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

Metamorphosis—Day 46, hour 1

“AHHHHHH!” I screamed as I arched my back off the makeshift cot.

I was lying in a sticky puddle of blood. Everything itched. My clothes were crusted to sweat-soaked skin.

Zenith and Vegar lay on the floor beside me.

Each of us was on one of the makeshift bloody mattress pads from the first competition. They were marginally better than the floor.

Our room reeked of copper and desperation.

The demons panted loudly and swore through gritted teeth.

I moaned brokenly.

Malum snapped, “Help her, Luka!” His head was bent low, face scrunched with concentration, as he knelt and stitched up Vegar’s wounds.

“I’m trying!” Luka yelled back frantically.

Everyone was panicking.

Orion was on his knees, stitching up Zenith.

Scorpius sat between his mates with his jaw clenched as he struggled to hold the demons still. Every few seconds, he released them, reached over, and grabbed my arm like he wanted to make sure I was still there.

I didn’t have time to dwell on the bizarre gesture.

I whimpered as the pain intensified.

Orion made a pained noise and looked over at me with wide, concerned eyes.

“One breath at a time. Breathe slowly,” Luka said gruffly as he concentrated on stitching up the gash on my thigh. His movements were smooth and precise.

I made a point of inhaling as fast as I could. Just to spite him.

I didn’t like when men told me what to do, it was a trigger.

Luka crinkled his eyes and looked down at me like I was an idiot.

A scream bubbled up my throat.

I bit down on my lower lip until my teeth poked through and stabbed my chin.

The stabbing, pulling sensation of the needle was pleasurable compared to the absolute agony raking down my back.

It was the shower all over again.

Absolute.

Torture.

And I had no clue why my spinal cord was fracturing inside me.

Luka finished closing the gaping wound on my leg. “I need to do your chest,” he said gruffly as he pointed at the gash that traveled across my collarbone.

I couldn’t remember if it was from a sword or a talon.

Swallowing another scream, I gave him a shaky nod.

Sweat poured down my forehead, and I wanted to yell at him to fix my back. But unless he had a doctorate in dark enchantment, he couldn’t do anything to help me.

Some burdens weren’t meant to be shared.

I said nothing.

And suffered.

Luka pointed at my collarbone again like he was waiting for permission.

Zenith groaned loudly beside me and slammed his feet against the floor as Orion stitched his arm. Scorpius reached over and touched my shoulder.

Vegar whimpered.

Malum glanced at me, silver eyes wide with worry.

Crack. My spine snapped.

Everything went dark.

Cold water splashed across my face, and I sputtered with outrage as it filled my nose. It was frigid compared to my clammy skin.

“Stay conscious,” Luka ordered.

I blinked through watery lashes.

Instead of leaning across me to get to my neck, Luka threw his powerful leg over my hips.

I froze.

He straddled me and leaned forward.

I choked with surprise.

The apex of his thighs was nestled against mine, and he’d put on a new sweatshirt, but it was soaked with sweat and blood. It clung to his muscled upper body like a second skin.

I held my breath.

His fingers danced gently across my collarbone.

There was a loud ripping noise as Luka tore apart the top of my sweatshirt so it was hanging open to expose my collarbone. He leaned closer and flexed his thighs for stability as he stitched up the gash.

He had nimble fingers for a large man.

Crack. Things shifted in my back, and I swallowed vomit as my limbs shook.

Involuntarily I flung my hips forward and curled my shoulders back to alleviate the pain. My core rubbed against Luka.

“Sorry,” I choked out. “Can’t help it.”

The tops of Luka’s cheekbones turned a faint pink, but he didn’t look up from his work. He silently fixed my broken pieces.

I grunted.

Squeezed my eyes shut.

Whimpered.

Luka made a sound of concern.

Again the pain exploded. Again I slammed my hips forward and arched my back as I squeezed my eyes shut. This time, I rubbed against a solid object.

Half-delirious, I mumbled, “Why. Do you have a weapon?”

