Psycho Academy : Aran’s Story Book 1 (Cruel Shifterverse 4)

Thunder cracked with such ferocity the warm bed vibrated beneath me.

Red lights flashed in the small room, and an enchantment made it sound like a male was shouting at me from all corners of the room.

The voice boomed, “You have five minutes to proceed to the great hall for the reckoning. Five minutes until the reckoning. Lateness will not be tolerated.”

Glaring at the black hole swirling on the ceiling, I fantasized about banging my face again into the headboard until I lost consciousness.

Anything called a reckoning was not something I wanted to be a part of. Especially a reckoning at a mythical, supernatural academy known for its violence.

It made my homicidal impulses flare up. Since I was a little girl, fear always made me want to kill things.

I never pretended to be normal.

Instead of letting my monster loose, which was banging in my mental cage and screaming bloody murder, I focused on the peace of my everyday morning routine.

Stumbling into the bathroom, I splashed water on my face, slapped myself, scrubbed my teeth, spent a long minute smoking on my pipe with my eyes closed, then pulled on the black sweat suit and dragged my fingers through my short, curly hair.

It still shocked me, the harsh edge of my jaw and hardness in my face.

My natural features were disgustingly girly, but my enchanted disguise was badass.

As a girl, I was born to breed.

As a man, I was cold and hard. My features reflected how I felt on the inside—angry, depressed, dead. Most importantly, empty.

With a few more slaps to the face, I channeled toxic masculinity. The key to acting like you had a dick was being a dick.

I didn’t make the rules.

The enchanted voice bellowed, “Two minutes until the reckoning. Proceed to the great hall NOW.”

Swearing under my breath, I realized there were no shoes in the closet.

Dark marble was cold against the pads of my bare feet as I hurried out of my room, into the bustling hall. A crowd of people hurried forward in a silent, frantic rush through the black and gold.

The stained-glass windows and chandeliers refracted light across the colorful people in a way that made it seem like a dream.

Crack.

Lightning flashed and slammed down the walls in a fiery burst that made the hair on my arms stand up.

The hall reeked of ozone and old parchment, reminiscent of a library on fire.

For a long moment, I stood still and inhaled the caustic scents, letting them sink into my bones.

A lost soul in the glittering melee.

That was, if I even had a soul to lose.

Bodies rushed around me, and no one gave the lightning a second look. The two dozen men and women were rushing forward toward two gilded, arched doors at the end of the long hall.

All wore matching black sweat suits.

All were barefoot.

Hour one, and they had already stripped us of our individuality.

Wonderful.

With another deep drag of my pipe, I followed the stampede, but I refused to run like an imbecile.

After twenty-four years of surviving through what felt like Armageddon, the last thing I wanted to do was go back to school.

That was just embarrassing.

Growing up, I’d had the best fae tutors in the realm and had succeeded in the standardized tests at sixteen.

I scored first in battle strategy, an achievement that had made me more valuable to the fae elite who wanted to breed me.

Mother might have been the queen, but men led the military, and they’d told me my role was to birth the next great male general.

I might have been a royal, but above all, I was a birthing vessel.

But fae births were extremely rare, so once they were old enough to ovulate, women were expected to work hard to become fertile. Dangerous enchantments were injected into wombs, hordes of doctors studied cycles, while the men rutted constantly in an attempt to achieve the impossible.

I would have been a fertility experiment for my entire immortal life.

So I’d made the only rational choice I could. I’d run away.

I wished I could flee now because this academy had nothing to offer me.

Education had never taught me how not to be a monster. I’d never learned how to not let the rage overwhelm me. How to stop myself from doing the unthinkable.

It had taught me nothing useful.

I didn’t need school. I needed training and answers; I needed something that no one could give me.

Walking down the glimmering hall of the Academy, I might as well have been walking backward.

Ripped away from my chosen family.

Alone and miserable.

Trapped.

A man bumped into me, and I grimaced as the enchanted wound on my back burned.

Lately, my back had been hurting more frequently. It didn’t just burn when I was turned on, which was how Mother had said it would work. It ached every second of every day.

Maybe she’d fucked up?

It was a new enchantment after all.

Another gift of psychological torture from my dear mother. The letters carved into my skin were a constant reminder that an entire realm of sadistic fae were searching for me.

They were desperate to rip out my heart and take my throne.

I didn’t have time to play student.

A booming voice echoed down the hall, “One minute until the reckoning.”

People broke out into a run, and I rolled my eyes but refused to hurry. I would not debase myself by scurrying like a rat tethered to the whim of an enchanted voice.

The mass of flailing limbs shoved me through the gilded entrance.

“All newcomers, wait in the line” boomed louder as the enchanted voice echoed off the high, arched ceiling.

The jostling stopped as we filed into a short line. The doors slammed shut behind us.

Once again, I gaped.

The space was grand. A massive black brick room with high, arched ceilings; gold accents; massive, twinkling chandeliers; and long, stained-glass windows.

