Psycho Devils (Cruel Shifterverse, #5)

by Jasmine Mas

Orion staggered, and I held my precious mate upright. Scorpius rested his long fingers on the backs of both our necks tightly. His nails dug into our skin. I leaned into his familiar touch and tried to ignore the headache that throbbed in my temple. In a few minutes, everything had changed. My mates and I were now bound by enchanted tattoos to Aran. No, Arabella.

The honorable House of Malum was bound to a lying, weak fae. A useless. Manipulative. Woman.

I groaned with frustration. And nothing hurt worse than being close to something you wanted but knowing you couldn’t have it.

I hated Aran, but I preferred him to the creature in front of me. The pathetic woman. She was a fucking joke. Everything about Arabella—the too-pretty face; delicate bone structure; long, curly blue hair—was proof that Aran had never existed. She had put everyone at risk with her masquerade. We trained and fought together in life-or-death situations. Our unit was only as strong as our weakest soldier, and in the heat of battle, trust in one another was sometimes all we had. She’d betrayed us all.

Orion’s mind worked differently from others. He was obsessive. Where others showed interest, he fixated. He stalked. We’d met Orion when he was standing over us in the middle of the night, watching us sleep. Even after we’d all realized we were mates, he’d still break into our rooms to spy on us. Unfortunately, he was showing the same signs of obsession with the lying bitch.

Our mating song didn’t sing like it usually did. It was gone. The classroom was unnaturally quiet. The only sound was Lothaire mumbling under his breath and shuffling papers. What the fuck.

The devil mate structure was always the same: one Ignis, two Protectors, and one Revered. Four powerful men. One soul bond tying them together.

Flames crackled louder as I struggled with control. Arabella eyed my fire with disgust. “Men are so unwell.” She pushed against my chest.

Her expression darkened. “Since you enslaved me to devils who hate me, I probably won’t forgive you. Ever.” “You’re not enslaved!” Lothaire snapped. “Wait.” Dark-blue eyes widened, and long dark lashes fluttered with confusion. Her jaw dropped. “You don’t even know what you did, do you?”

Pain erupted in my gut like I’d been stabbed by a dagger, and I fell to my knees. My mates did the same beside me. I gasped at the unexpected agony, but as swiftly as it had arrived, the pain disappeared. Only anger remained. How dare he take what was ours? The three of us got to our feet as the screams in the hall increased. He threatens Arabella. Must protect her. Must get her back. Must keep her close. She’s ours, nobody else’s.

Because she’s your mate!!!

A yellow sheen glowed across Orion’s eyes, and I knew mine had a similar glint. Devils had night vision. Arabella smoked and stared at the ceiling, unaware that predators were watching her. And she was our prey.

The screaming flames added a certain je ne sais quoi to the room. An ambiance if you will. They matched my aesthetic.

Yes, my aesthetic was mental illness; no, I didn’t want to talk about it.

Dr. Palmer would just love that shit. I imagined her pulling down her spectacles and asking me if I’d drawn in my journal this week while her face crinkled up with judgment. I snorted remembering when I showed her the flip book that I’d spent hours creating. If you turned the pages quickly it showed a tree falling over and crushing a family of chipmunks. Instead of applauding my impressive drawing skills, Dr. Palmer had asked me if I was trying to be institutionalized. I missed her energy.

My lungs ached from smoke inhalation. My soul ached from killing. My shoulders ached from carrying the weight of being the coolest person at the academy.

A voice slurred in my ears, “Hello, my pretty princess. You visiting?” Hands groped my hips and ass roughly. “I haven’t seen you around.” White horns curled off the top of the head of the blond man who was touching me.

I was no man’s princess. However, I was a whore. Being a slut wasn’t a title, it was a lifestyle.

The rational part of me gasped with horror while the irrational part of me casually noted that the deceased body fit well with my vibe. Sometimes life was a chill, but then there were the horrors. It was exhausting being a girl.

