Page 142 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

She was a puzzle, and I wanted to solve her until I knew the consistency of every breath she took. I’d been so close to figuring her out and pulling her into my web.

With centimeters to go, she’d pulled away.

The slave tattoo had put a wedge between us, and she no longer gave me coy glances. All I got were shuttered stares. The enslavement had destroyed any trust I’d earned, and it wasn’t fair.

But it would all be okay because Arabella didn’t realize that trust was never hers to give.

It was mine to take.

She thought she could just choose not to be my sweetheart. A laughable idea.

That wasn’t how this worked.

I’d already decided she was mine because she kept my madness at bay. Kind of. Mostly she just gave me something else to fixate on, and that counted. Right?

Now I just had to catch her.

Stained-glass windows refracted rainbows through the empty halls. Arabella sprinted down them with impressive speed.

Her bare feet slapped loudly against the marble floors.

I pounded after her.

I was larger and faster, but she was frantic and had gotten a head start.

Arabella looked back over her shoulder, and her bloodshot eyes widened, horrid bruises standing out against her skin as she blanched. Sinful lips parted.

Her face contorted with fear, and she whipped her head back around, blue braids flying as she sped up.

My heart rate increased at the sight of her wounds.

She turned the corner, disappeared from view, and I pressed my hand harder against my lips to hold back a scream.

If she’d just calm down, I could take care of her. Fuss over her. Make sure nothing harmed her ever again. I’d protect her from the world if she just let me.

Instead, she ran from me.

Rejected my help.

If she didn’t want the good guy, then why should I give her that? I’d already decided she was mine.

When I’d kissed Aran’s mouth and promised him he’d be my toy, it was Arabella who had melted against me like butter.

She’d agreed.

We’d both tasted it.

And there were repercussions to my ownership.

The petals drifted faster down my neck like whispering silk. If this was how my sweetheart wanted to play it, then she’d get what she was asking for.

I pulled my fingers away from my lips.

Lightning cracked.

Blinding light exploded.

Our footsteps pounded like thunder.

---