Page 61 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

“I heard she’s insane like her mother.”

“She probably pretended to be a guy so she could get close to the kings. What a slut.”

“I heard she’s powerless and doesn’t even have any fae abilities. She’s desperate for power. She’s probably been fucking the men.”

“As soon as she sets foot in the fae realm, she’s dead.”

“She must be so embarrassed right now.”

Ice crept up my throat, and the numbness became a ledge.

The ledge was razor thin.

I was free-falling.

John grabbed my shoulders and forcibly turned me so I was facing him and not the rest of the hall.

Sandalwood surrounded me as he stepped closer. His dark eyes were intense. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine.” I tried to suck on my pipe, and I missed my mouth.

John patted my back. “Don’t fall apart now.” He flashed his dimples and whispered, “It will ruin our street cred.”

I choked. “What street cred?”

“Exactly.” He nodded gravely. “Honestly, I can’t be your friend if you’re going to fall apart over nothing. It’s bad for business.”

“I’m not falling apart,” I hissed with annoyance. “And what business?”

“You don’t want to know. If I tell you, then I’ll have to kill you.” He playfully ruffled my curls.

I swatted at his hand and pushed him away. “You’re so weird.”

“Okay, Smurf.” His dimples deepened.

I smacked his hand away from my hair. “You talk a lot of crap for a man who shares a name with unidentified corpses.”

He arched a dark brow. “Oh, please, like Aran is much better. Who even spells it with two as? You don’t see me spelling my name J-o-n or G-o-n.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” I rolled my eyes.

The rich scents of bergamot and musk were the only warning I got.

Fingers squeezed the back of my neck.

Nails dug into my skin.

Scorpius sneered into my ear, “Shut the hell up, Arabella. Lothaire is speaking and some of us are trying to listen to what’s being said.” His warm breath made me shiver.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Orion whispered as he tried to pull his psychotic mate off me. It didn’t work.

With John in front of me, no one could see the way the king gripped me.

His fingers were warm against my cold skin.

Scorpius tightened his grip. He touched me like he owned me—held me like I was his.

“How about you shut up?” I tried discreetly to pull my head out of his grip, but it was like wrenching against a steel wall. “And don’t call me that.”

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