Psycho Devils: Aran’s Story Book 2 (Cruel Shifterverse 5)

The beginning: Shackles—Day 5, hour 4

Flames screamed in the crackling hearth.

There was a bloodstain on the ornate rug beneath my feet.

The room was red and hazy.

Stained glass sparkled.

I’d spent countless nights hyperventilating in this room, but Lothaire’s presence made it seem darker and more depressing than usual.

He’d sucked the life out of the space.

On the ceiling, a black hole swirled lazily.

I stared at the cracks behind Lothaire where Malum’s blood was smeared against the broken wall.

“So,” I asked softly, “do I have to compete, or do I get a pass?”

My eyes wide with fear, shoulders slumped, my body language screamed, My delicate feminine constitution can’t handle any more violence, and I’ll probably pass away from the stress.

In my periphery John narrowed his eyes.

“I’ve just had enough violence for a lifetime.” My voice quivered. “It’s too much. I’m out.”

Scorpius scoffed. Orion’s eyes flashed with concern, and Malum said something under his breath.

Focusing on Lothaire, I crossed my arms protectively and stood small.

I took up less space.

“What?” Lothaire’s scar pulled as he furrowed his brow.

“I don’t have to compete, right?” I asked. “Now that everyone knows I’m a woman, it wouldn’t be safe for me. Especially after all this effort you’ve gone through to protect me and keep me safe.”

Lothaire narrowed his eye.

I breathed out heavily and said, “I can’t fight after everything that happened with Horace.”

I shivered as I thought about what I’d done.

Mere days ago.

In this very room.

It was the second time in my life that I’d killed someone close to me.

Underneath the room’s dusty scents of parchment and cotton, there was a copper tang.

“Arabella,” Lothaire whispered as he took a step toward me.

I picked at my bottom lip and sank into the feelings of worthlessness. Memories of Mother’s lessons scoured my psyche.

Her vitriol.

Arabella was a fae who’d never developed any aptitude for powers like she should have. Sure, if I concentrated hard enough, I could create measly ice claws and ice daggers, but they were nothing in the grand scheme of abilities.

The most powerful ice fae could create avalanches of snow.

I was weak.

I always had been. And now I was also trapped. A rat in a cage.

The walls of Elite Academy were drenched in misery.

You could taste it on the sulfur wind that battered the island. You could feel it in the heat of the lightning that struck the walls.

“Please,” I begged Lothaire as I scratched at my back.

Lothaire scowled and pulled at his thick braid, and curls escaped, then he looked down at me sadly and said, “You’re my daughter.”

Eyes wide, I nodded.

Opal fangs flashed as Lothaire opened his mouth and said, “I’m impressed with your cunning and acting skills, but believe it or not, I wasn’t born a century ago.”

I rose to my full height.

Pulled my upper lip back in a sneer and glared.

Lothaire chuckled. “Since you are my daughter, I’m aware that you’re completely full of shit.” He shook his head. “Admirable, really, to try to use my feelings against me. I’m impressed that you’re smart enough to try it, but that doesn’t mean I’m falling for it.”

I spread my legs wide and took up as much space as possible.

I let him see the hatred on my face and said, “So you’d make your precious daughter fight in a violent competition? That’s messed up.”

Lothaire shrugged. “Honestly, yes. I’ve seen what you can do. Why wouldn’t you compete?”

Where was the misogyny when you actually needed it? “Because I’m a woman,” I said through gritted teeth.

Lothaire arched his eyebrow and smirked like the situation was humorous. “And I’m a vampyre. I don’t see your point.”

It wasn’t funny.

I walked forward and jammed my finger into Lothaire’s chest. “You branded me a fucking slave because you thought I was weak and pathetic. Or did you already forget? Or do you just get to decide my character when it fits into your little agenda?”

Lothaire rested his hand over mine gently, like we were having a tender family moment.

I yanked out of his grip.

Lothaire frowned. “You’re my daughter. And you’re more powerful than you even know. But that doesn’t mean you’re safe from the millions of fae who want to rip out your heart and take your throne.”

“Oh, please, save me the theatrics.” I gritted my teeth. “My life is fucking hell because of your horrible choice in women.”

“Language!” Lothaire yelled.

I screamed, “Fuck you!”

His eye flashed with danger, and he yelled louder, “Language! No child of mine will speak like a common foot soldier.”

“I’m not your child.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No. I’m not. You can’t force me to accept you as my father.”

Sparks crackled in the air around Lothaire as he said, “You don’t need to accept anything. I’m your father. That’s a fact.”

I smiled widely. “False.”

