Page 153 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

My personality traits were: (1) spiteful, (2) bitch.

When Cobra started making another explicit hand gesture, Ascher smacked him and turned to me. “Sorry about him. He’s not house-trained yet.”

The look Cobra gave him would make lesser men faint.

Ascher just grinned and patted him on the back with a tattooed hand, his smile not dropping even when Cobra’s eyes gained slit pupils and the jewels in his skin flickered to shadow snakes.

It was still one of the great mysteries of the realms how my darling Sadie had seen the psychotic snake bastard and thought, That one’s mine, I love him.

It was one of the main reasons I insisted she go to therapy.

Since she hadn’t left him yet, the therapy was not working. Sure, they were fated mates with a soul bond connecting them or something disgustingly sappy like that. I understood exactly what that meant.

She had the perfect opportunity to crush his spirit.

He’d be so devastated.

Cobra opened his mouth and began to say something vulgar, but John forcibly turned me away from the shifters.

He had a strange, pinched expression on his face. “Ignore them. It’s all going to be fine.”

John switched positions with me so he was next to the shifters and I was standing next to Scorpius.

Scorpius sneered, “No, it will not be fine.” And I jumped as he spoke. “Stay behind me when we start,” he barked.

I blinked.

Then blinked again.

Did he really think I was going to hide behind him for protection? Did he really think I was that type of woman?

John grunted in disagreement at the absurd idea.

Although, I had to go with the evil blind dude for the first part.

You could taste it in the air.

You could see it in the dark clouds.

You could hear it in the unnatural silence.

Something awful was about to go down, and we were caught in the middle of it.

Lambs to the slaughter.

The silence from the normally loud student section made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

My skin prickled with warning.

I crossed my fingers and my toes as we waited to hear what the challenge would be.

Please let it be physical combat. Battle I could handle. Hell, a little adrenaline-driven bloodshed might even be therapeutic.

Or maybe it was a race? That would also be nice.

Finally, Lothaire stopped walking around the perimeter of the area. He stood directly across from us in front of the bleachers, and his voice boomed like he was speaking from directly above us.

“The last person to cross this line loses.” He pointed to a white line on the rocks at his feet.

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