Psycho Gods: Enemies to Lovers Romance

THERAPY

Riposte (noun): a retaliatory verbal reply.

DAY 11, HOUR 5

“So how did the last week of—” Dr. Palmer looked down at her clipboards like she was reading off something prepared by the High Court “—training and battle go?”

I shifted, and my thigh bumped against Arabella’s.

Rain splattered against the window, and it was gray outside.

At the beginning of the session, I’d made sure to take the spot next to her on the couch. We were pressed flush against one another because there wasn’t enough room for all four of us.

There was a patch of frost beneath her feet on the carpet, and as I shifted my foot closer, the ice melted into water.

I needed her next to me.

Lately my control on my fire was tenuous at best, and it wanted to explode from me and burn the world.

Whenever I was around Arabella, the urges intensified. But the pain was nothing compared to the memory of her begging on a palace floor while she was tortured.

The threadbare couch creaked as I spread my legs wider and reassured myself that my Revered was okay. If anyone wanted to torture her, they’d have to go through me.

Arabella mumbled something under her breath about manspreading and wanting to stab me.

I pretended not to hear her.

Cracking my knuckles, I focused on the severe-looking therapist instead of releasing my flames and demanding that Arabella tell me every single wrong that had been done to her.

Eventually I’d discover it all.

In the meantime, I was making a list.

Dr. Palmer cleared her throat and peered at us over her thin spectacles.

No one spoke.

This session was the worst one yet because she kept asking us to recap our last week.

I would rather die.

In summary, our Revered had allowed herself to get stabbed in battle and had almost bled out, she’d had sex with the twins in front of us at a party, we’d scorched the side of a mountain, she’d run away from us and straight into the arms of the twins, and we were no closer to mastering our abilities.

It had been the worst week of my life.

Easily.

Dr. Palmer sighed with exasperation, then squinted at her clipboard. “It says here you successfully defeated the ungodly at the first battle. Tell me about it. Did anything especially traumatizing happen?”

Arabella choked.

I patted her back and glared at the therapist. “Get her water. Now.”

Dr. Palmer frowned but handed over a cup of water.

Arabella gulped it down while I rubbed soothing circles on her back and tried not to tangle my fingers in her blue curls.

She didn’t pull away.

My fingers clenched as I remembered a slur was carved into her skin. I forced my hands wide and kept rubbing.

The arm on the other side of the couch went up in flames.

Scorpius muttered something derogatory under his breath as he smacked out the flames with his sleeves, and Orion tried to peer past me to look at our Revered.

I draped my right arm over his shoulder, and he snuggled against me. He turned his face so he could stare at her.

Water splashed over the rim of the water cup and fell as snowflakes onto her clothes as she took a sip.

A noise of distress rumbled in my chest.

Everyone turned to stare at me, and I ignored them. Lifting my chin high, I concentrated on keeping the flames contained to my skin.

“Aran, from your reaction”—Dr. Palmer looked at her shaking hands pointedly—“it seems that something did happen in the battle. Let’s talk about it.”

Her trembling intensified, and the water in the cup turned to ice.

My upper lip pulled back. How dare she ask such intrusive questions of my Revered?

Only I could pester her about her choices.

This random woman had no right to distress her.

Scarlet shooting off my fingertips, I leaned back and draped my arm over the cushion behind Arabella as I fantasized about Dr. Palmer’s expression when she went up in flames.

I felt significantly better.

Maybe therapy was working?

“Please, Aran?” Dr. Palmer looked at her expectantly.

There was a long pause. “Fine—I’ll tell you. ”

I glanced down at her in surprise.

It never failed to shock me, having a woman for a Revered. No one would accuse Arabella of being weak, especially after her performance in the Legionnaire Games, but she was clearly more empathetic than the three of us.

She was a composite of contradictions: kind and playful, sad and morose, a victim and an aggressor, tenacious and merciless.

I wanted to crawl under her skin and learn every nuance.

