Page 99 of Psycho Gods

I scoffed.

Ignored the wetness between my legs.

“You tortured me when I was a man and when I was a woman. Turns out you’re an equal opportunist piece of shit. How progressive.” I clapped mockingly, and manic chuckles burst from my throat. “Also, you are literally the opposite of a Protector. You’re a cruel, insecure bully.”

It was just so funny.

I sucked harder on my pipes, and everything became a little hazy.

Scorpius remained in harsh focus.

Shadows filled hollow cheeks, cheekbones glinted razor-sharp, unseeing, milky white eyes narrowed, and full lips curled back.

Something new flashed across his features, and his mask cracked. “What do you need from me?” His teeth clicked as he gnashed them. “How do I fix how terrible we’ve been? I understand now how horrible the things are that you’ve gone through.” He choked on the last word like he couldn’t say anything more.

What did he mean?

Why does he now understand?

“You can’t,” I whispered with confusion. “It’s too far gone.”

He flexed his hands.

Tilted his head to the side and slowly fell to his knees.

“What are you doing?” I gaped down at him. “Stand up.” I pulled at his wide shoulders.

“No, Arabella.” Scorpius’s voice was harsh, and he remained kneeling in the crowd of bodies.

Students and soldiers stopped dancing to stare.

Why was a king on his knees?

Confusion was written on all our faces as the sadomasochist bowed his head submissively. The posture was wrong on him. Foreign.

“Please forgive me, Arabella Alis Egan,” he spoke loudly so everyone could hear.

The weight of everyone’s attention was smothering.

I gritted my teeth. “Get up.” I tugged at his shoulders desperately.

“No.”

“I’m not joking, Scorpius. Stop this at once.”

He bowed lower and announced, “You’ve been wronged in despicable ways, and I have also wronged you. I vow to be your servant. From this day forward, let it be known that I am not a king of the sun god. I serve only you. I’m your hound.”

I stumbled back and covered my mouth, half expecting the sun god to strike him down for his blasphemy. Everyone knew the kings lived to serve him. That was their lives’ purpose, and they never shut up about it.

Women and men oohed and aahed in the crowd.

My breath came out in frosty puffs.

“She’s so lucky,” someone whispered next to me, and a person replied, “I’d kill to have him on his knees for me.”

They giggled.

“You don’t mean that.” I took another step back.

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