Luka choked, and I peeled open my eyes.

I looked further down, and my eyes widened.

“That’s not a weapon,” I whispered like an idiot.

Luka didn’t take his eyes off my neck where he was working. “No, Your Highness, it’s not.”

It was my turn to blush.

I was an idiot. Calling a man’s dick a weapon was the type of stupid shit Sadie babbled about happening in her romance books.

I would never recover from this.

“Why are you suddenly calling me Highness?” I gasped between whimpers of pain because I was desperate to change the topic and move on from being an embarrassment to all of womankind.

Scorpius’s grip on my shoulder tightened.

Things were moving inside my skeleton. The sensation was tortuous and wrong.

I prayed for death.

Luka didn’t answer. He climbed off my hips and started working on my arm.

I didn’t ask again.

Hours later my back finally stopped trying to send me into cardiac arrest, and Luka finished up stitching what felt like my millionth wound. He rummaged around, putting the supplies away.

He’d rolled up his sleeves, and his forearms were coated like he’d dipped his arms into red paint.

I couldn’t move.

My body weighed three hundred thousand tons.

A dull throbbing sensation echoed through my limbs.

I was liquid. The excruciating sensations had fried my neurons, and I’d melted. There was nothing left of me.

I moved a little and froze. Dozens of stitches pulled.

A horrible sensation washed over me; when I moved, it felt like my organs were going to spill out from my skin.

Or maybe it was all in my head?

Vegar thumped his fist against the carpet and moaned loudly.

“Stay still,” Scorpius snapped as he held him down with one hand, his other still holding onto me.

The two demons were littered with even more cuts than I was.

“‘Your Highness’ is fitting because you’re bossy and stubborn. You refused to listen to reason, and your plan was the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Luka whispered as he cleaned up his supplies.

I shivered.

Goose bumps erupted on my neck.

What? I made a sound of confusion.

Luka’s voice darkened. “You sacrificed yourself to protect me.” He paused, “Never do that again.”

With my eyes closed, body a limp amalgamation of soup, I scoffed under my throat.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I whispered.

Luka chuckled, and the sound was rich and deep.

He was laughing at me.

Before I could say anything else, I was jostled and lifted off the floor. Luka easily maneuvered my dead weight.

“What are you doing with her?” Malum snapped, and his gravelly voice echoed like a shot.

We stopped with me hanging in his arms midair.

A long moment passed, and it seemed like Luka wasn’t going to answer.

Scorpius muttered something derogatory under his breath.

When Luka spoke, his words held no room for argument. “She’s going to bed,” he said like he was declaring war.

Malum’s voice was filled with fury. “Put her in our bed.”

If I had any energy left, I would have launched out of Luka’s arms in feminine outrage and kicked Malum’s ass.

“No,” I mumbled weakly.

My lips were chapped from panting, and the words didn’t come out as harshly as I would have wanted.

Sad.

Luka’s fingers tightened.

“If she needs to lie in a bed,” Malum said roughly, “She can lie in ours, not yours. She’s slept with us before.”

I muttered, “There’s no space.”

Scorpius snarled, “We’ll make space for you.”

Orion whispered something quietly that I couldn’t hear.

“She’s coming to my bed. I have the space,” Luka growled as he gently laid me down onto a warm mattress. He pulled the covers up under my chin, then slowly tucked the bedding under my legs.

There was a low hiss and a sizzling sound. I didn’t have to open my eyes to know with 100 percent certainty that Malum was on fire.

We all needed help, but he really needed help. The type only a fae fire department could give.

A moment later, Luka was pulling fuzzy socks over my feet. “These are my favorite pair,” he whispered softly.

Déjà vu hit me like a punch to the face.

When I was destroyed after the first challenge, John had taken care of me.

The twins are the only men who’ve ever consistently shown me kindness and support.

They knew me. Saw me at my worst. And unlike every other male I’d ever known, they stayed by my side.

They cared.

