Page 11 of Psycho Shifters
I was on the lawn of a war compound, on the front line of a war between monsters.
In theory, this was a good thing. If I was near a portal, I could escape from this shitty place.
In reality, this was a nightmare.
Lucinda was still away at school, and now I had no idea how to get to her. I couldn’t escape through a portal without my little sister.
Then my sluggish brain chose that exact moment to remember the events at the lake.
Like a strong, independent woman, I keeled over and vomited into the snow. There wasn’t much in my stomach, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten.
I gagged dramatically and choked on my spit, hacking with my back arched in front of the three gods.
It wasn’t my cutest moment.
“Disgusting, pathetic creature,” someone sneered mockingly beside the tattooed man.
I made the mistake of looking over at the second man’s face.
Holy shit.
He was gorgeous.
He looked like an ancient statue of a marble hero, and his skin was so pale that his light-turquoise veins sparkled.
An inky swath of hair fell around his eyes—a deep emerald that was darker and more vibrant than the coniferous trees in the forest behind him.
The horned god’s features were so harsh they were intimidating, but this pale god was classically handsome.
He was like a statue of the sun god, like a painting of an angel from the rumored god realm, like an annoying bastard who thought he was hot shit.
He had a strong jawline, icy cheekbones, a straight nose, and a wickedly sinful mouth that sneered down at me.
The holy fuck on top of the cake was hundreds of emeralds and diamonds melded into his skin in a fantastical glitter.
The little jewels decorated his cheekbones and crawled down the side of his neck.
“Obsessed much?” His perfect upper lip rolled up in disgust.
Yep, all men sucked.
“I’m just confused about why your skin is covered in rocks. It’s weird.” I flipped my hair over my shoulder as I acted like his jewels weren’t the prettiest thing I had ever seen.
Unfortunately, my white hair was a frozen rat’s nest, so it ruined the effect.
My stomach pinched, and I thought back to the little rats at the tavern.
I hoped they would be okay without me. They were going to miss their momma.
Yes, I had proclaimed myself the mother of rats.
It was a rare, powerful role that only the strongest women could hold. Or the ones that had access to cheese.
Either way, they were my babies, and I missed them.
I stopped worrying about my rats, because the horned man took a step toward me.
I took two steps back.