Psycho Beasts (Cruel Shifterverse, #3)

by Jasmine Mas

Xerxes rolled his eyes. “I still hate all of you. I’m doing this for personal reasons.”

“I definitely still hold a grudge,” Cobra sneered. “Same. Just a little,” I said honestly as I swung back and forth from the ceiling.

The story of my life should have been titled Sadie: The Bitch Who Was in Pain. Existence fucking hurt.

Xerxes rasped softly, “I want to show you my nest.” My heart skipped a beat. I whispered softly, “Do you lay eggs?” Had I missed the signs all along? Was Xerxes part bird, part kitten?

In that moment, I learned something very important about myself: I had a praise kink.

I hated to be dramatic (not really; I totally would have thrived in the theater),

It was nice having my best friend beside me. Sure, she was homicidal, but who wasn’t these days?

“You know what is hotter? Respect.” T-shirt slogan material.

Didn’t anyone want five minutes to think it over? Make a pros-and-cons list, cry dramatically into their pillow, attempt to drown themselves in the bathtub, fight the don to the death? There were still options.

“She said that men were mostly useless, and I was saving myself a lot of unnecessary emotional energy.”

Sweat, Suffer, Survive—A fun little remake of “Live, Laugh, Love.” Gotta respect the angsty creativity. Whoever had written it was definitely in their feels. Ten out of ten, inspired.

(I was confident enough in myself to admit she had the “it” factor, while I had the “are you sure you took a shower” factor),

I gasped with hurt. “Take it back. You said my muscles were looking bigger, you lying cow.” “Moo, bitch.” Aran released my limbs from her death grip and climbed off the bed.

“No chance in shit do you get the easy out while I’m stuck living with Jinx. Do you know she calls me a cannibal whenever we’re alone? Who does that?”

Now I didn’t have to enslave anyone with my blood powers and fight to the death against the don. What a glorious day.

Why did I have to be such a good person? I better be nominated for sainthood.

There was something so cruel about having to fight when all you wanted to do was die.

“You can’t leave us with Aran,” voices wailed back, and we all cried harder at the thought of them being stuck with Aran.

Jala cried harder. “Thank the sun god she’s gone. I woke up to her choking out Jess, and she threatened to scalp me if I interfered.” “There, there.” I dried her tears and squeezed her gently with my still-very-broken arm. “She does it to all of us. It’s how she says, ‘I love you.’” “Really?” Jess narrowed her watery eyes, clearly unconvinced. “I have no idea, but that’s what I tell myself.”

He didn’t move an inch, just kept standing with his legs spread aggressively and penis out. A real power stance.

There was a small growth protruding from the springy blond hairs at the top of his shaft.

He has a spur!!!

What he wanted to show me so badly. The knot started to vibrate.

It what, now??

I’d found my religion. She was pinned beneath me.

Denial was my bestie.

Cobra snarled, “I’m not talking to some quack doctor about the fact that I own my kitten.” I clapped my hands in his face. “I’m choosing to ignore that, so I don’t stab you. Also, I’m going to find Aran right now so I can talk shit about you.”

Cobra, who was walking past at that exact moment, tripped and slammed his face into the wall. “Buy that. Immediately,” he croaked.

For the sake of feminists everywhere, I ignored the way my core fluttered when he said they owned me.

“Please, don’t mind me,” Aran drawled. “Should we all do celebratory anal now that we’ve established we all love each other?”

“No, please continue,” Aran said. “I only puked in my mouth six times.” She lowered her voice in a mockery of Ascher’s. “Oh, baby, I love you so much I just wanna protect you and have your babies and be a little bitch for you.”

Aran rolled her eyes. “Everyone is so sensitive these days. I only choked him a little. You just can’t do anything anymore. It’s ridiculous.”

If they really loved me, technically, they’d want me to kill them for betraying me.

A horrifying realization hit me: Was I becoming a villain? I do look good in black.

“I don’t understand why she kicked us out. That was so rude,” Aran said with annoyance as we entered the foyer. I threw my hands up in agreement. “I get it—we’re not perfect—but she doesn’t have to be such a bitch about it? Like what does she want me to do, cry all day because I have terrifying scars and a cool knife? Sorry I’m not lame.” Aran nodded aggressively in agreement. “Exactly. Like okay, I’m not perfect. Sometimes I smother people in my sleep. It happens.”