Page 147 of Psycho Gods

She was adorable.

And delusional.

I quirked my eyebrow and crossed my arms over my chest as I mockingly waited for her directives. Then I remembered I was trying to appear nonthreatening, and I softened my features, relaxed my posture.

Earlier her breathing had changed like she was in pain, and my stomach had plummeted because just being in my presence had hurt her. I didn’t want that.

I inhaled deeply. Her icy scent filled the small bathroom.

She was pure adrenaline to the veins.

Muscles flexing, senses heightened, I forced myself to keep my arms at my side. Fingers relaxed.

Listening to her wrestle with John had triggered something inside me.

They were both so noisy.

So playful.

I wanted them both.

I’d start with Arabella.

Cold wafted off her, and goose bumps prickled my skin from her proximity.

The bathroom was pathetically small, and just standing in front of the shower meant we were chest to chest, mere inches between us.

She breathed unsteadily, and her breath puffed against the exposed skin on my neck.

I held back a moan.

“So. Now that we’re in here, we’re going to…” Arabella trailed off like she wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted to command of me.

I swallowed down a mocking laugh because I knew exactly what she needed.

She needed to be cared for.

Looked after.

Pampered.

“Um,” she said awkwardly as she struggled to come up with an idea.

It took every ounce of control I possessed to appear receptive to directions.

It was the least I could do.

Ever since I’d learned that Arabella had been tortured as a child, a sick sense of guilt twisted my stomach. I woke up nauseous and went to bed feeling weak. It permeated every second of my day.

Just like myself, my Revered had suffered at the hands of others when she was too young to defend herself.

Yet I’d called her pampered. Weak. I’d tormented her and added to her distress.

I’d been a fool.

My chest ached with regret.

If Arabella was ever going to accept me as her Protector, I needed to build a relationship with her, which would only happen if I came across as nonthreatening.