Page 102 of Psycho Gods

He threw his head back with laughter. “Are you hitting on me, Aran? Is this your attempt at flirting?”

“It depends.” I rolled the pipes between my lips. “Is it working?”

“Yes,” John said at the same time Luka whispered, “Fuck me. You can’t say things like that.”

“Why?” I asked, genuinely confused.

Luka leaned forward and whispered against the shell of my ear, “Because I’ll take you up on it. Aran, I’ll make you scream our names so loudly that everyone will know who you belong to.”

Chapter 15

Luka

PARTY

Belamour (noun): one who is loved.

DAY 9, HOUR 21

Aran was pressed flush against me, and I inhaled her wintry scent, dry ice exploding across my senses.

Music boomed from enchanted speakers and the room glowed with bright scarlet light.

The crush of bodies rocked around us.

We trapped her between us; John pressed flush against her back as I claimed her front.

My skin buzzed, but this time, the compulsion wasn’t telling me to keep her close and protect her. It was telling me to own her.

Mark her as mine.

Consume her.

Do depraved things to her.

Corrupt her.

Show her just what it meant to be the fiancée of an antisocial man with an attachment disorder.

I wanted Aran’s skin to tingle with pleasure like mine crawled with need. I wanted her to know my torment and understand what it meant that we owned each other.

When she’d accepted our betrothal jewelry, she’d agreed to tie her souls to ours.

Irrevocably.

Aran gazed up at me in the dark, her hooded eyes rimmed with dark bruises. My girl was tired and struggling with handling the weight of the war.

I wanted to shield her from all suffering.

I wanted to help her forget.

Cupping her face tenderly, I traced my thumb across her scar. The half crescent adorned the top of her cheek and enhanced her fragile beauty.

Warm breath tingled across my wrist as she leaned into my hand.

Melted against me.

She was an island of softness and trust in a harsh, jagged room of killers.