Psycho Beasts: Enemies to Lovers Romance (Cruel Shifterverse Book 3)

“Are you seriously not going to get your own room? This house has like twenty.” I rubbed my tender face tiredly as Aran threw herself onto my massive four-poster bed.

Well, mine in the sense that I’d screamed dibs at the top of my lungs.

Aran arched an eyebrow, but it didn’t have the same snooty effect as when she was a girl. “Are you seriously trying to kick out your best friend, who is emotionally unstable right now?”

“We’re twenty-one-year-old grown women. Don’t you want your own bed?”

“No, you’re twenty-one. I’m twenty-four. Which means, as your elder, I demand you cuddle with me every night.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “You’re really not joking?”

Aran climbed off the bed and inspected the elegant decor scattered around the room. She flipped a switch on the wall, and the massive fireplace roared to life.

Aran shrieked and immediately flicked it off.

The sound was blood-curdling.

I gaped at her.

The horrified expression on her face turned into laughter, and soon she was on her knees, gasping like a maniac.

Aran’s voice shook. “I’m scared of fire and blood. I’m disguised as a boy with an enchantment that isn’t strong enough to change my vagina into a dick. My best friend is being initiated into a scary gang and looks awful. Also, as we speak, I’m probably being hunted by insanely powerful fae.”

On her hands and knees on the plush carpet, she inhaled raggedly, like she was drowning in the air.

Her horrifying reaction to the flames seemed to echo through the opulent space.

Aran choked like she was sobbing, but her eyes were bone-dry and unfocused.

My gut told me she couldn’t cry even if she wanted to.

Stomach in knots, I collapsed onto my aching knees beside her and patted her head.

Morbidly, my shaking hands were discolored with blue-black bruises, the hues similar to the lowlights in her short turquoise hair.

As my best friend gasped in horror, I silently trembled in the aftermath of torture.

There was nothing to say to comfort her.

Our situations were too depressing for meaningless platitudes.

But like Aran, I didn’t cry.

Somewhere among discovering I was part of a lost race of ancient fae, infecting the fae queen with my blood, and getting tortured by Spike, I’d gone cold.

Maybe it was the true disposition of my heritage. Maybe it was shock. Most likely, it was just torture.

Either way, I was empty.

Finally, after what could have been minutes or hours, Aran stopped choking and sat back on her heels.

Her tormented expression smoothed away as she rebuilt her calm facade.

The distressed person was gone, and in her place sat a cold, emotionless fae. Just like Ascher, she expertly concealed her feelings.

Abruptly, Aran straightened and smiled pleasantly. “I call the right side of the bed.”

I nodded, still not understanding why we had to sleep in the same room.

As Aran sensed my hesitation, her smile fell. “I can’t sleep alone. Please. The nights have always been a…bad time for me.”

The unspoken truth, that her mother used to hurt her in the night, hung heavy between us.

I grabbed her hand in mine. In that moment, as we sprawled together on the floor, déjà vu settled over me.

Aran’s experiences were eerily similar to my own.

My skin prickled with premonition. We were always so busy trying to survive the present that it felt like we were missing the big picture. In a few months, it had gone from a hunch to a burning surety that we were missing something crucial.

The High Court, the different realms, that I was a blood fae, Aran’s black eyes, the dark poems that kept taking over people’s bodies around us.

It only happened when we were together.

Why had I thought everything was simple because the numb was common to half-breeds?

I’d forgotten the bigger picture.

The endless problems.

But not knowing what was going on changed nothing. The beast realm and its bloodthirsty Mafia were my new reality, and Aran was still the Queen of the Fae Realm.

All we could do was adapt. The rules might change, but the stakes didn’t lessen.

One thing was constant: the realms punished the weak.

I admired the constellations that were carved into the ornate mahogany ceiling, and said, “Fine, just don’t freak out if I wake up screaming in the middle of the night.”

Aran squeezed my hand. “Oooh, what if we both wake up screaming at the same time?”

“That would be soooo fun and flirty,” I said sarcastically.

Aran looked down at our blood-caked hands and shuddered. “I call the shower first.”

Before I could argue, she sprinted into the en suite room and slammed the door shut.

I rolled my eyes. “This is literally why it’s dumb that we’re sharing a room. There are enough bedrooms and showers that we shouldn’t have to share.”

“Go eat some food, bestie!” Aran yelled back, ignoring me as the water started running.

I shook my head because she was insane and wandered down the massive hallway. Aran had five minutes tops; then I was coming back and causing a scene.

