Metamorphosis—Day 55, hour 5
I woke up to a body choking beneath me.
My bruised forearm was digging deep into John’s windpipe and crushing off his flow of air. He was pressed into the bed with a crimson face.
As I stared down, a horrible sense of foreboding washed over me.
What a way to start the day.
John opened his bulging eyes and flashed brilliant white teeth. He grinned at me like he wasn’t asphyxiating by my hand, and his dimples stood out in stark relief.
Had his eyelashes always been so long and full?
John’s grin turned cocky, and he winked at me like he was the one on top.
I exerted more pressure and asked, “Why am I in your bed?” My morning voice was rough and scratchy.
Last night, I’d fallen asleep on the floor with a comforter wrapped around me. John had tried to pull me into the bed, but I’d snarled and fought until he’d climbed in alone. I’d fallen asleep with his face hanging over the side of the bed, glaring down at me.
I knew I’d done the right thing.
Sure, things seemed good between us, but we still hadn’t talked through everything that had gone down. I didn’t feel comfortable with the situation even if he said it was fine.
There was a constant pit in my stomach.
I was waiting for John to dwell on what had happened and hate me.
Sleeping separately was the least I could do to protect myself.
At least, that had been the plan.
For some reason, I’d just woken up on top of him.
John smirked casually beneath me, like we were just two friends hanging out and his face wasn’t still turning three shades of purple.
I loosened the pressure a little. “Explain, John.”
He arched an eyebrow tauntingly. “My bestie doesn’t sleep on the floor.” Something intense flickered in his eyes. “You sleep in my arms.”
I forgot how to breathe.
Every day, the sheer gall of men astounded me.
“Don’t say things like that.” I tensed my thighs and leaned forward. “I have half a mind to finish you off right now.” I increased the pressure so my full body weight was flush against him.
John tipped his head back, and his Adam’s apple pressed into my palm. He chuckled, and his warm skin vibrated.
My toes curled.
Zips of concentrated pain streaked down my spine.
I froze.
John took advantage of my momentary pause, and with disturbing strength, he broke my choke hold and flipped us over.
I was at his mercy.
Pinned beneath his warm body, I drowned in sandalwood and musk.
“Next time,” John drawled lazily as his hooded eyes twinkled, “try to put up a fight, Aran. That was embarrassing.”
I bared my teeth and jackknifed my legs at his shins.
“Tsk, tsk.” He pressed his hips forward so I couldn’t move.
A hardness dug into my lower stomach.
The zips of pain became shooting streaks.
My vision blurred, and I struggled against his hold with all my strength.
John didn’t move an inch.
He leaned closer and wrapped his arm around my head. A network of veins trailed across his hands and stuck out in stark relief against his forearms.
I forgot how to breathe.
Somewhere along the way, I’d stopped viewing him as just a friend. He was an extremely handsome man that I spent every waking moment of my life beside.
Agony.
John rubbed his fist against the top of my head and ruffled my curls. “Where I’m from, we call this a noogie.”
I tried to speak, but he adjusted his arms so his veiny forearm was pressed against my mouth, gagging me. “Fshivjnavuq.” My voice was garbled.
“What was that, bestie? I can’t hear you.” John taunted.
I opened my jaw wider.
Then bit down hard until copper flooded my mouth.
John let out a low, rough noise.
I pulled my head back. Blood dripped down my chin, and I spat it out.
The muscles pinning me to the bed tensed, and John whispered, “Did I say you could spit?”
It took my brain a second to process what he’d said.
When I did, the pain exploded like grenades down my spine.
I made a mental note to add it to my list of times I’d been sexually harassed by my teammates.
I didn’t know who I was filing a complaint with, but someone in the High Court would be hearing from me.
“You’re such a pervert,” I said with a nonchalance I didn’t feel as I punched him in the kidneys and strained to push him off me.
Sometimes I forgot that John was a feared assassin with whipcord, steel muscles.
Now I remembered.
The thighs pinning me to the bed could run for miles, and the arms wrapped around my face had snapped the necks of ungodly.
John’s fingers caught on my curls, and he started rubbing my scalp. “Please, you know you love me.”
My sleepy brain ignored his erratic behavior and purred with delight.
I closed my eyes. “Ugh, that’s good.”
John’s fingers were magic.
The streaking agony down my spine was expected.
The duality of man—pain and pleasure.
After a few minutes of absolute bliss, John said something I missed under his breath, and he pulled away.
