our mates like dragons with priceless treasures.

We were obsessive.

Borderline psychotic.

The mere thought of being in my mate’s presence and failing to recognize them made bile burn my throat.

Lothaire’s jaw clenched as he said to Arabella, “You’re my daughter, and I will atone for my wrongdoings.”

She made a gagging noise. “I’ve chosen to believe that I was conceived through immaculate conception. The sun god endowed my mother’s deranged loins. You aren’t my father.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Lothaire looked unconcerned that his progeny was a moron. “Someday you’ll feel differently.”

Her expression darkened. “Since you enslaved me to devils who hate me, I probably won’t forgive you. Ever.”

“You’re not enslaved!” Lothaire snapped.

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