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“Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.” —Oliver Goldsmith
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.
Yes, my aesthetic was mental illness; no, I didn’t want to talk about it.
My shoulders ached from carrying the weight of being the coolest person at the academy.
I was no man’s princess. However, I was a whore. Being a slut wasn’t a title, it was a lifestyle.
Orion’s tattoo translated to “we came.” Scorpius’s—“we saw.” Mine—“we conquered.”
I crouched so we were at eye level. “This is how it’s going to go.” I clicked my tongue. “We own you.” Click. “As soon as Lothaire finds our mate, we’ll cut the brand from your flesh and sever this bond.” Click. “You won’t interfere with our mate bond forever, and you’ll never know our secrets. Not while I live and breathe.” Instead of cowering like I expected, Arabella sat up, and her eyes shone bright with excitement. “Cutting off the tattoo will sever the bond? Then I’ll cut it now.”
“Stop fondling me like a freak. And if you think I’ll act like your slave, then you need to be lobotomized. Actually—” She paused like she was thinking. “I recommend just preemptively euthanizing yourself. Your personality is messy, and I don’t see it improving.”
Smiling men always creeped me out.
I needed her strong so I could break her. No one else was allowed to hurt her.
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.
I’d do whatever I needed if it made him smile down at me like I was his entire world.
My new aesthetic was cozy, drug-dependent swamp monster. Not to brag, but I nailed the look.
I’d massacre cities just to make her smile.
“Your beauty is otherworldly.”
“I took one look into your psycho blue eyes, and I knew you were going to be mine.”
Their opinions were like male thongs. Useless. Disturbing. And literally no one asked for them.
Cobra smirked as he revealed, “In every species that has fated mates, the body knows before the mind does. I couldn’t take my snake back even if I wanted to. Our shadow snakes recognize our fated mate before we do. It left my flesh forever to live on hers so I’ll always know where she is and if she’s in danger. I’ll always be around to protect her.”
Some people fought their demons. I fucked mine.
“I never said you couldn’t call me Daddy.” My jaw dropped.
“Keep staring at me like that and I’ll let you feel the rest of my piercings.”
“Maybe try lying on the floor to ground yourself. It can help panic attacks,” I pointed out helpfully and crossed my arms over my chest to demonstrate. “Deep breaths.” Malum snarled and gnashed his teeth like a rabid animal. I spoke slowly. “No, you have to suck in through your nose.” I pointed to my nostril and sucked in. “Then try to release it through your mouth.” I nodded at him as I blew out. There was a sizzling sound as his shirt caught on fire. I narrowed my eyes. “I feel like you’re not trying.”
I arched my brow back at him and asked in a snooty tone, “You couldn’t have gotten anything bigger?” Malum choked. Orion’s jaw dropped.
The weak fear what they are not.”
A man was no woman’s savior.
“I don’t care that your mother’s dead. That is not enough. Whoever served her will burn by my hand. Whoever failed to help you will burn by my hand. Whoever was within a hundred-mile proximity to her when she did this will burn by my hand. I swear it on the honor of the House of Malum. You will be avenged.”
“Because I love you, dude. I have since the moment I woke up to find you above me on the cot, choking me out. The moment you opened your perfect lips and blamed me for your violence, I was a goner.”
It wasn’t my job to judge her; it was my job to love her.
She was the definition of a muse. She was ethereal. She was hilarious. She was breathtakingly gorgeous. She was grumpy and violent.
I blinked. And punched him in the throat.
My soul’s taste in men was officially a form of self-harm.
