Page 36 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

“You enslaved my daughter.” I chucked a fragment of the chair across the room.

Screaming because I’d lost my grasp on sanity, I reared back and chucked a shard of glass at him as hard as I could.

A hand shot forward, and Dick caught the glass in the air. He swung it lazily back and forth like he was getting ready to fight with it.

“Calm yourself,” Dick said casually as he arched his brow, like I was being irrational and he hadn’t obliterated my existence.

Click.

My fangs descended.

I got ready to rush him.

Dick’s eyes went pure black, and his blue crystal wings flared across his back. Feathers clattered together as he spread his wings wide and rose to his full height.

He was a monster.

As I stalked toward his desk, my feet crunched over the glass, and I imagined it was his bones beneath me.

“You enslaved my daughter,” I repeated softly.

Dick arched his brow. “No, you did. You were the one who wanted her protected. The tattoo accomplishes that. The title of the bond is of no consequence. It makes no difference; I told you everything that mattered. I never lied.”

“You bastard,” I spat. “What do you mean, of course you lied.” I paused then asked with confusion. “Why would you do this?”

He shrugged casually. “Because you asked me to.”

“No,” I snarled. “Answer me honestly.” I pressed my knuckles into the glass top of his desk and leaned forward.

“I did.” He shrugged.

Typical. Dick refused to take responsibility and was putting it all on me.

“Coward!” I whirled and grabbed the second guest chair, and crystal wings clattered as Dick casually stepped to the side and avoided it. “All you do is hide behind your precious gods.”

He chuckled and murmured, “If only you knew.”

The crash echoed loudly in the large office as it exploded against the window.

I picked up a large glass shard from the first chair and chucked it.

Again, he dodged it.

I threw another one.

He caught it.

I threw everything I could get my hands on as I screamed like a lunatic and fantasized about wearing Dick’s flesh as a coat. Mounting his head on my wall. Drinking his blood until he was silent.

He kept dodging glass casually.

When my hand was slick with red like I was wearing gloves, I staggered backward with exhaustion. Heaving breaths shook my chest as I took in my ruined surroundings.

Carnage all around.

“Are you done yet?” Dick’s voice was monotone.

“No.” I spat onto the mangled tile floor.

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