“No.” I opened my eyes. “I didn’t say you could stop.”
John licked his full bottom lip and grinned. “What do I get in return?”
“We’ll strike a deal.” I slapped at his limp fingers to try to get him to start massaging again. “You give me a head massage every day, and I’ll laugh at all your bad jokes.”
John slapped me back. “But you already do that?” He whined. “I need a better reward. How about you massage me back?”
I shook my head. “We both know you stink half the time and are too tired to shower. No way am I touching your nasty, sweaty ass. At least I’m always clean.”
John trembled dramatically. He threw his shoulders back like he was taking multiple bullets to the chest, then he flopped backward onto the bed. “How you wound me.”
I rolled out of the way and narrowly avoided being crushed.
What I didn’t say was that I low-key loved the scent of John’s natural musk.
After a long day of training, with adorably, messy hair, he always collapsed into bed with a grin while reeking of sandalwood and salt.
John chilled and went with the flow, and sometimes that meant falling asleep without showering.
Not relatable.
My smile faltered, and I picked at my lip.
I didn’t shower to be clean. I showered because I was covered in a grime that no amount of scrubbing could get rid of.
Also, I enjoyed singing moodily under the spray.
The demons had once walked in on me making up a song and we’d mutually agreed to never speak of it again. Since I’d gone off on a lyrical tangent and had rhymed “dying alone” with “traffic cone” it was probably for the best.
Some things were better not discussed.
Now John popped up above me and pulled my fingers gently away from my lip. He nudged my shoulder and asked, “What does the Greek symbol ligma stand for?”
I raked through my knowledge of the Greek alphabet. I couldn’t recall anything. “I don’t know. What?”
John’s smile was blinding. “Ligma balls.”
My eye twitched.
This was why everyone hated humans.
“That’s the stupidest”—I punched him in the gut—“joke I’ve heard in my life.”
He chortled. “I’m not the idiot who fell for it.”
He punched me back lazily like a cat playing with its favorite mouse.
With renewed vigor, I tried to get him in a chokehold, but he laughed and easily evaded my grasp.
We rolled around on the bed.
“Knock it off!” Malum ordered.
John and I stilled.
The raspy command was disturbingly loud in the quiet bedroom.
“Everyone, up.” Malum stalked half-naked across the room—layers upon layers of back muscle rippled—he flung the bathroom door shut.
It banged against the wall, cracked, and a hinge broke.
The fuzzy memory of him holding me in the shower and telling me that he was going to take care of me played like a bad trip.
In his bed, Scorpius yawned loudly and cuddled Orion against his chest. I tried to ignore the irrational part of me that wondered if they’d ever considered modeling. It was hard to look away from them.
Forcibly shaking the irrational thoughts from my head, I climbed off John’s bed.
Climbed being a generous term for falling over.
“Calf cramp,” I yelped as gravity slammed me to the floor. Sprawled on the rug I massaged my sore leg.
John leaned over the edge of his bed cocooned in blankets and peered down at me. “Eat a banana,” he said unhelpfully.
My eye twitched.
“Great advice,” I said sarcastically as I shivered from a phantom chill and hobbled to my feet.
It was the morning of the fourth competition.
I’d barely survived the last three.
Darkness swallowed me. Colors muted, and I struggled to take a deep breath.
The haze returned with a vengeance.
When Malum left the bathroom, I went to get ready for the awful day. Nerves ate at my stomach, and my hands shook as I dug through my clothes.
The new underwear I’d gotten from a servant last week was already missing.
I was too nervous to care.
Brushing my teeth like a zombie, I grimaced at my reflection in the mirror.
Whatever they were putting in our food to slow our healing rate was highly effective.
They’d said the Legionnaire Games were a psychological competition.
They lied.
I’d never known that bruises could turn a putrid shade of green and purple or that healing wounds got messier as they were reopened.
Now I did.
I didn’t bother to run water over my hair to try to define my curls. The turquoise mass was a frizzy nightmare beyond help. The deep cut under my left eye was becoming a permanent fixture on my face.
Fae prided themselves on their beauty and class.
A small smile curled my lips.
In the history of the realms, no fae had ever looked as horrible as I did now. I could guarantee it.
A spark of pride flared.
I pointed my toothbrush at the mirror like a gun and bared my teeth. Take that, Mother.
The door opened as Zenith entered, and I whirled around and tried to give off “she’s not having a mental breakdown in the mirror” energy.
