Psycho Gods: Enemies to Lovers Romance

STEAM

Algophilia (noun): a morbid pleasure in the pain either of oneself or of others.

DAY 11, HOUR 20

Scorpius and I sat across from each other in the narrow tub.

When I’d told Scorpius to sit down fully clothed, I’d assumed he’d scoff and tell me to go fuck myself.

I’d thought he’d only wanted to play Protector and Revered, and I’d assumed if he did stay, that he’d leave after a few minutes. At most, I’d thought we’d talk through some things, spend thirty minutes going over our issues, then resume snarling at each other.

I’d been wrong.

Eight hours later, we still sat across from each other.

Neither of us wanted to leave.

Talking to Scorpius was one of the most intimate things I’d ever experienced. Our legs touched because we were both too tall to fit, but it wasn’t sexual.

Both our voices were scratchy from overuse.

I could tell from the way he clenched his jaw that he was worried I was going to try and leave.

He worried for naught.

Neither of us wanted the moment to end.

Scorpius broke the lull in our conversation and said, “It does something to you, never being able to see or understand the colors that everyone seems so in love with. It’s less about the sights themselves and more about feeling disconnected from everyone. Feeling different.”

He tipped his head back and showcased his cut jaw.

The eye tattooed across his neck glowed.

He whispered, “I’ve always felt disconnected from others. Trapped by their perceptions of me and the world.”

I sighed as I rested my head against the wall.

“I know what you mean,” I said after a weighty pause. “Obviously, not about the lack of sight, but I know the feeling of the walls closing in around you—invisible parameters crushing you while everyone lives freely.”

Scorpius glowered like he was suddenly enraged.

Unable to understand his change in demeanor, I kept explaining. “Others decide they know you. They label you a weak princess. A powerless fae. An incapable angel.” I trailed off, lost in memories as I whispered, “A whore.”

He clenched his fists and said darkly, “People act like they understand, but they don’t. They form their opinions and judge you. Nothing you do will change who they’ve decided you are.” He snapped his fingers. “The blind one is weak.” He snapped again. “Destroy the weak.”

I studied the mold that trailed across the ceiling and tried not to think about a fae palace dripping in gold and filled with pain.

I fingered the Necklace of Death. It warmed like it was trying to fill the hole inside my chest.

My voice sounded far away as I spoke. “And they never change. No matter how much you show them differently. They trap you so you can never escape. Some confines have no freedom.”

“All you can do is suffer,” Scorpius said hoarsely. “Endure.”

“And just the act of enduring is an act of strength,” I said.

He narrowed his eyes. “Maybe hurting them is the only freedom available.”

His perspective was fitting.

It didn’t make it any less brutal.

I countered, “Or maybe just surviving is the solution. Maybe you don’t have to hurt them, because just existing to defy their expectations enrages them. You don’t need to inflict the pain—you need to free yourself from them.” I nodded wistfully. “The dream is to build a life that is so satisfying, you forget the hell ever existed.”

He smirked at me. “Says the woman who ate her mother’s heart.”

“I never wanted to kill her,” I whispered.

“You did what you had to do to survive,” he said gruffly. “You took your vengeance. It’s impressive—you should be proud.”

“But I didn’t mean to. Sadie was in danger, and I had to do something because I couldn’t lose her. I wouldn’t survive a life without her.”

Scorpius’s smirk fell.

Intense emotions vibrated between us.

“I’d rather not kill others,” I blurted out awkwardly. “Mother was a monster, and I don’t want to be like her. I don’t want to perpetuate terror like she did. It’s exhausting.”

Scorpius’s frown deepened, the dark circles under his eyes appearing more purple under the fluorescent bulb.

“I’ll kill them for you,” he said casually, like he was talking about the weather.

I squinted at him. “I just said I don’t want them to die.”

“No.” A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You said you didn’t want to be a murderer. They don’t deserve to live for trapping you, and you don’t deserve to worry about becoming like your mother. The solution is simple: I’ll kill them.”

