Page 25 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

Violence swirled.

“Calm down,” Orion whispered to Scorpius and gently pushed him backward. My blind mate nodded and took a step away.

Orion slowly turned, and his expression softened. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” he whispered breathily to Arabella.

Scorpius and I scoffed.

He was such a manipulative bastard.

Arabella’s eyes glossed over as she instinctively smiled up at him. Her expression changed like she remembered he’d just snapped a man’s neck.

She leaned away from him and whispered, “Um, you just killed a man.”

Orion’s gentle expression darkened, and his eyes flashed with hurt that she was questioning his action. He stared down at her like he was lost.

She was hurting my Revered’s feelings.

The never-ending well of violence inside me expanded, and fire spread across my shoulders.

“You dare treat Orion so rudely?” I asked as the hall became feverishly warm. “You trap us by tying us to your disgusting presence, then dare to scoff at my Revered? He’s everything, and you’re nothing.”

I poured all my malice and hatred into my words.

Arabella chuckled softly, and the sound was husky. “All I did was point out that he murdered someone. Also, you think I’d want to be tied to your literal flaming ass for all of eternity? I couldn’t think of a worse fate for myself.”

Scorpius sneered, “Then why aren’t you afraid? You’re at our mercy.”

“And we have none,” I promised.

Flame shadows flickered across black marble, and for a second, dark-blue eyes shuttered as they met mine. From her expression, she was remembering how she’d boiled alive beneath my might.

The moment passed, and blue eyes became black.

Empty.

Ice cold.

She said in a monotone voice, “Because I don’t care. Never have.” Arabella laid her arched cheekbone against the floor as she exhaled smoke.

She grinned, and it wasn’t a pleasant expression.

Dust particles floated in the hall and shimmered as stained glass cast colorful shadows across my mates.

I’d never noticed how beautiful the academy was. It was peaceful. The architecture was grand and artistic, the perfect space for silent contemplation.

I shook my head at my whimsical thoughts.

I was losing my mind.

The slave tattoo must still be affecting me, because this was beyond weird.

I didn’t have peaceful thoughts. Ever.

And while I freaked out, Arabella lounged like a pampered princess that didn’t know the meaning of suffering.

She was a drug addict, and from what I’d seen on the dance floor, she was a slut.

She had no discipline. Sure, she’d trained beside us, but it had only been for two months, which was no time in the grand scheme of things.

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