My fingers curled around a turquoise curl that stuck out from her messy hair and hung over the edge of the couch.

Arabella was also shockingly pretty.

Her arching cheekbones and lush lips haunted me. Dark lashes fluttered over wide navy eyes that were rimmed in dark circles and highlighted with a slashing scar. Sleek muscles tapered into curves.

“Something did happen in the battle,” she whispered, and Dr. Palmer clicked her pen in anticipation.

Arabella wet her lower lip, and I swallowed a groan, unable to tear my eyes away from her.

Now that I had gotten used to the idea, I was more than content with the House of Malum having its first female Revered. It was not a sign of weakness but rather showcased how strong we were because we would take care of her.

Our Revered was someone softer and kinder who needed Protectors and a powerful Ignis to shield her.

It made sense.

Before us the realms had not been kind to her.

Now she had us, and we would not be kind to the realms on her behalf.

Sure we’d fucked up badly at Elite Academy and we still had to make it up to her. There was a reason the sun god only chose devils for his kings. Unlike angels, we couldn’t be constrained. When we wanted something, we didn’t stop until we got it.

Period.

Going forward, we would shield Arabella like no mate had ever been shielded before. We hadn’t been lying when we’d called ourselves her hounds.

We were hers to use.

She just didn’t know what that meant yet, but she would.

Cherry-red lips parted. Arabella nodded like she was fortifying herself, then blurted in one breath,

“I-got-stabbed-in-the-stomach-with-an-enchanted-sword-and-would-have-died-but-didn’t-because-I’m-the-fae-queen-and-can-only-die-by-having-my-heart-ripped-out-and-eaten-like-I-did-to-my-mother-which-is-weird-because-actually-I’m-an-angel-so-I-don’t-understand-how-I-can-be-queen.”

Arabella collapsed back like it had physically hurt her to speak, and she waited for a response.

Preoccupied with what she’d revealed, she didn’t notice she’d slumped against my side.

I noticed.

Dr. Palmer’s eyes widened.

I tucked my arm around Arabella’s side protectively and glared at the therapist, daring her to say something upsetting.

I didn’t like what she’d done, but I didn’t want her to have to relive it.

My left hand rested against Arabella’s forearm, and cold wafted off her sweatshirt. Her skin must be freezing if I could feel the chill through her clothes, especially since it was uncomfortably warm in the cramped office.

Lately ice trailed behind her wherever she went, and I didn’t like it. None of the other angels radiated cold like my Revered did, and I was worried something was wrong.

When we’d first arrived at the war camp, Jinx informed us that Arabella’s mother was renowned for her power. It had driven her to madness and the angel governing body refused to grant her wings.

Needing to do something to help, I tucked Arabella closer to me as I created a small fire in my right palm, then laid my flaming hand on her lap.

Subconsciously, she huddled closer to me and the flame.

With Orion leaning against my right and Arabella pressed against my left, I felt like I was flying.

I reached over and grabbed Scorpius’s shoulder so all three of them were touching me.

Instantly, I relaxed.

I was an Ignis taking care of his mates.

I was warming my Revered.

It was a dream that a month ago I’d thought would never come true.

Dr. Palmer scribbled furiously on her clipboard, then glared over her spectacles. “Do you feel like you’ve been processing getting stabbed and almost dying? Have you been thinking about this traumatic event a lot?”

I gnashed my teeth.

Dr. Palmer ignored me.

Arabella pulled out her pipe, inhaled smoke, and said hoarsely, “I feel the same as always.” An opaque crow settled onto her shoulder.

“And how do you normally feel?” Dr. Palmer asked.

Arabella scoffed. “Empty.”

I jolted, Orion made a sad noise, and Scorpius muttered something harshly as all three of us remembered the hollow sensation in her memory.

Did she still feel that way?

I wanted to scream.

Her crow cawed, and my eyes widened; while she’d sobbed on the palace floor, her mother had accused her of setting monstrous birds free from their gilded cages. Was that why she kept the bird as her companion?