Even Sadie’s men were only friendly with me out of an obligation to their mate. I knew that.

The twins had no obligation to be kind. Yet that was all they’d ever been.

Luka tucked the comforter under my feet and said, “I better not see you take these socks off. You’ve been shivering a lot lately.”

Pressure welled.

Tears spilled down my cheeks, and my lips parted on a silent sob.

“What?” Luka’s hand stroked my forehead. “Please don’t cry.”

He was being so nice to me.

His words had the opposite effect of what he was going for.

I sobbed harder. Curling onto my side, I buried my head in a pillow and shook from the force of the emotions burning through my chest.

I was on fire, but the flames came from within.

I missed when I’d felt nothing.

The haze was nice.

This was hell.

“Aran, please.” Luka gingerly crawled into the bed and scooped me into his arms so his front was to my back. I was pressed against him and the wall.

His muscled frame blocked me from the rest of the room.

He enveloped me.

Completely.

Protectively.

I turned and cried into his chest, careful to make no noise so I didn’t alert the rest of the room that I was being pathetic.

On the floor, the demons thrashed and moaned in pain. The kings panted with exhaustion as they pulled needles and threads through skin with expert precision.

I cried because for the first time in my life, I knew two men I really liked.

Sun god help me.

By some small miracle, no one but Luka noticed I was breaking down. His arms surrounded me, but they rested against me lightly like he was afraid I’d break if he touched me too hard.

“Sorry,” I whispered into his chest as I soaked his bloody shirt with pathetic tears.

Luka leaned forward and pressed his lips against my ears so only I could hear him. “Don’t you dare apologize for crying.”

Of course I cried harder.

Luka groaned like I was hurting him and whispered, “You know, I thought Aran was the coolest guy I’d ever met.”

I hiccuped and bit down on my fist to quiet myself. Warm, callused fingers tangled in my curls, and Luka palmed the back of my head. He pulled me closer and said, “And now I think Arabella is the coolest woman.”

I blinked up at him.

The corners of his mouth pulled up into a small smile, and he transformed from an unapproachable grouch into a breathtakingly handsome man.

Another sob welled inside me.

I reached my fingers forward and trailed them across his face.

He was missing dimples.

My voice was raspy from sobbing as I replied, “You’re pretty cool yourself. Even if you’re not John’s alter ego.”

“Trust me, sweetheart.” Luka pressed his hips forward until he was flush against me. “I’m my own man.”

A zing of pain shot down my spine.

Before I could do something disturbing, Luka closed his eyes. “Go to sleep, my little dictator.”

My heart beat a thousand miles per second at his casual use of my.

I scoffed, “Why does everyone keep calling me little? I’m six four in heels.”

He chuckled, and the sound vibrated through his chest. “Sure you are.”

I felt safer than I had in my life as I drifted off against him. “I literally am.”

A bicep flexed against my side like Luka was trying to show off his muscles. “Whatever you want to believe, Your Highness.”

Sleepily I argued, “I can’t tell if you’re being ironically disrespectful or sweet.”

There was a long pause. “If I were disrespecting you, you’d know it.”

I stilled.

Convinced I’d heard him wrong.

I opened my eyes. “What?”

Luka pressed his hand over my face like he was mock suffocating me and ordered, “Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

The grouch was back.

I debated causing a scene, but exhaustion had me closing my eyes and whispering, “Maybe you do have a personality disorder.”

Luka pressed his lips to my forehead. “Whatever you need to believe to sleep at night, dictator.”

It was the softest kiss in the history of kisses.

Like a butterfly’s wing.

It felt like someone had stabbed my spine. Pure. White hot. Agony.

I curled my toes in my fuzzy socks and smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t fake.

In my imagination, Scorpius asked, “Is she all right? I heard her crying.”

Orion made a sound of distress.

“She was crying?” Malum asked brokenly like the thought of me in tears did something to him.

Clearly, I was creating false scenarios because I knew the kings didn’t actually care about me.

They couldn’t.

Not after everything they’d done.