Page 103 of Psycho Gods

Loud music and gyrating hips. The scent of sweat and sex. Drugs consumed with desperation. Soldiers tried to forget.

She was different from all the men and women in this cursed castle.

I’d recognized her uniqueness the first day I’d met her, when she’d broken through my barriers. She wore it in her eyes, clear as day.

Aran was empathetic.

Terribly so.

In realms full of immortal beings where ruthlessness and cunning were admired above all else, she defied the norms.

Aran broke the equation of an individual’s power directly correlating with their callousness.

Case in point, I didn’t care about anyone but my twin, and the kings only cared about one another. The demons were consumed with themselves, and the angels thought they were the superior race. The shifters kept a close familial circle and distrusted outsiders.

We were all perfect soldiers because we killed others easily.

Slaughter or survive because immortality was a long time to live under another’s thumb.

Yet despite it all, Aran Alis Egan was compassionate and struggled to hurt others even though she was born with a crown and power in her veins.

How could one woman be so fierce, yet so caring?

The duality of man incarnate.

I stroked her chilled skin, and sooty eyelashes fluttered against the pad of my thumb.

Need burned in my lower gut.

Everything narrowed until all I could see was hooded dark blue eyes, wild blue curls, smoke curling from plush pink lips as Aran stared up at me like I was her savior.

Awareness exploded across my skin.

Because I wanted nothing more than to be her champion.

A tortured woman like her needed a tortured man like me; like Sisyphus, we were bound to suffer. Together.

Diamonds sparkled on her wrist, and the jewel of death hung heavy across her chest.

I was touching her.

She was at my mercy.

At last.

Since the party had started hours ago, John and I had stood against the wall, watching as she flirted with Sadie.

And even though I didn’t have an issue with the woman like my twin did—since she made Aran happy, that was all that mattered to me—it had still been frustrating to watch without touching. Claiming. Defiling.

Alas, she smiled differently when Sadie was around, so we’d stayed back in the shadows. Watched with amusement as they’d flung themselves through the crowd like battering rams.

They’d danced wantonly and drunk heavily. Taken random drugs from strangers with mischievous grins.

She’d been carefree.

Different.

She’d only sunk once into the darkness, but Cobra had slapped her and brought her back to reality. By the time John and I had realized what had happened, the snake shifter had disappeared into the crowd and the kings had arrived.

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