Psycho Gods (Cruel Shifterverse #6)

That was the part the men kept forgetting.

John’s eyes filled with sadness as he twirled a wet curl. “We don’t need to love you, but we do. We know you can protect yourself, but you shouldn’t have to—please don’t keep secrets.”

I dropped the necklace. Feeling pathetic, I admitted, “I don’t want to take it off.”

It vibrated warmly against my chest, a comforting reminder that they cared.

I wasn’t alone.

Not anymore.

The twins exhaled loudly with relief.

Malum turned off the shower, and I was startled as I realized the kings had moved. The three of them were crowding around the edge of the tub.

Five sets of eyes stared at me like they were trying to see into my soul and uncover any secrets I might have.

There was a loud crash, and the twins shifted to shield me with their bodies. The kings whirled and crouched in unison, a shield of muscles and aggression.

I stood on my tiptoes to look over John’s shoulder.

Malum flung fire through the bathroom.

The door, which was already half hanging off its hinges because of Malum, was thrown open.

The demons dodged the ball of flames.

The men relaxed.

Vegar’s eyes widened as he took in the ruined bathroom, and Zenith blinked in shock behind him.

The demon’s mouths opened and closed as they took in the scene.

Vegar pointed at me. “You’re an idiot.” He shook his head like he was disappointed.

“Wow,” I said, “Blame the only woman for the men’s destruction.”

Vegar flung his hands in the air, inky lines trailing down his face. “They’re fucking idiots—their bullshit is expected.” He waved dismissively at the men, then pointed again at me. “But I thought you were better than them. You’re supposed to be beyond this display of stupidness.”

I glared back at him. I totally respected holding women to a higher standard (because we were better than men in every way), but this was taking it too far.

“But I did nothing,” I deadpanned.

Vegar rolled his eyes. “Control them.” Zenith winked at me.

I choked. “They’re not my dogs?”

“Are you sure about that?” Vegar asked in a disbelieving tone, like he thought I was an idiot.

“We did pledge to serve as your hounds,” Orion whispered. Scorpius and Malum nodded in agreement.

John covered his laughter with a cough, and Luka slung his arm around my shoulder.

I had no words.

The demons shook their heads and walked away. Vegar called over his shoulder, “We’re going to have to give a battle report tomorrow and deal with soldier losses. Stop with the bullshit.”

“We’re done,” Malum said with exasperation, like it was obvious his meltdown had concluded.

Personally, that was not obvious to me, but what did I know?

I slumped against the twins and asked, “Can we sleep together tonight?”

John went still against me. “I thought we covered this?” his voice brimmed with concern.

It took me a moment to realize what he was insinuating. “Not like that,” I groaned. “I can barely keep my eyes open.”

He brushed wet hair behind my ears. “Sure, you can sleep on me tonight. Luka gets the floor.”

Luka stiffened but didn’t argue.

John lifted me over the mangled side of the tub—concrete had fallen from the ceiling and crushed part of it—and he escorted me out of the ruined bathroom.

Malum blocked the door. He cleared his throat, and his cheeks turned bright pink. “Actually, could all of us sleep—together?”

I blinked, unsure if I’d entered an alternative dimension.

“You three want to sleep with me and the twins?” I asked. “Tonight?”

“Personally, I want to fuck you and John,” Scorpius said boldly. “At the same time. Preferably, while I choke the living daylights out of you both.”

Everyone gaped at him.

“Ignore him,” Orion mouthed. “We just want to sleep.” He peeked at Luka shyly.

Malum rubbed the back of his neck and said, “We need the physical contact, especially after the battle, and—everything we’ve learned.”

He continued, “Since we know the twins are now your husbands”—he gasped like he was choking—“we want to show you we are…willing to compromise.”

“How would we fit?” I asked.

Malum looked chagrined. “I have an idea.”

An hour later, I stared at the ceiling. John clung to my left side, and Luka was reaching across him to play with my hair. Orion’s arm was flung over me from the right side. He was lying next to Scorpius, and both of them were lying on top of Malum.

We were a pile of bodies.

The kings had pulled all our mattresses off the bunks and pushed them together in the middle of the room to make a superbed.

The five of us were buried under a mountain of blankets.

I shivered, and the men shifted around me.

Someone mumbled something, then an arm pressed against my right side. It radiated warmth. I sighed with relief as my toes curled with delight.

“Go to sleep,” Malum whispered underneath his mates.

I yawned, “G’night.”

John whispered something I couldn’t hear and pressed a soft kiss against my cheek. I smiled.

As sleep claimed me, my smile dropped away.

The nightmares came quickly.

Mother sliced an enchanted knife through my back while I screamed. This time, guards had to hold me down because I was fighting for my life. Begging. Pleading. Another guard joined the four restraining me.

But for the first time, I recognized it wasn’t real.

That time in my life was over.

My present was filled with something I’d never had growing up: love.





Chapter 45





Scorpius





TORTURER’S BREATH





Fike (verb): to move restlessly.





DAY 30, HOUR 23


When I’d overheard Arabella tell Sadie that the wound on her back caused pain when she was aroused, I’d blacked out with unadulterated rage.

The world had gone silent.

The emotions that had ripped through my sternum had made me want to tear ungodly apart with my bare hands. All I’d been able to hear was Arabella’s voice on repeat in my brain—the resignation in her tone as she’d whispered about how her mother had mutilated her.

I’d wanted vengeance.

Craved violence.

The urge to hurt someone, myself, anyone, had hit me like a tsunami. Voicing what I’d heard aloud to my mates and twins was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do, second only to watching Arabella suffer in the Legionnaire Games.

It was a dagger through the heart.

How much more could one woman go through? How was she surviving?

Her male disguise had been a shock, her secret heritage had been a surprise, the slur carved into her back had been unacceptable, but this was too far.

When I’d told the other men, their breathing patterns had changed. Their feet stumbled, joints popping as they’d struggled to stay upright.

Corvus had carried Arabella through the blizzard, back to the room, and deposited her in the shower. When asked why she’d kept such a horrible secret, Orion had said she’d shrugged.

Shrug: a gesture that conveyed indifference.

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