God of Fury (Legacy of Gods, #5)

by Rina Kent

I’ve just never been good with choices. Don’t appreciate them. Don’t care for them. Would rather not be presented with one.

I’ve never gotten that feeling from someone younger than me, and Nikolai is way younger. Nineteen, I think. A kid right out of secondary school—high school for Americans.

“Why aren’t you running?” My senses saturate in a rush of overwhelming external stimuli and my brain is unable to keep up with the overload.

“Bossy. I like it. But you know what I like more? Your posh little accent. Question. Does it sound the same when you say crude things?”

“Anyone ever tell you how fucking hot you feel when struggling for control? I could swallow you alive and leave no crumbs.”

Nikolai grabs me by the wrist and hauls me over so fast, I land on him, my chest crashing against his and our masks bumping.

“Stay fucking still unless you’re in the mood to take care of the boner you’re giving me.”

“Such a responsible brother. First, you came here because I made up a story about Landon, and now, you’re worried about your sister. We have something in common. I like it.”

“Oh cool, you remember! Nice to officially meet you, Brandon. Or, hold on! I actually found you a perfect nickname. Lotus flower. You know, because you managed to bloom so beautifully while surrounded by the muddy swamp that is Landon. Isn’t that so fucking poetic?”

“Do you like it? Your new name? Do you?” “Let go,” I mutter from between clenched teeth. “But why?” He appears genuinely puzzled. “You’re the one who offered to shake hands. I forgive you for pretending not to remember my unforgettable presence.”

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

He’s clinically diagnosed with narcissistic and antisocial personality disorder.

“If that’s a fluke, do it all the time, Bran. Seriously, this is your best work in a long time.” He squeezes my shoulder. “I told you everything would get better if you stopped shackling yourself.”

If Brandon is not gay, I’ll chuck myself down a fucking cliff.

Whenever he starts getting agitated, I get closer and call him lotus flower, Prince Charming, my dude, and his personal favorite, baby.

He’s all smooth skin and marble-like in his beauty, my lotus flower.

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” he mutters, his throat working beneath my fingers. “Your nightmare.” “I hate you.” “I don’t.” “You’re fucking crazy.” “About you,” I whisper against his lips and claim them with a guttural moan.

This was supposed to be a little game, but I don’t think I’m playing anymore. The worst part is that I feel like I’m already losing.

I slam my lips to his, taking what’s mine. Because he is fucking mine.

“Fuck you…Nikolai… Why the fuck did you come into my life… Fuck…” “I’m in your life because you’re fucking up mine, baby.”

“Don’t run away from me again. If you do, I’ll flip the world upside down to find you. You’re mine now, baby.”

“Want us to be exclusive?” I ask against his mouth.

I’m just me. His lotus flower. His Prince Charming. His baby.

“No, I’m not. I’m lonely without you, baby.”

Because this is our place and no one else is allowed in it.

His noises of desire are mine. His body is mine. He’s all mine.

“You’re on your knees.” “For you.” “For me.

He consumes me, but he also grounds me. I’ve never felt as mentally strong as when I’m with him.

One day, and I mean very, very soon, Bran won’t be content with only kissing me behind closed doors. He’ll be proud about being with me just like I’m over the moon about being with him.

“Tell me something in Russian.” I cup his chin and stare deep into those eyes that have become my undoing as I say the words Grandpa said Russians take seriously and literally. “Ya nee ma goo bees tee byah zhit.”

“I’m not done. You have two hundred seventeen lashes on your right eye and two hundred twelve lashes on your left one.”

The fact that he refuses to let me in even though I’m a damn open book is messing with my fucking head. I really, really hate fucking complicated.

“I don’t think I’m bi. I’m just gay.” The words flow from my mouth easier than I thought. “Asexual, too. Or I was. I think the right term is demisexual. I can only feel sexual desire toward someone I like.”

“I want you to listen to me and listen carefully. You’re part of me. That means I’m critical of you like I’m critical of myself. I see your safety as my own, sometimes even more so because you tend to think of others’ comfort more than your own. I hated it when you closed yourself behind a fortress and kept me out. I need you to understand that.”

“You didn’t mean to.” “I still don’t like it. I hate the very idea of hurting you, even unintentionally. I was haunted for weeks by the sight of the blood that gushed out of your nose. I’m so sorry. I’ll never let myself do that again. That night in front of the Elites’ mansion was enough proof that I had no control and was capable of hurting you. Also, I could never pretend you don’t exist, motherfucker. You’re everywhere like goddamn air.”

“I’m afraid not, sir,” he answers with a straight face. “It was my destiny to meet your son and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“The right question would be what I don’t like about him. Which is maybe three things…actually, I take that back. I like those things sometimes as well, so they don’t count.”

My hands freeze as I study the artistic patterns of the lotus flower and make out the elegant font beneath it that reads Property of B. King. He had it inked on the spot that he said was for something special. “Fuck…” I breathe, pressure forming behind my eyes as I look up at him. “When…did you get this?” “After that night when I came to see you outside the mansion.”

“Because this means I love the fucking shit out of you, baby. I can’t live without you and you’re not allowed to leave me.”

“Tell me you’re mine,” I order and it’s such a low blow when he’s trapped in the cloud of lust, but I want to hear it. “I’ve been yours since I met you, baby.”

“I love how you ride my cock, baby, but do you know what I love more?” He flashes me the most gorgeous smile. “You.”

“Even if you hate yourself, I’ll love you for the both of us.”

“Vaughn?” “The Pakhan’s son. You might have seen him at the initiation. He wore the white mask.” “Oh, right. But I’ve never seen him around.”

“Nothing. Can you hug me?” The moment his arms wrapped around me, I broke down. I cried in his chest for so long that I think I passed out. My brother held me through it all, and even though he doesn’t know how to soothe people, he was patting my back the entire time. He carried me to his bed and let me sleep in his arms. He whispered, “Tell me who did this to you so I can end them.”

“That’s my twin brother. My other half. You don’t get it, Dad. He…he’s my. Other. Half. And I couldn’t be there to stop him from trying to take his own fucking life. I couldn’t be there when it got to be too much. He pushed me away and I thought he hated me. All this time, I failed to realize he hates himself.”

“I’d kill for you, I’d shoot myself if that makes you breathe better without me shadowing you, but I’d never…ever hurt you, Bran.”

“For not pursuing you that night. For thinking it was because of the rumors and letting it go at that. I’m sorry for allowing you to hate me without doing anything about it.”

“What can I do?” he asks with a wretched expression. “What can I do to stop you from doing that again? I don’t understand emotions, but you do, Bran. You do spectacularly well, and I’m asking, no, I’m begging you to tell me what I can do to make it better. Should I fuck off out of your life? Cut contact? Not visit Mum and Dad while you’re there? Will my disappearance stop you from having that nonsensical inferiority complex?”

“I always needed you, idiot. I used that as an excuse to spend time with you because you’d made it your mission to avoid me for the past eight years. I fucking hated that. You were supposed to be the one who understood me best, but you turned your back on me.”

“I love you, little bro,” he whispers. “I need you to know that. I need you to know you’re the first person I loved unconditionally and always will. I might annoy you, might act like a dick to get your attention, but that’s only because the thought of losing you scares the living fuck out of me.” “Love you, too, Lan.” I exhale against his neck, my chest nearly bursting with emotions.