God of Fury (Legacy of Gods, #5)

by Rina Kent

Early morning light slips from between the huge centuries-old trees and hits Nikolai’s face. Something curious happens then. Under the soft yellow light kissing his cheek and right eye, the blue lightens to a chilling turquoise, revealing tiny flecks of gray in the irises. Blue on gray. Fascinating.

“You haven’t exactly been subtle. The answer is no.” “I can work with a no.” “You’re wasting your time. I’m straight.” “That’s the third time you’ve told me that. Someone is trying to prove a point.” He slaps my shoulder. “But, hey, whatever lets you sleep at night, lotus flower.”

I shove him away, hard, and break into the fastest run of my running history. I eat the distance back to the mansion in no time. Forget my routine. I need to protect something a lot more important. My sanity.

So I’ve picked up running lately.

HE WANTS TO KEEP UP WITH BRANDONNN

I had to be a caveman and jerk off alone while picturing that blotch of red creeping up Bran’s neck when I growled in his ear or the goosebumps covering his skin when I locked him in place with a hand on his nape.

He didn’t fight. Again. He just lay there begging to be fucking used. Though he’d tell you otherwise. He’s kind of an asshole, that guy. While I’ve been having a blast running with him the past couple of days, I have a feeling it’s not…mutual.

Which is why I’m back for round three. I wait by the Elites’ mansion entrance, jogging in place and punching the air. I can’t stay still. Not when the mere thought of Bran in his shorts and fitted T-shirt sends blood rushing to my groin.

For two days, I’ve only been thinking about bugging the fuck out of him. Five thirty in the morning is my favorite time of the day until further notice.

Can’t have their cameras catching me and reporting back to the major douchebag Landon. Not that I’m opposed to pummeling that bitch to the ground and cracking his skull in two, but I’d rather not trigger any complications when I’m trying to get into his brother’s pants. Or ass. Anyway, lotus flower keeps searching his surroundings and I remain hidden just to fuck with him.

Yesterday, I jumped to his side as soon as he rounded the corner and he was far away from the mansion’s cameras. He looked at me with wide eyes and slightly parted lips, and even though that expression lasted for a fraction of a second, you can bet I added it to my mental catalog full of everything Brandon King.

He stops a few yards away on the dirt road and I get a front-row seat of his side profile. Is he sure he’s not interested? Because he dressed up so prettily for me. Though he does wear the same clothes in different colors, there’s something about today’s color. Blue brings out the blue in his mysterious, snobbish eyes.

Though I’d rather he go shirtless so I can get a front-row seat to his body and possibly sink my teeth into it. Figuratively, of course. Who the fuck am I kidding? It’s definitely literally.

I got a better reaction from him by plucking out his AirPods, blondie.

She pushes back, smiling like a model, her face soft as she coos at him and kisses the corner of his mouth. Disgusting. Oh, look at that. Brandon’s favorite word.

Who the fuck are you, Clara, and what’s your favorite way to die?

His gaze flies to mine and I hold it, locking my eyes with his robotic ones as I cross my arms. Show me what you got, straight boy.

I relish the subtle change, how his expression morphs from control to conflicted emotions. Hate? Lust? Both fucking hot, if you ask me.

He didn’t even speak to me, but a mere look is enough to turn a man into the worst sinner.

Bran’s eyes widen, and yeah, he’s definitely not focusing on Clara one bit right now. Not even a fraction of his attention is on her. Just to fuck with him, I roll my bottom lip beneath my teeth, then mouth, “Wanna give me a hand?”

I mean, he could’ve gotten that because of kissing her. It couldn’t have possibly been me. He’s straight. Insert rolling of eyes here.

Can you send me your playlists that you listen to all the time? Not really into rock, but I love discovering new music. Also, isn’t rock too extreme for your prim-and-proper image? Not that I’m judging. I actually dig the contradiction. Kinda makes it fun to try and figure you out.

get married

Hello, lotus flower’s inbox, lovely to see you again this evening. You looked hot today. Not that I’m hitting on you or anything since you’re sooo straight. Let’s consider this my hopeless one-sided crush on a straight guy. You don’t have to reciprocate. Unless you want to *eyebrow wiggle emoji* *sunglasses emoji*

Killian’s lying in his bed like a Sleeping Beauty, sans the beauty, and his new girlfriend, Glyn, and Gareth are by his side. But that’s not what makes me stop. It’s Glyn’s beautiful specimen of an older brother. Also known as the asshole Brandon. In my house.

Happy to crush your hopes, lotus flower.

“Now, what do we fucking have here? Did a lotus get lost?”

but then he lifts his hand to the back of his neck and pulls. Hard. As if he has a beef with his own hair. That’s it, lotus flower. Break for me.

Thank you for your services, cousin. If it weren’t for him, Glyn’s brother wouldn’t be here.

“If you wanted to see me, you should’ve told me and I would’ve given you a tour.”

He nearly walks into me and has to stop abruptly, his throat working up and down, and I can’t help but stare at that gorgeous Adam’s apple. I want to bite it. Hard. Maybe draw blood in the meantime. The red would look fucking beautiful against his fair complexion.

