God of Fury (Legacy of Gods, #5)

by Rina Kent

“Baby, please⁠—” “Nuh-uh,” Nikolai cuts her off this time as he yanks her from my grip and pushes her toward the door. “He’s not your fucking baby.”

“Want to blame me again?” I murmur against his skin. A puff of air leaves his mouth and he nods once. “Then blame me all you want, baby.” I slam my lips to his, taking what’s mine. Because he is fucking mine. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know it yet and would probably deny it till kingdom come. It doesn’t matter that he’s a fucking asshole. He’s my asshole.

“Get out of my life, Nikolai.” “The answer is no.” “I want you gone.” “It’s still no.” “Do you have no pride?” “What the fuck is that? Is it edible?”

“Why the hell would you lick me? Are you a dog?” “Woof.” He grins and I can’t even muster the emotions to be mad at him. Bloody wanker is mental.

“Is there a way I can get rid of you?” I ask, my shoulders hunching. “If I die, maybe. Scratch that, I’ll haunt the fuck out of you until you join me, my Prince Charming. Then we can have a fuck fest in ghost land.” “You need help.” “Then help me, baby.”

“You still jealous about that?” “I’m not jealous.” “Whatever floats your boat, my lotus flower.” “Nikolai.” “Yes, baby?” “Don’t call me any of those nicknames in front of anyone else. Don’t act like you know me in public.” “But why? I want to hang out with you.” “I don’t. We’re not friends and this is only physical.” “We’ll see about that.” “What?” “What?” he repeats, pretending to be oblivious. “I want to see you all day.”

“Since we’re done with that stupidity. It’s time for my condition.” He wraps his fingers around my neck. “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.”

No one has ever said that to me. No one has ever been so obsessed with me that they act like they’d move heaven and earth to protect me. I shouldn’t even want protection or this toxic connection. But the reality I’ve been trying to ignore crashes into me. I want him. I fucking crave him. So much it hurts.

So why the fuck do I feel any other way about Bran? Maybe it’s the fact that you call him that and a few other nicknames, not to mention the fact that you got this fucking place just so he’d feel safe away from everyone else? Yeah, so I did that. He’s always paranoid about people and their meaningless fucking opinions, so I thought he’d feel more comfortable in a place that’s only for us.

Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. Should I come to the morning run tomorrow or stop altogether? Why are you asking me about what you should do? Answer me. Do you want me there? Yes or no. Yes. My lips pull in what must look like the most stupid grin ever. I knew my efforts would come to fruition. Now, I need to work harder to make myself indispensable in his life. My mind might have quieted down today, but that dark thought about never giving him a way out stays the same.

Turns out, everyone was worried about the way I disappeared last night. I kid you not, Jeremy put out feelers with the police and shit because he took what I said about killing innocent girls seriously. He can be dramatic. Okay, so maybe when I was in that mood, I could’ve accidentally hurt someone if Bran did actually use them as a crutch. Don’t blame me. It’s not my fault I only think in black and white. Kill and Gareth were checking all the places I would usually go to—clubs, another fighting ring. The Serpents. No shit—they actually knocked on the Serpents’ door and were like, “Hi, I know we hate each other, but have you seen this massive idiot motherfucker who’s covered in tattoos?” I didn’t make that up. Gaz relayed it back word for word.

God-fucking-damn-it. He’s hot.

He lifts his fist and punches me in the face. Oh fuck. He’s really losing it, my Prince Charming. More. Give me more. I grin up at him. “I take that as a no?” “I’m going to fucking kill you.” “Promises, promises.” “Nikolai!” “Yes, baby?” “Don’t baby me. In fact, we’re done.” He releases me with a shove. “Go to your Simon.” “No, fuck no.”

“Did I mention that you’re so adorable when you’re jealous?” “Shut your fucking mouth, Nikolai.” “As you wish, baby.”

“I fucking hate you.” “Mmm. Talk dirty to me.”

“You’ll kiss me?” he asks cautiously, hopefully, even. “I’ll always kiss you, baby.”

He doesn’t show them the version he shows me. Always smiling, grinning, and being an infuriating ray of sunshine, as if my mere presence makes him happy. That part boggles my mind. Why would he be happy with me when I can’t stand myself most of the time?

