Page 49 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

“Fuck you,” I snapped.

Malum took a step closer to my bed and said, “How dare you talk to my mate like that?”

My life felt like one never-ending argument with the kings. It was like bashing my head against a brick wall. You couldn’t reason with narcissistic, Machiavellian psychopaths.

John cracked his knuckles in warning.

“I told him not to call me Arabella.” I rubbed at the beginning of a tension headache.

“When will you learn?” Malum asked roughly. “We don’t care what you want, Arabella.”

I flinched as he emphasized the name, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

A cold sweat broke out across my hairline.

“Arabella, you’re so weak,” Mother whispered as she snapped her fingers and set me on fire. The terrible cold came after as my body shook from stress on the icy palace floor.

I blinked and realized John was holding me and rubbing comforting circles against my back.

I slumped against him.

Over John’s shoulder, Malum scowled as flames covered his arms like sleeves.

“You don’t own me,” I said forcefully. “I’m just temporarily enslaved to you. There’s a difference.”

Scorpius scoffed.

Orion kept staring.

“Excuse me?” John asked as he went still in my arms.

“Um.” I gnawed on the inside of my mouth. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Malum laughed cruelly. “There’s no difference.”

My stomach cramped with nausea.

The devils didn’t talk about ownership in the way Sadie’s mates talked about her, which was with an edge of obsession and devotion that was kind of endearing. They called me property like I was the muck beneath their boots.

If I had any self-esteem, it would have been crushed.

Good thing I had none.

The air around John shimmered with darkness as he pulled away and asked darkly, “You’re their slave?”

Across the room, Zenith and Vegar stopped making out and turned to me with startled expressions.

I grimaced and rubbed at the back of my neck.

The flames in the fireplace screamed in a frenzy, and I pretended they were aggressively yelling compliments at me. You’re so pretty and smart. You’re so cool. You have an impeccable sense of style.

No. Coping was not a linear process.

“Oh, did Arabella not already tell you?” Scorpius taunted, and his high cheekbones were sharp as glass as he smiled.

His handsomeness was captivating, like a grotesque disease that made you stare in horror.

He pulled down the corner of his sweatpants, and his Adonis belt gleamed in the firelight.

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