“I’m your father,” Lothaire whispered and held his hand out, like he was offering something to me.

He waited for me to take it.

I didn’t move.

An empty feeling expanded in my chest.

It spread.

“Force me to compete and we will never have a relationship. This is your last chance,” I whispered.

The black hole swirled above our heads.

Light filtered through stained glass and cast a network of geometric shapes across fabrics. Curtains billowed in the cracked windows. Fire leaped in the hearth.

Lothaire dragged his hand over his chin and scoffed like I was ridiculous. Then he chuckled.

He laughed.

At me.

At my feelings.

The emptiness became a cliff.

“You don’t get to choose not to compete,” Lothaire said with finality. “The gods personally handpicked the legions, and you were named a part of this one. You’re already a member. There’s no choice to be made. Your fate has been decided.”

The cliff became a free fall.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Nodded.

And walked backward across the room to put space between us.

The other recruits were standing with their legs parted. Heads down. Arms behind their backs respectfully.

I adopted the same position.

Lothaire kept talking to me like we were having a conversation. “You are strong, daughter. We can use this to your advantage. Being in a legion has many benefits. I’ve thought about it, and everything is working out for the best.”

I nodded as I stared at the floor.

Lothaire had made his choice.

I was making mine.

“This is good, Arabella.” There was a note of desperation in his voice.

Silence.

When it became clear that I wasn’t going to respond, Lothaire addressed the rest of the room, “This legion is an honor for each one of you. You’ll be connected to one another for the rest of your immortal lives. You’ll be stronger together. Unbeatable.”

The flames screamed.

Lothaire waited for an answer.

“Whatever you say, sir,” I said in a monotone voice.

Lothaire flinched like I’d hit him. “I swear you will know peace one day, my daughter, but it must be earned with blood and pain. That is how our world works and sheltering you won’t change that fact.”

I replied in a monotone voice, “Yes, sir.”

Horace’s desperate gurgles as I stabbed him.

Tara’s sightless eyes.

A snap of a finger, the half warriors dead.

“WHORE” carved into my flesh.

Villagers grunting as they died.

Anxiety and depression consuming me.

The slave tattoo on my hip.

Fighting monsters in the shifter realm.

Mother’s endless flames burning but never leaving any marks.

“Of course, sir,” I whispered, “You’re correct. I have not known suffering.”

Lothaire’s ability to forget that he’d left me with my mad mother was inspiring and convenient. He claimed he cared. Yet he didn’t care enough to see the truth right in front of him?

Bullshit.

There was no room for him in my life.

Some relationships require a lot of patience and forgiveness. Sadly, I’m not a good person and I don’t care.

Sadie had shown me what it was like to be unequivocally cared for, loved without expectation, and accepted without judgment.

Lothaire wasn’t offering that.

He was nothing to me.

Lothaire huffed exasperatedly like I was a naïve child who was too impatient to understand I just had to fight for my life one more time, then I’d be happy.

I didn’t bother to argue.

Lothaire whispered, “I’m proud to call myself your father.” He crossed the middle of the room and walked toward me.

The other recruits shifted uncomfortably at his desperate, pathetic words.

I stepped back.

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” Lothaire said as he reached for me. “No matter what you say or feel, I will always be there for you.”

“Okay, sir. Sounds good.” My voice was icy. Normalize gaslighting men.

He sighed heavily.

A sudden thought hit me, and I looked up at him. “Sir, I need to go back and find my enchanted ring and disguise myself before anyone else sees me as a woman.”

Malum made a rude noise and I ignored him.

“No,” Lothaire said. “The Legionnaire Games are a showcase for the gods. You don’t hide yourself before a god if you want to live. They already know everything about your identity.”

I shook my head. “But, sir, everyone at the academy thinks—”

Lothaire cut me off. “It doesn’t matter what the sheep think. You should be concerned about the gods.”

We stared at each other.

A monster screamed in my mind, but the emptiness in my chest was more demanding.

I lowered my head respectfully and stared at the floor. “Yes, sir.”

Lothaire reached a hand forward like he was going to touch me, but then it fell away back to his side. Lothaire whirled around and ordered, “Fall in line, soldiers. We need to announce the games to the rest of the academy.”

We moved into formation.

Malum stood in front of me, and his wide shoulders blocked my view of Lothaire. A hand rested comfortingly on my shoulder. I looked back to find John smiling at me sadly.

Leaning into his touch, I closed my eyes.

Took a deep breath.

The last sliver of a child’s hope that her father would shield her from harm turned to ashes.

Died.

And there was nothing left.

Just a gaping hole in the center of my chest where my heart should have been.