Page 229 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

We were devils of the House of Malum.

We hoarded and protected what was ours.

Violently.

No exceptions.

Chapter 32

Aran

POST PARTY

Metamorphosis—Day 42, hour 5

The music shut off.

I sat up in bed with a gasp as I looked around. From the swirly feeling in my head and the drunk laughter outside the door, the last partygoer had just left. Luka was sprawled out snoring beside me.

The room was pitch-black.

From the sounds of rustling bedding and heavy breathing, all my teammates were sleeping peacefully.

I had to pee.

Unfortunately, my bedding had other ideas. After ten minutes of wrestling with my comforter (and losing), my head was spinning and the world was topsy-turvy.

Finally, I collapsed onto the carpet on all fours.

I giggled to myself like a creature.

I was 100 percent still drunk.

Stealthy, like a ninja, I snuck across the room toward the bathroom.

Bam. I slammed my shin into a box of demon brew bottles, and I went down like a dead weight.

The glasses clinked loudly, and I moaned like a rabid squirrel.

Zenith muttered something derogatory in his sleep, then proceeded to let out the loudest fart I’d ever heard.

I snorted with laughter.

Stumbling as the room spun around me like a top, it took me three tries to open the door.

When I finally slipped inside, I gave the wall a high-five.

Pride filled me.

I’d done it. I’d done the impossible.

I opened the door.

Sun god, it was hard being such a strong, competent, accomplished young woman. I hated to say it, but I was starting to realize that people were intimidated by my prowess.

Some people just had that “it” factor.

I was some people.

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