Page 134 of Her Rabid Beasts

He cuts me a surprised look and I return him a dark one. We both know it’s true. That she has an inexplicable draw. That, if I was not her mate, I would still be drawn to her. Still… seek her out as fish seek out ocean currents.

Lyle is fighting that draw, but he’s cracking. Deeply. What I saw of their time together has me certain of that. She has him by the cock now. Literally.

Right now, I fight her off like I fight off madness: just barely.

The lion’s hands are curled into fists as Aurelia’s cry of pain echoes around us. Under our skin and into our bones. I pat him sympathetically on the back, keeping close in case he wants to take out his aggression on me.

“I want to see her,” he says through gritted teeth. But he doesn’t rise from his desk.

Is he asking for advice?

To give him some privacy with his internal battle, I stride to the bay windows and look out at the gathering shadows of dusk over the academy oval. The floodlights come on one by one, illuminating the grounds for the guards to see at night. “Is that a good idea?”

“Is it a good idea,” he repeats like it’s a slur.

“If I smell her blood, I may not like the result.”

“What do you mean?” Lyle’s voice is suddenly sharp, as if he’s glad I’ve given him something else to focus on.

“She hasn’t bled while she’s been here. Did you know that?”

He’s silent, because of course he didn’t fucking know. Of course I’m the only one who’s monitoring that, waiting for that like I wait for a hunter’s moon.

“You mean she hasn’t menstruated? At all? But the heats?—”

“She hasn’t had a real heat either. Not here.”

He swears, and I hear him bringing out his phone and sending a text. Probably to Theresa to start monitoring the female student’s cycles.

“I’ve never seen a libido like hers. She’s perfectly healthy?—”

“Is she?” I turn around then and eye him, because he, more than anyone, should know that the state of a beast’s mind is, in some cases, more important than their physical health.

He visibly pales under my stare. “She’s too stressed for her body to even think about ovulating.”

“I’m glad you’ve had the epiphany,” I reply smoothly.

The knowledge settles between us like a sheet of ice and every instinct of mine, and I’m sure his, roars at us to help her, to heal her, to feed and hide and care for her until she’s well again.

I think of her face as her bones were broken. That look of shock flashing briefly before being overcome by anguish. I could have broken Savage’s neck for doing that. Xander’s too.

That feeling of violence towards my brothers stuns me a little. Nothing comes above my brothers, not ever. Not until a few hours ago.

I have to blow out a cold, cold breath.

My psychotic ghost suddenly seizes. Standing, but having full tonic-clonic shakes until he starts to blur at the edges. He splits himself into two ghosts, and I turn around to stare at it. At them. They’re both balding, stringy-haired, emaciated creatures with grey skin, identical in every way except for what they’re doing. One is cackling madly, jumping up and down and chanting an evil song about death and decay.

While the other… just stares at me from beneath his black eyelashes. A hard, cold stare. A malevolent smile cuts along his thin lips as he fixates on me. Blood drips from his fingers.

“Stop,” I rasp. My mouth is suddenly bone dry, and my hands are suddenly… sweating? No. No. No.

“What?” Lyle asks, dragging me back into the room and reminding me of the fact that these creatures I see are not real.

Not real. They never have been.

My name is Scythe Kharkorous. My brother is Savage Fengari. My brother is Xander Drakos. My brother is Lyle Pardalia. I am real. The ghosts are not. I am real.

“Scythe.” Lyle’s voice is as sharp as a needle in the ass.

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