Zenith scoffed and made a point of choosing the sink furthest from me.
I bowed my head in deference as I passed him.
He narrowed his eyes.
I winked, and he wrinkled his nose like he’d smelled something bad.
He was secretly obsessed with me. I could tell.
Unfortunately, my momentary god complex didn’t last long.
It never did.
Ten minutes later I sat at the breakfast table, debating whether I should try to kill the kings and eat my heart before the slave brand saved our lives.
I didn’t want to participate in another competition.
I picked at my lip, made a small ball out of the pile of dried skin, and put it in my pocket. You never know when you might need to make some money.
John made bad jokes while I came up with a business plan. It didn’t matter that I was technically rich, it was about having an entrepreneurial spirit.
I picked harder.
John smacked my hand away from my lip.
He was probably poor. He didn’t understand the hustler lifestyle.
My knee shook under the table.
All the windows in the hall were boarded up, so everything was cast in darkness.
It didn’t help.
Across the table, shadows caressed the kings. High cheekbones, sharp jawlines, and sunken cheeks stood out in stark relief.
They looked like the devils they were.
CREAK. WHISTLE.
I dug my nails into flesh and made a concerted effort to not look up at the arched ceiling.
Students tipped their heads back and gawked.
No one spoke.
Even the mutilated man on the tree didn’t gurgle like usual.
CREEEEEEAAAAAAAK.
I jolted in my seat.
The rafters moaned as winds battered against them, and plates and glasses clattered.
Looked like all the rumors had finally come to fruition.
The storm had started.
I finally understood what all the gossip was about. The noises outside the academy were furious. Punishing. Terrifying.
This was no normal storm.
BOOM.
Thunder cracked, and the academy swayed back and forth from the force of the collision.
The cosmos themselves were falling.
The realm imploding.
Was the moon colliding with the planet?
Food fell off plates and ale splashed all over tables as the room shook.
A branch cracked and fell from the sacred tree. It slammed down atop an unsuspecting royal student, who crashed to the floor, unconscious.
Everyone stared at the limp student. No one helped.
When breakfast finally concluded, a stampede of competitors and students rushed from the hall.
Sadie slammed into me in the crush and asked, “Do you want me to braid your hair?” She grimaced as she took in my wild curls.
I couldn’t find my voice, so I shook my head to tell her no.
I was too nervous to sit still.
Sadie nodded in understanding and wrapped her arms around me. She squeezed.
Bodies crushed around us, and I inhaled her cranberry scent, grateful for the moment of peace with her.
A gust of wind battered the boards, and a glass pitcher on the table next to us shattered. Pieces splintered around us.
Students shrieked in surprise.
Sadie gripped me harder.
“How dare you touch her?” Malum forcibly ripped me out of her grasp.
I stumbled back, and Orion caught me. He saved my fall, but he didn’t release me. His hands splayed across my shoulders, and he leaned his head into my hair.
Orion inhaled with his eyes closed. “Relax, sweetheart,” he whispered.
I relaxed back into his embrace.
He pressed his soft lips against my temple, and I closed my eyes. His fingers massaged my shoulders.
I relaxed into his touch.
“Did she hurt you?” Scorpius sneered cruelly, and I blinked with confusion. Was he really asking me if Sadie had hurt me? My best friend.
Malum said gruffly, “I don’t want her near you.”
I jolted back to reality.
I didn’t need men to comfort me.
Clearing my throat, I awkwardly stepped away from Orion, who was reaching for me like he didn’t want to let me go.
Sadie made a heart with her hands and blew me a kiss as she disappeared back into the crowd of students. I watched her go for a long moment.
Fear made my heart thump painfully in my chest.
Steel eyes widened at the expression on my face. Malum made a strangled noise as he looked down at me. “I know I overreacted, but I don’t like how she—”
I cut him off and said roughly, “My loyalties will always be to her.” I turned away from the kings and threw myself into the crowd.
Sadie accepted me for who I was, and I accepted her. We always stood up for each other. That was how true loyalty worked.
Bodies pushed and shoved as everyone moved in a frenzy.
Where we were running to, I didn’t know.
I bumped against the wall.
Orion yanked me roughly to the side, and I tasted ozone on my tongue. Lightning struck inches from my skin.
A missed opportunity.
To feel something.
“Be careful,” Malum snapped as he manhandled both Orion and me into our room.
Inside the bedroom, seconds crawled by like eons.