Just like in the hall, each window was an ornate mosaic; however, there were six windows and each portrayed a person. Three men on one side, three women on the other.

The three men each had a sun behind his head, and the three women each had a moon. Throughout all the glass, what appeared to be black ribbon sparkled and twined around them all.

The dark-red shadows from the eclipse shed a haunting light across the massive room.

There was no change in the sky’s brightness to delineate night and day. Instead, the lunar eclipse was dark and insidious, eating up the cosmos with its glowing presence.

A massive grandfather clock on the wall showed it was 5:00 a.m.

However, even more disturbing than the early time was the massive tree that jutted from the marble floor like an insidious growth. Gnarled white branches reached toward students with an evil design.

The centerpiece of the hall, the tree coiled up to the four-story-tall, high ceiling.

There was nothing pretty about it.

Split down the center with a black scorch mark, the tree looked like lightning had struck it and was barren of leaves. It appeared dead.

Two long marble tables that spanned the length of the room flanked the centerpiece tree on both sides. One table had purple chairs and decoration, while the other was green.

I estimated about one hundred people were seated between the two tables.

Something divided them.

With matching black outfits, it was hard to distinguish differences, but you could sense a separation. Maybe it was the way they glared across the tables at each other, or maybe it was something else.

The people in the purple seats sat straighter, heads higher, and postures rigid.

The people in the green seats sat meaner, hunched lower, faces hardened.

Two sides split like the scorched tree between them.

But they weren’t the only division.

To the far right, there was a small dais that had a much smaller table. The chairs were more intricate and shone gold underneath the dark eclipse.

Only seven men sat at it.

High above everyone else, they glared down with sneers across their faces like overlords.

Even a hundred yards away, I could smell the toxic masculinity wafting off them.

They reeked.

If the people in purple were prim and the people in green were hardened, then the men in the high gold seats were cruel.

They were different.

Seven massive men. The unnatural width of their shoulders and muscles strained their sweatshirts indecently.

My own clothes hung baggy and loose on my frame.

Even though my disguise made my shoulders appear wider and chest larger, I still had the narrow, lean build of my mother.

I might not have manifested any fae element, but I shared her blood in my unmistakable build and unique coloring.

Lithe and genteel.

Royal.

No matter how I pretended otherwise, I looked just like her. She also was a crazy bitch, and I was self-aware enough to know I, too, was fucked up in the head.

She’d bred me in her image.

A soft, feminine figure that was perfect for being shown off on the arm of an elite fae. Weak and lean, not too strong so my future husband wouldn’t feel emasculated when he violently tried to breed me multiple times a day.

He’d be in charge.

A familiar prickle of heat crawled up my neck, and I focused on counting my breaths.

One. Two. Three.

I wasn’t in the fae realm anymore. I was safe.

Kind of.

Sure, I was the reigning queen, but I was disguised, and no one knew who I was.

It will be okay, I lied to myself.

Sweat streaked across my palms, and I wiped them on my sweatpants. The perspiration reminded me of blood. It reminded me of the other time I’d wiped my palms across a torn dress, until it was covered in red streaks and gore.

Mother’s heart in my mouth.

Steel rattled inside my mind, and my monster screamed. It always woke up when I thought about that awful act, like it was its pride and joy. The best thing it had ever done.

Five. Four. Three. Exhale.

Sun god, I was a mess.

Unfriendly faces filled the hall and stared at me.

Dragging my shaking hands through my short, curly hair, I glared back with indifference.

Forced my cheeks to relax and my eyes to look cold.

There were men and women of all sizes and races with unique coloring, but none had blue hair. From the way some people inspected me with something close to flippant curiosity on their faces, my vibrant turquoise curls were making me stand out.

The sneering students looked downright evil against the backdrop of the moon and with their eyes flickering as they sized one another up.

Everything glowed with a vitriolic haze, and the silence in the hall was sweltering.

There was no buzz of talking.

No excitement.

Just a massive gothic hall in a foreign realm with about a hundred people glaring at one another.

The marble floor was cold beneath my bare feet.

I inspected the students. Most people’s attention was focused on the seven men at the dais.

More specifically, at the man who sat in the center.

He was larger than everyone else, and a tattoo of a dagger wrapped around the darkly tanned skin of his neck. It was an intricate design that I’d never seen before.

But it wasn’t what made people stare.

His features were severe.

Harsh and sharp, with an aristocratic edge so perfect it seemed like he’d been carved from a heavy element.

Not marble; that’s too soft.

I narrowed my eyes as I tried to figure out what he reminded me of.

Red flames danced across his bronze fingers, and he glowed with heat. Literally. Fire trailed across his tanned skin in a fucked-up dance.

He’s carved from lava.

He looked like he was born from a volcano, flames and fire carved into a deadly pyroclastic flow that formed a cruelly beautiful male.

Gold hardware curved across the top of his pointed fae ears; it was ear decoration I’d never seen before.

Even though he was fae, he wasn’t from the fae realm; that was for sure.

