Page 21 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

The student’s eyes were glazed, and three different glowing cigarettes hung from his mouth. From his disheveled look, he’d been partying for days. A green tie was askew, and his white shirt was unbuttoned to his navel. It clung to his narrow, sweat-soaked frame.

I could barely see his face in the flashing neon lights.

It didn’t matter what he looked like.

His fingers dug harder into my flesh as he pressed his sweat-soaked body flush against mine. One of his hands groped at my chest.

Did he think my tits were fish that were going to flop away? Because he was grabbing at them like they were.

“Why?” Horace asked from nearby.

I shoved my hips forward and ground myself against the man. Grabbed a joint from his lips and pushed it beside my pipe. Inhaled with all my might and squeezed my eyes shut.

“You a slut?” the man whispered against my ear as he groped harder at my chest. My back didn’t even hurt.

I grinned because his words went well with my new maladjusted depressed girl aesthetic.

Finally, someone got it.

“Yeah. I am.” My voice was scratchy from smoke inhalation.

I rolled my hips faster, and he struggled to match my pace. Bodies crushed around us and pushed us together until I didn’t know where I began and he ended.

Sweat dripped down my face.

A foreign drug filled my bloodstream, and Horace didn’t say another word.

The problem was someone else did.

“What do you think you’re doing? Slave,” Scorpius whispered against the shell of my ear.

Streaks of pain stabbed down my back.

I didn’t open my eyes.

The body I was pressed against was ripped away, and I staggered back with confusion.

I opened my eyes.

My enemies were alive.

Neon green flashed.

Orion wrapped his hands around my dance partner’s head.

Darkness.

Neon red flashed.

Orion snapped his neck.

Darkness.

Neon purple flashed.

A man was sprawled dead in the middle of the dance floor. White shirt unbuttoned, tie askew. One of his white horns was snapped in half.

Darkness.

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