“Don’t be mad, baby,” he whispered and gave her a small smile. What was with the endearments? Arabella flinched from his gentle touch like she’d been struck. “You shouldn’t have killed a man for no reason.” Orion stared down at her without blinking, like he was trying to figure out his next move. They were stunning together. Arabella’s pale skin and blue hair contrasted with his golden skin and white-blond hair. Both of them were unnaturally pretty. An image of my dark-bronze skin tangled with theirs in a writhing mess of limbs played in my mind.

Arabella inhaled, then slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Sorry I didn’t respond, I was purposefully ignoring you.” She smirked. “The only thing I’m doing right now is trying to find a scrap of will to live.” Her dark-blue eyes stared at the wall. “And I’m not finding it.”

I was going to ruin Arabella. Until she felt how I felt. Broken. Uncontrolled. Every. Single. Day.

You enslaved my daughter with that tattoo, and now she can’t leave the kings without pain.” Dick waved his hand like he wasn’t listening. “That has nothing to do with the tattoo.”

It’s the mating call!! That’s why it hurts

Dick continued like I hadn’t spoken, “Your current training group is among the strongest we have. So the gods have evaluated that they have enough ties among them to make up a single legion.” I narrowed my eyes. Foreboding skittered down my spine. A legion was a group of elite warriors, people whose lives were bound by more than circumstances or blood. It was about devotion and loyalty. Legions were the building blocks of war.

I mean, the woman had been clinically insane. No judgment though. We all struggled. Except, maybe judgment because she’d lit me on fire every night for years? At least she’d been consistent. It was hard to find people with discipline these days.

John tugged at my curl. “Come on, I don’t want to choose.” “I decided to kill Horace all by myself last time,” I pointed out. John sighed and mumbled against me, “You’re being a bitch.” “Don’t try to goad me into action.” I pulled back from his embrace. “You know it’s your turn to choose if we kill someone. You can’t just expect me to always decide. That’s rude.” We glared at each other.

“Is this a daughter thing?” he asked slowly. “Do you need sanitary products?” I blew out a smoke gun. And shot myself in the forehead. I was twenty-four, not twenty-five; obviously, I hadn’t started ovulating yet. Men were ignorant, dumb, ugly creatures. Frankly, I was done interacting with them. It wasn’t good for my constitution.

New life plan: figure out how to kill myself before the Legionnaire Games began.

Sadie and I locked eyes. “Kind of fun,” she whispered at the same time I said, “We’re so screwed.”

Does he agree with her? From what I’d seen, John and the kings were bisexual. It was stupid, but I wondered if they all secretly wished I was a guy. In the hall, the kings had said they thought I was disgusting as a woman, but I’d assumed they were trying to get a rise out of me. What if they meant it? They had constantly called me pretty boy, but no one had called me pretty since I’d revealed I was a woman. I grimaced at my ridiculous train of thought.

Whenever Arabella whispered to John, Orion asked me what she said because I had far superior hearing. We had a little arrangement. I told him everything I heard, and he told me everything he saw. It was part of the reason we were fated mates. We understood each other perfectly. And for some reason, what we both needed was to know every single thing Arabella did. Maybe it was because she was our slave? Maybe it was because we’d both been diagnosed as having psychotic, obsessive tendencies as children? Malum was the angry one; we were the neurotic ones.

As we ran around a bend, a woman’s familiar scratchy voice carried on the wind and said, “Go, best friend!” Sadie was nearby. I hated that bitch. From the way John swore, he agreed. I’d been sick with rage when I’d listened to Aran and her have sex in the shower. It didn’t matter that Arabella was a girl; I knew what I’d heard. Every slap. Every moan. At the time I’d convinced myself that it had sounded off. That they were faking it.

Afterwards, Orion described they were looking into each other’s eyes tenderly and I realized I’d been deluding myself. They’d fucked. Hard. I dug my nails deeper into my palms and let the pain calm me.

Lately, I’d been fixated on hurting a single person. I thought about her as I trained, ate, showered, jacked off, and slept. Arabella. My thoughts always spiraled in the same pattern. I’d give her a reason to forget how to breathe. I’d replace her precious little pipe and give her something thicker to choke on.

didn’t matter that she was a tall woman; she felt breakable. It was like Orion said. And it was unacceptable. I needed her strong so I could break her. No one else was allowed to hurt her.

