Page 53 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

“I don’t have to compete, right?” I asked. “Now that everyone knows I’m a woman, it wouldn’t be safe for me. Especially after all this effort you’ve gone through to protect me and keep me safe.”

Lothaire narrowed his eye.

I breathed out heavily and said, “I can’t fight after everything that happened with Horace.”

I shivered as I thought about what I’d done.

Mere days ago.

In this very room.

It was the second time in my life that I’d killed someone close to me.

Underneath the room’s dusty scents of parchment and cotton, there was a copper tang.

“Arabella,” Lothaire whispered as he took a step toward me.

I picked at my bottom lip and sank into the feelings of worthlessness. Memories of Mother’s lessons scoured my psyche.

Her vitriol.

Arabella was a fae who’d never developed any aptitude for powers like she should have. Sure, if I concentrated hard enough, I could create measly ice claws and ice daggers, but they were nothing in the grand scheme of abilities.

The most powerful ice fae could create avalanches of snow.

I was weak.

I always had been. And now I was also trapped. A rat in a cage.

The walls of Elite Academy were drenched in misery.

You could taste it on the sulfur wind that battered the island. You could feel it in the heat of the lightning that struck the walls.

“Please,” I begged Lothaire as I scratched at my back.

Lothaire scowled and pulled at his thick braid, and curls escaped, then he looked down at me sadly and said, “You’re my daughter.”

Eyes wide, I nodded.

Opal fangs flashed as Lothaire opened his mouth and said, “I’m impressed with your cunning and acting skills, but believe it or not, I wasn’t born a century ago.”

I rose to my full height.

Pulled my upper lip back in a sneer and glared.

Lothaire chuckled. “Since you are my daughter, I’m aware that you’re completely full of shit.” He shook his head. “Admirable, really, to try to use my feelings against me. I’m impressed that you’re smart enough to try it, but that doesn’t mean I’m falling for it.”

I spread my legs wide and took up as much space as possible.

I let him see the hatred on my face and said, “So you’d make your precious daughter fight in a violent competition? That’s messed up.”

Lothaire shrugged. “Honestly, yes. I’ve seen what you can do. Why wouldn’t you compete?”

Where was the misogyny when you actually needed it? “Because I’m a woman,” I said through gritted teeth.

Lothaire arched his eyebrow and smirked like the situation was humorous. “And I’m a vampyre. I don’t see your point.”

It wasn’t funny.

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