Page 28 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

He never showed weakness.

Growing up, Scorpius had been bullied ruthlessly for his blindness, since anything different was viewed as deficient. Devils were ignorant and quick to assume weakness even where there wasn’t one.

As a result, Scorpius saw the worst in everyone.

My Protector liked to terrorize people, before they could hurt him. And from the tension in his shoulders, antagonizing Arabella wasn’t coming easily to him like it usually did.

It was the damn tattoo.

The bitch was clearly a murderer and a liar.

Sure, Arabella’s blatant defiance was making it hard for me to think rationally, but it was still obvious that I needed her to submit.

Brutally.

She scowled at my words but pulled her hands away from her tattoo and looked past me and Scorpius. She stared at Orion sadly like he had betrayed her.

Her gaze was locked on my Revered.

Orion made a pained noise in his throat and mouthed, “Sweetheart,” as he took a step toward her.

Her expression cracked as he looked at her pleadingly.

Emotions swirled between them.

My soul ached.

I didn’t like this little moment for them. He was everything to me, and nothing would harm him.

Including her.

Orion reached down and grabbed Arabella. Before she could say anything, he hauled her to her feet and brushed dust off her shoulder like I’d done earlier with Scorpius.

“Don’t be mad, baby,” he whispered and gave her a small smile.

What was with the endearments?

Arabella flinched from his gentle touch like she’d been struck. “You shouldn’t have killed a man for no reason.”

Orion stared down at her without blinking, like he was trying to figure out his next move.

They were stunning together.

Arabella’s pale skin and blue hair contrasted with his golden skin and white-blond hair. Both of them were unnaturally pretty. An image of my dark-bronze skin tangled with theirs in a writhing mess of limbs played in my mind.

I forgot to breathe.

Scorpius tried to pull Orion back, but he lunged forward to avoid his grip. Arabella stumbled as she was knocked backward with a wince.

For a second, she looked just like her boy disguise.

Memories of drowning, punching, force-feeding, and burning her flashed through my mind.

I’d thought we’d been training a male soldier, someone strong who could handle war.

I swallowed bile.

No. She did it to herself.

---