I tucked her tighter against my side, and she scooted closer.

My heart soared.

My eyes burned with pressure.

“Could you expand on the emptiness you feel? Try to put it into more words.” Dr. Palmer scribbled aggressively on her clipboard.

“It feels like I’m missing something.”

“And when did this start?”

“I woke up one day at fourteen years old, and the world was colored in shades of dark blue and gray.” Arabella stared off into the distance like she was somewhere else. “It was freezing cold. I remember it vividly because for the first time in my life, living felt like a chore.”

Dr. Palmer furrowed her brow and stopped writing. “You mean you felt like the world was colored in shades of dark blue and gray.”

“No, the colors changed.” Arabella shook her head.

“Well, to start, you need to recognize that you just felt that way.” Dr. Palmer waved her pen. “The colors weren’t actually different.”

“Yes, they were,” Orion whispered.

Everyone turned to him.

“What did you say?” Dr. Palmer asked.

I scoffed. “She said the colors were different, so they were. Ask something else,” I spoke harshly to end the conversation because we couldn’t let Aran know we were in her memories.

She would want to stop the connection.

We were desperate to link ourselves to her.

Any way we could.

Dr. Palmer bristled but looked at Arabella and changed the subject. “How is your relationship coming along with your mates? Do you trust one another more after the battle?”

“No,” Arabella said at the same time we answered in unison, “Yes.”

Arabella whipped her head toward us. “What are you talking about?” Navy eyes narrowed. “You three have done nothing to earn my trust.”

Scorpius scoffed loudly.

Arabella gritted her teeth and asked condescendingly, “Do you have something you want to say, Scorp?”

“Yeah, I do.” Scorpius laughed cruelly. “We fell to our knees in front of hundreds of witnesses and proclaimed ourselves your hounds. We promised to serve you and not the sun god, and you have the audacity to say we’ve done nothing.”

“Lie.” Arabella laughed louder. “There were sixty people. Max.”

Scorpius let out a string of expletives, and Dr. Palmer snapped, “Control your mouth in my office.”

Everyone ignored her.

Scorpius continued with exasperation, “Corvus even crawled for you.”

My gut twisted at the reminder.

She acted like it meant nothing to her.

“What else do you want us to do for you?” I looked down at my Revered. “Do you want us to watch you suck off the twins and say nothing about it? Because we’ve done that—we haven’t even brought it up?”

“Excuse me. Suck who off?” Dr. Palmer asked with confusion.

Scorpius muttered something about John holding her head as he adjusted his pants.

I rolled my eyes; his new obsession with the human was entertaining.

Poor John.

Arabella jabbed her finger into my chest. “Wow, you couldn’t just let it go? You had to bring it up. Sun god, I knew the three of you couldn’t be mature.”

“You had his cock down your throat, what do you want us to do?” Scorpius’s face turned red, and he gesticulated wildly. “Congratulate you?”

Arabella bared her teeth at him. “Maybe it would be nice to have a little support and not be slut shamed for owning my sexuality. Sun god knows it’s been hard enough for me after what I’ve been through.”

“Sweetheart,” Orion whispered. “Of course we support your sexuality.” He reached across me and grabbed her hand. “I thought it was hot.”

She held his hand back and smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

I gaped at my Protector. “You cannot support her sucking off the twins?”

“Technically, I only sucked off Luka,” Arabella pointed out.

Orion nodded. “I support her. Not her actions.” He shrugged and whispered, “You have to admit it was—intense.”

I glared, not him too.

What was happening with my mates and the twins? Couldn’t they see that they were stealing our Revered from us?

“No,” I said. “What it was—was horrifying!”

Fire buzzed beneath my skin, and the urge to burn the world intensified because now I couldn’t stop remembering my Revered gazing lovingly up at another man, who had his dick down her throat.

A piece of the carpet went up in flames.

Everyone ignored it.

“What the hell is going on?” Dr. Palmer shouted. “Someone explain. Now.”