I paced back and forth. Stared at the door.
Waited.
When Lothaire finally entered, I stopped breathing. Immediate lung collapse.
Clammy sweat poured from my pits.
I bounced on my feet.
Lothaire’s lips moved, and it took my brain a second to pick up the noise. “The gods have changed the rules for the final competition.” His posture gave nothing away.
Different is good.
Lothaire inhaled and breathed out heavily. “Each team captain will choose who competes for their legion.”
I rocked back on my heels with relief. Most of my teammates were healthy, and even the demons had mostly recovered. I was clearly the worst choice.
Thank the sun god.
My head spun with lightness.
“However, there’s a catch,” Lothaire said quietly.
Time froze.
My stomach plummeted, and foreboding slammed into me.
Nothing else had to be said.
I knew.
I was doomed.
The haze crept over me, and all the colors dimmed.
Lothaire stared at the wall as he spoke. “The gods have given two teammates for each captain to choose between.” He turned to Malum. “You must select one of them.”
My hands trembled as I shoved my pipe between my lips.
John shuffled closer.
I took a step away from him.
Lothaire said quietly, “You must choose between Arabella and Orion.”
His words echoed like a gunshot.
Seven words. Seven bullets. I took each one to the chest.
No time to dodge.
The trembling in my hands became a full shake, and I pushed my fingers against my bruised eyes.
Everything went white.
Lothaire said something else, but I’d stopped listening. There was a commotion around me, and I barely registered it.
Nothing mattered anymore.
If it were anyone else, I might have had a chance.
Orion was Malum’s world.
A few days ago, Malum had lost control and nearly killed us all because he thought his mates were in danger.
This wasn’t a choice for our captain.
I’d never had a chance.
Someone jostled against me and knocked my fingers from my eyes.
The room was in shambles.
Lothaire was gone.
The wingback chair was tipped over and lying on the other side of the room. Scorpius restrained Orion, who was bucking and punching, trying to break his hold.
Malum was covered in flames, and his expression was devastated. Like someone had died. John and Vegar gestured wildly at him as they yelled.
He didn’t argue back.
Amid the chaos, Zenith stood still and stared at me.
I stared back.
The demon’s lips curled down in the smallest frown.
I scoffed and inhaled smoke. I didn’t need his pity.
Bang. Crash. Scorpius flung Orion against the wall, then slapped a hand over his mouth.
A muffled, high-pitched sound burned my ears.
Scorpius pressed both his hands against Orion’s mouth. Then the blind devil reared his fist back and knocked out his mate with a well-placed blow to the temple.
Orion slumped forward, and Scorpius caught him.
Shit. I’d never thought I’d see the day they hurt each other.
Across the room, darkness expanded in the air around John as he took a step forward and jammed his pointer finger against Malum’s chest.
Flames sizzled as the edge of Malum’s sleeve caught fire.
“Let’s go,” I said through chapped lips.
No one listened.
I fisted my hands. “Everyone, stop!”
The men stilled and turned to me.
“I know I’m fighting.” My voice cracked. “We need to go before I’m late.”
I stalked toward the door.
“Aran,” John said at the same time Malum said, “Arabella,” and they moved in front of me to block my path.
“Don’t,” I whispered.
I pulled my shoulders back. Face blank. Eyes dead.
Malum opened his mouth.
I held my hand up to his face and looked away because I didn’t need him to give me some weak excuse.
I knew the score.
Malum’s jaw closed with a click, and he looked away from me. Pink stained the tops of his cheekbones, and he fisted his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Pain scoured my chest like I’d been stabbed.
I expected it, but still. Wow. Disappointment washed over me because he was so predictable.
So much for him saying he was sorry. So much for him washing my hair in the shower. So much for holding my hand as I lay limp in pain. So much for pretending he was different.
So much for taking care of me.
Men were all the same.
Empty. Promises.
I slammed my shoulder into his as I walked past.
In the hall lightning streaked down in quick succession like it was punctuating the uselessness of the situation.
There was a smacking sound and swearing as John punched Malum.
I ignored my teammates.
With a long puff, I blew out Horse, and he settled onto my shoulder in a cloud of smoke and wings.
He cawed violently. I nodded in agreement.
There was a reason I’d never liked Sadie’s romance books.
A man was no woman’s savior.
Never had been.
Never would be.
I stepped out into the storm with my head high, and I walked straight into fate’s cruel arms.
For the fourth time in a row.
