Page 79 of Psycho Beasts

They still didn’t respect me as a person.

They just wanted to own me sexually, order me around, and treat me like a simpering princess that needed saving, and when I’d refused, they’d turned nasty.

I scoffed as indignation burned through me.

How dare they treat me like this when I was putting aside my own wants so they could be safe and happy?

“Fuck men. I hope I die a virgin. That will show them.” I threw myself out of bed, unable to lie still and wallow for a second longer.

“Virginity rocks. Kill them all,” Aran chanted sleepily, patting the pillow while wrapping her other elbow around Jala’s neck and squeezing.

Before she could asphyxiate the pink-haired teen, I punched Aran in the gut and wrestled Jala out of her grip.

Both of them were still asleep, but Aran grinned widely, like she enjoyed trying to kill someone while unconscious.

Back in the shifter realm, at mandatory therapy with Auntie, I’d thought Aran was being dramatic when she’d said she wanted to kill everyone at all times.

Now that I knew her better, I 100 percent believed her.

A lifetime ago, I’d explained that the numb made me feel nothing, and Aran had said something about rage consuming her until she was burning alive.

Goose bumps made me shiver.

As I stood dwelling on the past and unfortunate circumstances that were our lives, suddenly the familiar voice of the numb echoed clearly in my head.

I’m ice; he’s fire. You need to complete it.

My blood froze.

The numb wasn’t activated, but the familiar voice had just spoken to me.

“What?” I whispered out loud. “How are you in my head?”

Silence.

My heart beat erratically. “How did you speak to me?”

Still nothing.

If the numb were a normal phenomenon that spoke to the half warriors in battle, why was it whispering riddles to me?

The numb always gave emotionless directions in battle.

It instructed me on how to punch; it didn’t whisper ambiguous directions about completing something.

“What do you mean, ice and fire? Do you mean Aran is fire? Who the fuck are you? Is the song of the hunt somehow ice?” I said as I looked around for an invisible intruder.

“Um, sis?” Lucinda asked with concern.

No voice responded.

“She’s hearing voices. Either she’s some type of cursed parasitic host, or her mind has deteriorated from too many concussions,” Jinx said with a “duh” tone like my theatrics were boring her. “Probably the latter.”

I made a face at her. “Go to sleep. Oh, wait, you can’t.”

“Real mature.” Jinx stroked Noodle.

Embarrassment streaked through me as I realized I’d just mocked a twelve-year-old for suffering from insomnia.