Arabella didn’t take her eyes off me as she snapped, “I gave Luka a blow job at a party last week while the three of them watched, and John pulled my hair during it.” She clapped. “Case closed.”

I glared right back at her.

Dr. Palmer put down her pen. “I’m not paid enough for this.”

“Are they paying you?” Arabella furrowed her brow. “Wait a second—is the High Court paying us for fighting in the war?”

“Stop talking.” Dr. Palmer clicked her pen. “None of you speak.”

Arabella made a noise of annoyance but slumped back into the couch, and I pulled her back against my side.

She moved both her hands to hover over my still-flaming palm.

More warmth fluttered in my chest because my Revered might be mad at me, but she still needed my warmth.

She needed me.

I’d never been more grateful for my abilities.

“Since the High Court thinks it’s crucial that you mate and come into your full powers for the war effort—and they’ve tasked me with the impossible job of helping you—here’s what we’re going to do.” Dr. Palmer smoothed her hands over her already slick bun. Then she grabbed a stack of small books off the table next to her and handed one out to each of us.

“This is an enchanted truth journal. In order to avoid species rights violations, the High Court gives them to inmates incarcerated at the Olympus realm’s maximum-security prison. It is supposed to help unfeeling sociopaths build relationships.” She glared at us. “I think they would be beneficial for you four.”

Arabella crossed her arms. “Are you calling us—”

“Yes,” Dr. Palmer said.

Arabella slumped petulantly, and I couldn’t stop my chuckle because she was so adorable sometimes.

Dr. Palmer forged ahead. “Your answer to the prompt will appear in one another’s journals. That way you can discuss back and forth the implications of your answer and build a connection.”

Arabella made a sound of disbelief.

“I understand your doubts.” Dr. Palmer stared at me as she spoke. “At the very least, it should begin a discourse among the four of you, which it seems like you need. Communication is the key to forging any type of connection.”

“Sounds like a pseudoscience,” Scorpius muttered under his breath loud enough for everyone to hear.

The doctor turned purple.

I patted the book on my lap. “We’ll take them.”

Dr. Palmer narrowed her eyes. “This is not up for debate. All four of you will answer the prompts whenever you have free time.” Her tone was clipped with annoyance. “The pen is enchanted to only write down the truth.”

She looked down at the books pointedly.

None of us touched them.

Dr. Palmer frowned. “Also, I’m mandated to inform you that if you try to use the pen as a weapon, it is enchanted to electrocute you.”

It took a second for her words to process.

Arabella opened her book. “Cool,” she said as she stabbed the pen into my thigh.

She was electrocuted.

I lunged and grabbed her twitching form, just barely saving her from falling off the couch. I gaped down at the woman in my arms.

I’d never met anyone so reckless.

Keeping her safe was near impossible. Sun god, she’s a hazard to herself.

“She just stabbed Corvus,” Orion whispered with horror, and Scorpius barked with laughter.

After painfully long minutes where I worried over the physical but mostly mental health of my Revered, she stopped twitching and grinned.

“That was sick.” Her curls stood up around her head as they crackled with electricity.

I snatched the pen out of Arabella’s hand, and a shock leaped where our fingers touched. “Don’t be a brat,” I ordered.

She smirked, and for a second, her gaze caught on my lips. Her pupils expanded, and lust sparked between us.

Abruptly she winced and jolted.

Strange.

Blood trickled down my leg and pride welled in my chest at the force of her stab. I liked that she wasn’t a weak, simpering fool; it was extremely attractive how strong she was.

Scorpius couldn’t stop laughing, and Orion grinned over at her.

Dr. Palmer’s mouth was wide open. The alarm went off, signaling the end of the session, but she didn’t react. She seemed stunned by Arabella’s violence.

We RJE’d away before she could come to her senses.

Entering our barracks, I stared down at the book in my hands labeled, “Journal to Help Facilitate Relations among the Criminally Insane,” and my spirits soared.