My skin crawled with disgust as I realized how dirty I was, crusty sand mixed with old and new blood covering my body.

It itched something fierce.

As I rounded the hall, an older woman in a black dress with a white apron hurried past me, carrying sheets. She smiled and gave a small curtsy.

I grimaced.

Xerxes’s servants must be under orders to appear happy.

Down the massive hall and sweeping grand stairs, I followed the smells of bacon and syrup.

When I found the source of the food, my feet stopped in shock.

I didn’t know that kitchens could be so shiny.

The walls were a dark green, and every surface was covered in glittering black marble flecked with gold. Stunning gold fixtures and yet another extravagant crystal chandelier cast sparks of light throughout the dark room.

Everyone must have been showering, because food was spread out buffet-style. Walter stood alone in the room with a serving spoon.

“Mistress, please help yourself.” Walter nodded toward the feast before him.

I gnawed on my lower lip and tried to act casual as my stomach howled like a beast.

Walter held up a shiny plate with gold trim. “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll fill your plate.”

My face burned with anger.

How dare Xerxes force his servants to fill his plates for him? How lazy and pretentious could a person be?

“Um, I’ll take everything,” I said, and Walter nodded like choosing twenty different pieces of food was completely respectable.

As he piled the food onto my plate, I leaned forward discreetly. “How dare he treat you like this. I won’t stand for it.”

“What, Mistress? What are you talking about?” Walter’s bushy gray eyebrows quivered with confusion.

Voices sounded close by, and panic raced through me.

“Blink once if you want me to do something drastic,” I whispered as I busied myself grabbing a glass of orange juice.

“Sadie, you haven’t showered yet?” Xerxes sauntered into the kitchen. Two female servants followed, staring up at him with pink cheeks.

My stomach dropped as I turned away from Walter.

I’d been so close.

Xerxes grinned at me. Unaware of my ire, he wore a silky black robe that was rolled up at the sleeves, showcasing his long, corded muscles and veins. His almost too-pretty features fit in among the stunning opulence of his house.

The prince was home.

I turned away from Xerxes with disgust and focused on Walter. As he handed me the overflowing plate, I stared at him intently, waiting to see if he’d blink.

Walter’s eyes were wide.

He stared back at me and didn’t flinch.

Wow, Xerxes had him so under his thumb that he was clearly too terrified to even blink.

Things were worse than I’d thought.

Xerxes chuckled as he stood beside me. “Are you going to eat or just stand there?” His cinnamon scent spiked sweet, and he flashed a row of white teeth.

“Um, sure.” I winked aggressively at Walter—to let him know I was still going to save him—and the poor man choked.

He’d clearly never had someone understand his plight before. That was going to change.

Trying to act casual, like I wasn’t about to stage a coup d’état and free all Xerxes’s servants, I settled into a plush chair at the long black table.

Then, like a true lady, I shoveled my entire plate into my mouth in less than twenty seconds.

The good news was I’d eaten so fast that my body didn’t even know it was supposed to be full.

Taking advantage of my momentum, I went to get seconds.

Xerxes sat across from me at the table, and we ate together in silence. When he went to get thirds, I followed. I wasn’t about to be shown up by any man.

After my tenth bread roll, my ire calmed down.

I was no longer ready to launch a bloody rebellion; a small uprising would do. After my fourteenth chocolate-chip cookie, I magnanimously decided no one needed to die.

They just needed some maiming.

In between my violent thoughts, I inspected Xerxes. He hadn’t showered either, from the sticky helmet of blood that still coated his mane of blond hair.

“So do you like your room?” Xerxes’s smooth accent rolled off his tongue like honey.

From what I’d seen of the beast realm, as small and as bloody as my experience had been, everyone talked with accents. But there was something about Xerxes’s lilting voice that made my skin tingle.

His words were smooth.

I nodded and impressively swallowed two bread rolls at once. “Yeah, the four-poster beds are amazing. I already feel more elegant and dramatic, like an old Victorian lady from the human realm.”

Xerxes chuckled. “Just wait until you see the library.”

“Any books on how to maim without killing?” I asked innocently.

“What?”

“What?” I inspected my cuticle like I was a prim lady without a care in the world, not a hot mess missing three of my nails from where they’d been ripped off. Violently.

A comfortable silence fell as we both lost ourselves in homicidal thoughts.

Xerxes licked his swollen lips and leaned forward. “Who are you trying to maim, alpha?”

I choked, and it wasn’t from the three cookies in my mouth.