“Are you allergic to shirts or something? Why are you always half naked?” “Because I look fucking awesome and it’s a pity to hide it. Also, does this mean you were checking me out?” “Nonsense. It’s impossible to miss your constant state of nudity.” “Constant state of nudity. Jesus. Chill, my dude. You sound like a judge in court.” “I’m not your dude.” He stresses the word as if it’s an insult and starts to shift past me.

“But I wasn’t. I stopped after…you know, your public make-out session with Clara, whom you clearly asked to come to that specific place at that specific time on purpose. What were you trying to prove, lotus flower? Because the way I saw it, you got hard when you had your eyes on me. Not her.”

One minute, I’m standing there, and the next, he crushes my windpipe with his arm as he shoves me against the nearest pillar. My head hits the harsh stone and pain explodes in my skull, but I don’t feel it. I can’t. Not when his eyes blaze a fierce blue, savage and so out of control. Hands down, the sexiest view I’ve ever seen.

“Listen to me, you thick fucker. I’ve been tolerating your nonsense for far too long, but enough is enough. You’re not my peer, friend, or anything in between. So crawl back into your hole and ...

“Talk dirty to me...

GODDDDD

I love that he lost control enough to get physical. Up close and personal.

No, it’s the less glamorous version. Babe. Tell me the truth, did you get a boner because you were kissing her or because I got an erection for you? It’s not good form to look at a guy’s hard-on when you’re kissing your girlfriend, don’t you think?” “Nikolai,” he growls again, the sound masculine and fucking delicious. I want to reach out and suck it from between his lips and jam it down my throat. But most of all, I love that his control is unraveling, ripping at the edges, and leaving a mess of goo in its wake. This is the hottest I’ve ever seen him, and I’ve always found him mouthwateringly sexy.

Right now, though, I don’t think I can take it slow or easy. If I’m left to my own devices, I’ll fuck him all up for good. I’ll throw him down and have my way with him. There won’t be patience or diplomacy. There will be choking, grunting, fucking, fucking, a...

“Mmm. I love the sound of my name on your lips. Say...

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” His arm presses further into my neck until it’s hard to breathe, but if I have to smash my own vocal cords to egg him on, that’s exactly what I’ll do. “Tell me more. I’m getting all hot and bothered with your foreplay. I love it when you curse, baby.” “You fucking—” He cuts himself...

I can see him slowly pulling himself together and eclipsing behind that giant wall. Hiding. Retreating. Nah, hell no. Fuck that. I grab his free arm and shove him with my body mass and that’s when the most beautiful thing happens. Brandon Uptight King steps back once, twice, and lets me push him, his eyes glazed over, and a tremor rushes through his entire body and beneath my fingers. He downright flinches when his back hits the opposite wall, his slightly flushed skin looking like goddamn art against the dark-red wallpape...

My chest presses to his and I can feel his heartbeat thundering against mine—thud, thud, and fucking thud—as I wr...

Bran would hit me if I were to say this out loud, but he’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

I inch my lips close to the corner of his as I whisper, “You want to know what I think, lotus flower? I think you were fighting your goddamn demons to kiss her. The deeper you went, the more forced it looked. The longer you had your mouth against hers, the more burdened you looked, so it’s safe to say you weren’t hard because of her.” “Shut your fucking mouth,” he says and tries to push me with his other hand. I snatch his wrist and slam it on the wall above his head. His throat works and he shivers against me. Goddamn shivers. I’m going to devour him fucking whole and leave no crumbs.

“Your bossiness turns me the fuck on, baby,” I murmur, my lips an inch away from his jaw.

“But you didn’t get hard for Clara, did you, baby?” I bite out, inching closer. I’m fucking intoxicated, struggling to stop myself from licking him like an ice cream cone. “I can always test it real quick.” My fingers slide from his throat to cup his jaw, my eyes zeroing in on his luscious, tempting lips. He shudders and drops his arm from my neck to shove it against my chest. Only, it’s trembling. Like the rest of him. And he’s not pushing. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Don’t you dare.” “Or what, baby?”

“Nikolai, if you don’t stop, so help me God, I will…” “What? You’re leaving me in suspense again, baby.” He swallows again, and this time, I can’t help it. I’m a fucking masochist who’s hung up on this dick. Figuratively, of course.

I dart my tongue out and lick along his jaw, all shaven and clean like the rest of him. He tastes of goddamn citrus and I want to drown in it even if it stings. I was never good with self-preservation anyway. He shivers again, like a leaf, his hand remaining on my pec, but now, he’s digging his fingers in my skin and I’m not sure if he realizes he’s doi...

He tastes like my own downfall and I’m ready to drown in it.

His jaw tics and his muscles tighten. And just like that, he slips back to the uptight asshole with serious issues. “I told you not to touch me, you disgusting prick.” Aaaand he fucking ruined it.

My gaze falls back on my phone and my heart thuds when a new text pops in. But it sinks down so hard afterward when I see Clara’s name. Fuck.