Anyone who looked like him would have been a celebrity. The fae coveted beautiful things after all, and while his beauty was impossibly harsh, it was still enchanting.

Handsome.

Like a glowing machine gun.

Before the bullets ripped through skin and muscle and shattered bone. An experience with which I was intimately acquainted.

I’d heard there were fae who lived in other realms, dignitaries and colonizers from centuries past who had ventured through portals in search of new realms before the monarchy closed off travel.

He must be descended from one of those ancient fae travelers.

My breath caught.

Red flames danced across his buzzed dark hair like a crown.

Suddenly, the flames weren’t red but a brilliant blue, masculine features were feminine, and dark, tanned skin was creamy white.

A soft voice tinkled in my head. Fingers snapped as they lit me aflame.

Mother laughed.

My monster shrieked.

I fought the overwhelming urge to bang my skull against the brick wall. Slam my fists in my face until the noises stopped rattling around my head and I gurgled softly into the darkness.

She’s dead.

If death was the absence of life, then a person was not truly dead if they haunted your every waking moment.

And Mother stalked me. Every day. Every second. Every moment.

There was no peace.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

I gnawed harder on my inner cheek and tried to convince myself that I could look at flames without falling apart. Tried to pretend I wasn’t closer to crossing the delicate line that separated the sane from the insane.

Seven. Six. Five.

Like usual, I lied to myself.

Four. Three. Two.

The problem was there was only so much counting you could do.

Only so much breathing and pretending.

I should have looked away from the stunning fae man’s flames, but something about the way he leaned his face forward and whispered into the ears of the two men next to him mesmerized me.

He was a predator among predators.

Yet when he talked to the two other fae men with neck tattoos, who also had gold hardware decorating their pointed ears, he looked almost soft. Like he had a soul. Or maybe I was just projecting?

He grinned at them.

The three fae seemed close, like brothers.

The fae on his right was leaner with pale skin, short dark hair, and a massive eye tattooed on the side of his neck.

On his left, the fae seemed softer with a more delicate bone structure, gold skin, and wavy white-blond hair. His features were more feminine. He was almost pretty.

The massive flower tattoo on his neck was less insidious than the dagger and eye on his brothers’ necks, but it still gave him a hardened edge.

Their ink was almost as cool as the “Loyalty” tattoo that Sadie had gotten across her back. My fingernails dug into my palms, and I tried not to keel over at the thought of my best friend.

Sadie was my rock.

I fucking missed her.

All alone.

Three. Two. One.

I was fine.

I was normal.

I was competent.

The lies scraped across my mind like claws digging into my psyche, and each one pushed me a step closer to madness.

You’re being dramatic.

It wasn’t like the entire hall was giving warm, cozy, loving vibes, and I wasn’t the only person standing alone.

The four other men at the high dais constantly glanced over at the three fae like they were searching for their approval. Desperate for it.

But the fae didn’t acknowledge anyone else because they were wrapped up in one another.

In fact, the more I studied the room, the more I realized these three were the epicenter.

Women looked at them with barely concealed longing, and men glared with different shades of envy and awe.

The three fae ran the show.

Suddenly, red flames flickered higher as the largest man whipped his head around, dagger pulling as his neck turned.

Harsh cheekbones glinted as he scanned the hall, then stared directly at me.

Silver eyes glittered.

My cheeks burned as he stabbed me with his gaze.

It was a classic intimidation tactic. He maintained eye contact to assert his dominance over me because for some reason, he’d decided I was an opponent.

Past events flashed around me like exploding grenades.

Fire.

Unrelenting pain.

I wrenched my head away and grabbed my small pipe.

Discreetly, I sucked in smoke and exhaled calm, the drugs flowing through me and blunting the screams in my head, the pain in my back, the heaviness in my chest.

My intuition screamed at me to run away from this place.

To escape.

The sky was collapsing above as the sun swallowed a moon that was impossibly large. The room was full of predators who would do anything for power. I’d been taken from the only people I’d ever trusted and was all alone.

I was in danger.

But my intuition didn’t control me.

My monster did.

The steel cage rattled as the monster screamed for blood. It never looked away first. It never ran away.

People ran from us.

We would kill them all.

No. Shut the fuck up.

I counted upward in squared numbers: two, four, sixteen, 256, 65,536.

Crash.

I jumped as the entrance doors slammed open, breaking the room’s eerie silence with a loud bang.

Lothaire stalked down the path between the two tables, long braid trailing on the ground as his singular eye roamed.

Mother’s consort wore a perfectly tailored business suit that stretched across his bulging muscles.

Lothaire stopped in front of the tree and cracked his neck, like he was preparing for battle.

Everyone sat up straighter. Shoulders pressed back as faces fell into stony masks of obedience.

Silence thickened with anticipation.

The ancient vampyre smirked as he looked around the room, opal fangs flashing against bloodred lips as he literally sparked with gold power.

“Welcome to the reckoning.”