Page 80 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

His fingertips gently pressed against my back as he guided me forward across the uneven rocks of the island, and I slung my arm around Orion’s shoulder. My Revered melted against me.

I should have been relaxed with my mates surrounding me.

I should have been enjoying the runner’s high, which was my favorite part.

My head swiveled to the side as I listened intently to what was happening behind us.

“Ew, you’re sweaty. Don’t touch me,” Arabella groaned as her sweatshirt rustled.

John’s deeper voice taunted back, “Don’t be such a sissy.”

Grunts and slaps. Arabella laughed loudly as she and John wrestled with each other.

“Stop acting like fools. The angels are watching,” Corvus shouted over his shoulder.

Orion and I weren’t the only ones distracted by our slave.

The angel’s wings flapped distantly, and they were on the other side of the island, too far to be paying attention to us. Corvus was just pissed that John had his grubby hands all over her. I agreed with the sentiment.

“Relax, fire ass,” Arabella muttered, and John choked.

Corvus shouted, “What was that?”

No one spoke for the rest of the walk, not even when we entered the academy.

But from the sweatshirts rustling behind me, the closeness of their steps, and the random bouts of laughter, John still had his arm thrown over Arabella’s shoulder.

It was unacceptable.

My skin itched with the urge to hurt John. I wanted him to bleed. Scream. He’d be an appetizer, then I’d turn my attention to the main course: Arabella. She’d beg me so sweetly. I couldn’t wait to taste her tears.

“Careful,” Corvus said as he pulled me to the side and lightning struck down the walls right where I’d been standing.

I raked my hands through my short hair, agitated by how distracted I was lately. My sadomasochism was flaring up with more frequency.

I was satisfied with hurting anyone: the ungodly, random women at the academy, or new recruits. I wasn’t picky. Usually.

Lately, I’d been fixated on hurting a single person. I thought about her as I trained, ate, showered, jacked off, and slept.

Arabella.

My thoughts always spiraled in the same pattern. I’d give her a reason to forget how to breathe. I’d replace her precious little pipe and give her something thicker to choke on.

I shuddered with anticipation as we went to dinner.

The dining hall buzzed with more energy and commotion than usual because of the five tables that had been set up on the dais for the other legions. Students called our names as we walked past. Men and women alike.

I settled into my usual chair, and a woman touched my arm. “Hey Scorpius, want me to come to your room later?”

The back of my neck prickled with awareness.

Tension tightened in my gut.

Something was wrong.

“No. Leave us,” I snarled at the woman as I tried to concentrate on my surroundings. She said something else, but I ignored her and swore because I couldn’t hear Arabella’s annoying breaths.

The slave tattoo wasn’t acting up, so she couldn’t be far away. It didn’t make me feel any better.

---