Page 235 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

The worst part was I’d slept like a babe. Hands down best sleep of my life.

I felt like I’d been taken care of. Pampered. Cared for.

Which made no sense.

Because I wasn’t.

Now, as the harsh scarlet light of the eclipse washed over me, dark memories prodded and poked at my psyche.

The haze was getting less linear and more circular.

Everything was jumbled.

The marble floor of the fae palace was icy beneath my sprawled limbs, and everything hurt.

Flames pulled me apart.

Mother launched into one of her mad rambles. “They thought they could force me out, but look what I became. Me, powerless? Unworthy?” She cackled. “Can you even imagine?”

“Mercy,” I begged her.

Blue flames covered every inch of my skin. They never burned.

Mother spoke like she hadn’t heard me. “It’s so sad how weak you are. So much weaker than I was at your age. Twelve years old and all you do is whine and complain. You’ll never even get the chance to fail like I did.”

The memory was so vibrant and crystal clear that it felt more like reality than the grass beneath my bare feet.

I aggressively grabbed my calves and pressed my forehead to my shins as I stretched.

A stitch popped.

You’re in the arena. It’s the day of the third competition. Stay present.

It didn’t work.

The day after the party, Malum had watched me climb out of his bed with a worried expression.

Like he cared. Men were so audacious.

For the next three days, we’d trained like our lives depended on it. We’d run until our feet cramped and lifted boulders until our hands were blistered.

Malum had kept asking me if I wanted to rest. He’d even offered to let me sit out of the runs so I could heal. Orion kept holding doors open for me, and Scorpius had stopped sneering at me and started sneering at people who bumped into me in the halls.

So. Bizarre.

In response to Malum’s inane question about needing rest, I’d sprinted the fastest and set the pace. The kings had run beside me in companionable silence.

So strange.

Everything was getting all jumbled.

Each night since, I’d fallen asleep on the floor by the hearth as flames screamed expletives at me.

No one talked about the three men who were brutalized because I’d consented to their touch.

Yesterday, I’d seen one of the blue-haired men walking alone in the hallway. The other men were probably recovering somewhere.

His face was so swollen that I wouldn’t have been able to recognize him if not for his blue hair. He’d whimpered when he’d seen me and quickly limped away.

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