Mentally, I was a slut. Physically, I was terrified of intimacy. Spiritually, I didn’t like men. I was confused.

Cobra scoffed. “You’re not allowed to date until you’re dead. You can date in the afterlife.” His jewels transformed into shadow snakes and crawled over his skin. “In this life, I’ll kill any man that touches you.”

It already killed me that we had to have sex with other people to sate our urges. When we found our missing mate and completed our soul bonds, I would shred anyone to pieces who tried to touch what was mine. Devils didn’t just love our mates; we owned them. Body, spirit, and soul. My mates were my destiny. People like Arabella would never understand. It was pure devotion.

Inhaling smoke, I sagged backward with relief and grinned through the pain. Drugs made everything better. All was well. Yes, I was delusional. Next question.

“No one gets to look at you,” he murmured as he stabbed at the open skin on my stomach. I didn’t get to respond because I jolted in pain. The sensation was ten times worse across my sensitive stomach. I was so busy counting I almost missed it. It took me a moment to register that he mumbled something else under his breath. “If anyone looks at your naked body, I’ll kill them.” “What?” I whispered. “What did you say?” John flashed his dimples and patted my head. “Almost done, Aran. Just hang in there a little more.” That wasn’t what he said.

I buried my head under a pillow. “It was just that one night. Those tacos were killer.” “Sure, Aran. The first step to getting help is admitting you have a problem.” The last thought that drifted through my mind before sleep claimed me was, he doesn’t call me Arabella like the kings. I like the sound of my name on his lips.

“Take it off,” Orion mouthed and gestured at my sweatshirt. I rubbed the blurriness out of my eyes and asked with confusion, “What?” Orion was covered in bruises and stitches and didn’t look well. His golden skin was pallid, and he was panting loudly from the exertion of standing upright. His lips were flat lines as he mouthed, “You’re ours. You don’t wear another man’s clothes.” Oh, it all made sense. The kings were lunatics.

My new aesthetic was cozy, drug-dependent swamp monster. Not to brag, but I nailed the look. Shuffling forward on aching joints, I leaned my head against the bathroom door and counted to ten. Inhaled drugs.

My top lip curled up with disgust because he could have her. She was nothing to us. Nothing. Arabella let him haul her closer and melted against his chest. My flames shot higher. Scratch that. John could have her when I gave her away. I’m in control, I repeated as I took a deep breath. It was a lie, and I knew it. The slave brand controlled me.

From their coy smiles and effervescent laughter, they still possessed a will to live. I made a mental note to ask them after the party where they got their energy from. Was it journaling, drinking green juice, or hitting men that kept the light shining in their eyes? I’d try anything.

Hours later, Malum’s silver eyes speared me as he bellowed his release. Because who didn’t love coming while staring into the eyes of their enemy? Normal people.

In a moment of lucidity, I panicked over the fact that I couldn’t find a single pair of underwear. The moment passed, and I quickly forgot about it. I was too tired to care as I pulled on my dry clothes.

positively depraved. Uptilted eyes were wide and staring directly at me. It hit me how stupid I’d been. Just because a monster was prettier and quieter than the others, it didn’t make it any less terrifying. It made it worse.

Before I could say I was fine (which I was definitely not), Scorpius was standing in front of us. He snarled at the students who bumped us, “Move out of the fucking way. Touch my legion mate again and you’re dead.” His milky, blind eyes flashed with violence. Legion mate. Interesting term. I was surprised he hadn’t said “slave.”

Case in point, my injuries were not cosmetic. Bones were broken, and my bruises ran deep. I just didn’t care enough to argue over the injustice of it all. According to Jinx, I was being tested, and it made the most sense that it was the gods who were responsible. They wanted me to act righteously. Well then, I was going to be the best person there ever was. Maybe. Eh, honestly. Probably not.

It was still one of the great mysteries of the realms how my darling Sadie had seen the psychotic snake bastard and thought, That one’s mine, I love him. It was one of the main reasons I insisted she go to therapy.