For some reason, when he’d said “alpha,” images of silk ropes, gasps, and his naked body gyrating had flashed through my mind.

Xerxes’s red tongue snaked out across his swollen, split lips, and he raked a hand across his stubbled jaw.

“You,” I blurted out.

He leaned closer, purple eyes sparking with heat. “Oh, really?”

I nodded like a blithering idiot. Weren’t we talking about maiming? It felt like we were talking about something else.

“There is actually something I want to show you.” Xerxes pushed his chair back and offered me his large, blood-splattered palm. “Come with me.”

It wasn’t a question.

Apparently, I was a pervert, because I swore he emphasized the word come.

Before I could debate the merits of bringing my plate of cookies with me, Xerxes tugged gently on my hand and dragged me through his mansion. His callused thumb slowly dragged across my wrist.

Months of violence and zero sexual action had fried my brain, because my core fluttered.

Yes, I was turned on by a thumb.

This was a new low.

Before I could blurt out something embarrassing, like a compliment on the shape of Xerxes’s knuckle—it was nice and lean, not too knobby—we came to a halt.

We’d walked through the entire mansion, and stood in an alcove hidden at the end of the hallway, in front of a black door with a brass handle.

Xerxes grabbed the handle like he was going to open it, but stopped and rested his forehead against the door. He took a deep breath as his biceps and forearms bunched.

“Um, do you need me to break down the door?” I asked awkwardly, unsure what was going on.

He must have been more tired than I’d thought.

I took a step back, ready to throw myself at the door and showcase my prowess.

Xerxes’s large shoulders shook as he chuckled weakly. “No, Sadie, that’s not what I need.”

Still, we didn’t enter.

“Let me kick it.”

In a tavern of nightmares, a lifetime ago, I’d once broken Lucinda’s door when she didn’t answer me. She’d been safe and asleep in bed and had gasped in awe at her big sister’s physical prowess.

Just kidding. She’d said, “Sis, you’re acting like a psycho. You need to learn how to relax.”

She’d been going through her preteen phase. Meanwhile, I’d been going through my “terrified Dick was secretly hurting my little sister too” phase.

Moral of the story: I could break down a door.

Xerxes took another deep breath and looked down at me with exasperation. “I can open the door.” The muscle in his jaw ticked, like something was upsetting him.

We still didn’t enter.

“Okay, whatever you say, big man.” Men really needed to learn when to ask for help.

Startlingly fast, Xerxes moved and pressed himself against me, caging me in.

Up close, the purple of his eyes looked like an amethyst quartz. Flecks of light purple and white created an otherworldly sparkle. He really was unfairly pretty.

Xerxes rasped softly, “I want to show you my nest.”

My heart skipped a beat.

I whispered softly, “Do you lay eggs?” Had I missed the signs all along? Was Xerxes part bird, part kitten?

My mind stuttered as I tried to picture it.

A broken chuckle burst from his chest. “My omega nest, you idiot.” He groaned and leaned his forehead against mine.

“Oh.” A faint memory of reading about an omega’s safe haven tickled the back of my brain. I couldn’t remember any of the specifics, just that the book made a big deal about their importance.

His cinnamon scent spiked until it coated my mouth in sugar spice.

I fought the urge to lick my lips.

Just for a taste.

My gut pinched under the intensity of his stare. He wasn’t just asking me to see his nest; this was something more, and the smart thing would have been to tell him I needed space.

To back away and say that I wasn’t ready and that I needed to recover from recent events. That we should wait and not put pressure on anything because I wasn’t ready for an omega-alpha relationship.

“Show me.” My broken voice was too loud in the quiet alcove.

No one had ever called me smart.

No one had ever said, “Sadie, she’s a clever one. That girl has a bright future.” However, I’d been labeled mentally unhinged with homicidal impulses plenty of times.

In fact, a teacher had once told me, “You’re going to die someday in a violent, terrifying way.”

To be fair, I’d made a farting noise with my armpit every time she’d spoken, and had spread a rumor that she shit in the shower. I was thirteen, for sun god’s sake; what else was I supposed to do?

Xerxes reached forward and trailed his long, callused fingers down my sensitive neck.

Goose bumps marked his trail.

A low purr rumbled from my chest as he bent closer until our breath mingled. His words tickled my mouth. “Good girl.”

In that moment, I learned something very important about myself: I had a praise kink.

Xerxes pulled back. Cinnamon sugar burned my lungs, and he shoved open the heavy door.

When my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I gasped.

“Welcome to my nest.”