“You better not,” I warned him.

“Don’t worry.” He smirked, and it was vicious. “I won’t tell you when I do.”

“How is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Because I’m killing your enemies for you,” he said.

“It’s not that simple,” I argued. “It’s a morality issue. Can’t you see that?”

He bared his teeth. “I can’t see anything.”

“Har, har. Hilarious.” I rolled my eyes. “Do you seriously have no ability to understand the ethical dilemma of murdering other people? Does it not plague you?”

His grin was alarming. “No.” Long pale fingers reached forward and wrapped around my wrist. “You know I’m going to do terrible things for you, right?” he asked slowly.

I winced. “Please don’t.”

“Too late.” He yanked me forward. “Can we talk like this more often?”

“Yes,” I said automatically. “I’d really like that.”

I sprawled across his chest. His skin was feverish compared to mine, and steam sizzled where we connected.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered, then he slammed his lips against mine.

His fingernails dug into the side of my face as he kissed me like he was trying to devour me.

Pain exploded down my back, and I ignored it.

His teeth bit down on my lower lip, and copper flooded my mouth. “Mine,” Scorpius said.

Half-dazed with pleasure and pain, I pulled my head back, and between gasps, I countered, “I don’t belong to anyone.”

He pinned me against the tub. Pushed my sweatshirt up and dragged his nails down the sensitive skin on my sides.

I trembled with desire.

My head swam. Pain made me lightheaded. I was going to pass out, but I didn’t want it to end.

He tweaked my nipples, and my back arched.

A door slammed.

Metal scraped against metal as the shower curtain was ripped open to reveal two towering men who barely fit in the narrow bathroom.

I pulled myself away from Scorpius and slumped on the other side of the tub gasping for air. Bergamot and musk tingled across my lips.

“What in the holy fucking sun god is going on in here?” Malum scowled down at us. Orion stood beside him with wide eyes and a thoughtful expression on his face.

“We’re fully clothed,” I said as I awkwardly tried to climb over Scorpius’s limbs and get out of the tub.

The blind king reached out and grabbed me. He didn’t let me move.

“You dared to let him touch you without us present?” Malum asked angrily, flames dancing atop his shaved head as he glared at us with disgust like we’d been caught cheating.

I choked.

Scorpius’s voice was razor-sharp. “I’ve told you before not to speak to her like that. Get fucking control of yourself or get out.”

Malum turned and slammed his fist into the bathroom mirror. “What else happened between the two of you while we were gone? It sure as shit didn’t look like nothing.” He gestated wildly.

Both he and Orion were covered head to toe in streaks of vibrant red.

“You don’t have any visible wounds,” I said slowly. “Where have you been? Whose blood are you covered in?”

Malum smirked, and Orion’s eyes filled with guilt.

“Whose blood is that?” I repeated.

Malum countered, “What have you and Scorpius been doing for the last eight hours?”

“We were fucking.’ I climbed out of the tub and elbowed past the kings. “It was filthy, and I came five times.”

Malum made a sound that was somewhere between a dying cow and a screaming goat.

“Actually,” I tossed over my shoulder. “Ten times.”

Malum whimpered.

Orion reached for me, and I skirted around him pointedly, then slammed the bathroom door closed behind me. Malum bellowed on the other side.

“Why do you keep antagonizing him?” Vegar asked, and Zenith shot him a glare like he wasn’t supposed to speak to me.

They were sitting on the floor playing a card game, and the twins were asleep in their beds.

I shrugged. “Because he deserves it.”

The demons nodded like my answer was acceptable and said, “Good work.”

I saluted them and climbed into my bunk.

Sleep claimed me quickly.

That night, I dreamed of a handsome, blind devil with a voice like sin, whose nails dug into my skin as he ravished me. He whispered huskily in my ear and promised to kill for me.

In my dream, I thanked him.