Page 245 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

I was lying in a sticky puddle of blood. Everything itched. My clothes were crusted to sweat-soaked skin.

Zenith and Vegar lay on the floor beside me.

Each of us was on one of the makeshift bloody mattress pads from the first competition. They were marginally better than the floor.

Our room reeked of copper and desperation.

The demons panted loudly and swore through gritted teeth.

I moaned brokenly.

Malum snapped, “Help her, Luka!” His head was bent low, face scrunched with concentration, as he knelt and stitched up Vegar’s wounds.

“I’m trying!” Luka yelled back frantically.

Everyone was panicking.

Orion was on his knees, stitching up Zenith.

Scorpius sat between his mates with his jaw clenched as he struggled to hold the demons still. Every few seconds, he released them, reached over, and grabbed my arm like he wanted to make sure I was still there.

I didn’t have time to dwell on the bizarre gesture.

I whimpered as the pain intensified.

Orion made a pained noise and looked over at me with wide, concerned eyes.

“One breath at a time. Breathe slowly,” Luka said gruffly as he concentrated on stitching up the gash on my thigh. His movements were smooth and precise.

I made a point of inhaling as fast as I could. Just to spite him.

I didn’t like when men told me what to do, it was a trigger.

Luka crinkled his eyes and looked down at me like I was an idiot.

A scream bubbled up my throat.

I bit down on my lower lip until my teeth poked through and stabbed my chin.

The stabbing, pulling sensation of the needle was pleasurable compared to the absolute agony raking down my back.

It was the shower all over again.

Absolute.

Torture.

And I had no clue why my spinal cord was fracturing inside me.

Luka finished closing the gaping wound on my leg. “I need to do your chest,” he said gruffly as he pointed at the gash that traveled across my collarbone.

I couldn’t remember if it was from a sword or a talon.

Swallowing another scream, I gave him a shaky nod.

Sweat poured down my forehead, and I wanted to yell at him to fix my back. But unless he had a doctorate in dark enchantment, he couldn’t do anything to help me.

Some burdens weren’t meant to be shared.

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