Psycho Devils (Cruel Shifterverse, #5)

by Jasmine Mas

“I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.”

“Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.” —Oliver Goldsmith

We were damned men. Three mated devils who couldn’t complete their soul bond because they were missing their fourth mate. Until we found our other Protector, we couldn’t touch one another like we wanted. Like we needed.

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.

Since he was our Revered, it was my duty as Ignis and Scorpius’s as Protector to keep him safe. The problem was that we were missing our other Protector.

After all, people in general were pathetic. They were a means to an end. Scorpius liked their pain. I liked their submission. Orion didn’t care about anyone. Until he did. Then things got dangerous.

“Men are so unwell.”

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

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

Sometimes life was a chill, but then there were the horrors. It was exhausting being a girl.

“Sorry I didn’t respond, I was purposefully ignoring you.”

“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.”

At the direction of the gods, the High Court is instituting the Legionnaire Games at Elite Academy.”

It was obvious what was happening. I needed a shopping trip.

While my slavers had been sleeping, I’d been wide awake still losing my mind. At least the screaming voices in the fire had returned. I’d missed them.

The depressive ambiance I’d spent hours carefully cultivating was ruined, and now I’d have to start wallowing all over again.

I mean, the woman had been clinically insane. No judgment though.

Sometimes a girl was just too tired to murder. My creative killing juices weren’t flowing.

Men were ignorant, dumb, ugly creatures. Frankly, I was done interacting with them. It wasn’t good for my constitution.

Unattractive men were kind of hot. I’d fuck them.

Each day last week I’d woken up and said my morning affirmation: “I am the victim.”

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

According to Sadie’s sources (allegedly the moon goddess herself, but I had my doubts about that), Jinx was a half-breed.

That word followed me. I was reclaiming it. In a coquette, vintage sunsets, sparkly fae wine, soft music kind of way.

Devils didn’t just love our mates; we owned them. Body, spirit, and soul.

A part of me melted at the thought of Malum stitching up his mate while he was injured himself. It made my heart hurt.

John’s expression hardened, and his eyes flashed. “No one touches you but me.”

I inhaled as much of the enchanted drugs as I could and pretended I wasn’t getting stabbed by my friend.

His words had something foreign unfurling in my gut, something new. A floaty sensation made my brain feel all fuzzy. I smiled up at him and nodded because I wanted to impress him. I’d do whatever I needed if it made him smile down at me like I was his entire world.

“No one gets to look at you,” he murmured as he stabbed at the open skin on my stomach.

John’s smell was more pleasant than the kings’ scent. Less aggressive. Warmer. It felt like home.

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.

I smiled. Oops. I was missing three teeth. Sometimes I was cool as shit.

Lately I was always cold, and I didn’t know why.

He hadn’t earned the right to hate her. But I had.

John was staking his claim.

Loyalty and devotion were tangible actions that could be shown. Soul bonds were real. Love was not. It was just a word.

Lately the demons seemed to be the only rational people.

Scorpius leaned closer. “He just called her ‘sinful blood.’ Any idea what that means?”

Her scent was sharper than usual. Colder.

I wanted to destroy her.

She was clearly in pain, yet she masked it. She put on a front for everyone. For some reason the fact that she was pretending pissed me off. She used sarcasm as a shield.

Now that I was staring at them, men were kinda ugly. I couldn’t look away.

The blacks of her corneas expanded until they consumed the whites of her eyes. It was like staring into the vacuum of space. I needed to look deeper. If only I could search the depths, I’d discover things I’d never known.

“I-have-the-ability-to-make-people-forget-things-if-they-look-into-my-eyes.”

If I explain things, then your motivations are muddled.

Jinx suffered, and she clearly wiped anyone’s memory who witnessed her episodes. Who knew what else she’d taken from us?

Everyone could betray me. Maybe it had been the increased isolation. Maybe it had been a chemical imbalance in my brain. Either way, after a week of everyone acting strange, I’d woken up to melancholy. The world had been gray.

Depression hadn’t slowly crept up on me like a wound left untreated. It hadn’t festered. The haze had hit me like a bullet. Numbness had ensconced my existence in a layer of impenetrable ice. It had never left.