Page 64 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

From a purely sexual standpoint, I’d do them.

Their weapons matched their shimmering blue wings. Feathers clattered loudly as they walked forward, and the sound was something between the tinkling of bells and gemstones rattling together. It was expensive. Dangerous.

They stopped in front of Lothaire and bowed their heads. He gestured for them to fall into line facing forward, and they marched into position like well-trained soldiers.

A large tan angel with shoulder length dark hair stood in the front.

He slowly turned his head.

I inhaled sharply.

He had heterochromia. One of his eyes was so dark it looked black and the other was neon yellow. With his catlike sculpted features, the effect was startling.

Even more shocking, his blue wings had streaks of black.

His sword crackled and steamed, and I leaned closer to get a better look. The smell of frost hit me before cool air nipped my face.

Their swords were made from ice.

The angel with the mismatched eyes looked over, and I realized I was staring.

I grimaced. His entire persona was menacing.

“Form a line, academy legion,” Lothaire hissed like he was embarrassed.

We’d completely fallen out of formation when we’d been arguing with one another, and we quickly reassembled.

One black eye and one yellow eye flashed as the angel sneered at our legion.

Up close, his black feathers looked clear, almost like crystals.

“The devil legion,” Lothaire announced the next legion, and I turned forward.

Four men entered.

Like Malum, they were all about seven feet tall with deep-bronze skin and buzz cuts. Apparently devils ran tall. Every inch of their exposed skin was covered in Latin words. They even had words tattooed across their cheekbones.

That was where the similarities ended.

They were lean. In contrast, Malum and Scorpius were covered in striated muscles and looked more like enchanted comic-book warriors than flesh-and-blood men. Even Orion had a whipcord strength that these men were missing.

The devils marched forward down the aisle toward Lothaire. Flaming broadswords were strapped across their backs.

Up close, their features were harsh and ugly.

Unattractive men were kind of hot. I’d fuck them.

They were like Malum’s ugly stepsisters; where his features were patrician and regal like he was carved from bronze, theirs were too wide for their faces.

They bowed to Lothaire, then stomped into a line beside us.

“Corvus from the House of Malum,” the man in the front of the line said coldly as he stared straight ahead at the hall.

Malum muttered back, “Tal from the House of Dar.”

Aggression swirled between them.

I waited for something to happen, aka prayed Tal would accidentally stab Malum with his sword.

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