You know what? Fuck that. If you don’t feel the need to come over every night, I also don’t need to see you every morning. In fact, don’t show me your fucking face today. As if I want to see your fucking face. Fucking great. Wonderful. Awesome. Fantastic.

Nikolai If I say I’m not okay, will you come to the penthouse? Me If you want me to, yeah. Then I’m not okay. On my way.

I must fall asleep, because when I open my eyes, my head is lying on a muscled thigh and long fingers are stroking my hair. My heart thumps loud in my chest as I look up at Nikolai’s masculine face, his eyes focused on the telly.

“Are you okay?” He slides his other hand from my chest to wrap it around my neck. “I am now.” “You lied about being hurt?” I ask with a ball lodged in my throat. “I never said I was. I just mentioned that I was not okay.” “You clearly are.” “No, I’m not. I’m lonely without you, baby.” I suppress a smile. “I thought you said you didn’t want to see, and I quote, ‘my fucking face.’” “I lied. I always want to see your face.” “I lied, too,” I whisper,

“Don’t worry, lotus flower, I won’t be violent with you.

“The more mindless, the better. I’m a simple man. I see good violence, I rate it five out of five.”

“You need help.” He licks his lips, eyes twinkling. “Then help me, baby.”

I’m struggling as it is and barely stopping myself from shouting that “I’m off to fuck my lotus flower” every night and “I’m gonna give my lotus flower a good morning kiss” every day. It should be blasphemous that I’m expected to keep any sort of secret. I’m a muscles guy who prefers speaking with his fists. Everything else needs to fuck right the fuck off. I don’t like complicated. I don’t do complicated. Anyone who entrusts me with their secrets is a fool. Bran is a fucking fool. But he believes in my discretion, so I can’t just advertise the whole unorthodox relationship.

“Watch it, Niko,” Kill threatens in mock calm. “You’re digging your own grave.” “Let me search for the fucks I have to give.” I pretend to check my pockets and then produce two middle fingers. “Oh, here you go.”

“What’s going on here?” Lan snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Hey, you. Eyes off my brother before I fucking blind you.”

I just don’t have the energy to deal with anyone or anything at the moment. But more alone time only pushes me toward bad habits.

Why did you come into my life if you were going to leave? Why did you make me addicted to you if you didn’t plan to stay?

If I say I’m sorry will you come back?

I’m messed up, Nikolai. Extremely so. You should be glad to have dodged a bullet. I hate myself. Why don’t you hate me, too?

I told you we’re fucking done, so stay the fuck away from me.” “But I don’t want to,” I threw his words back at him, too drunk to care about how desperate I sounded. “What the fuck did you just say?” “I don’t want to. You obviously don’t want to, either, or you wouldn’t be talking to me. You’re that obsessed with me, huh?” “I’m so over your bullshit.” “Liar. You can’t stay away from me, Niko.” I used another one of his sentences. “You know you want me. No matter what I do, you come crawling back to me.”

“Are you insane?” Nikolai rolls a shoulder. “Probably.”

Do you want it to be over? He stares at the phone, lips parting, and the incessant pulling at his hair comes to an abrupt halt. Bran What is that supposed to mean? You’re the one who told me we’re done. Me But you never told me what you want. Don’t fuck with me, Nikolai. You’re the one who fucked with me first. You texted me and were talking big on the phone and even came to save me. Maybe you’re the one who can’t stay away from me. You’re right. I can’t. I tried and it’s not working. My jaw hits the floor as I read and reread his text to make sure this isn’t another one of my delusional episodes. Fuck. I can’t believe he admitted that out loud. Through text. But it still counts. Me Does that mean you’re miserable? Bran Are you enjoying this? Maybe. Gotta up my asshole game so I can match your energy. Rub it in, would you? Oh, I will. You can count on it. Are you okay? Glyn said you were, but I want to hear it from you. Meet me in the penthouse and I’ll tell you. When? Now. I expect him to send me an excuse so we can meet later after he’s done playing the golden boy and being with his friends. But then my phone lights up. Bran I’ll be there in twenty. Me Come out now. ? Look across the street. His head whips up and then he looks at me with that adorable stupefied expression. I wave at him and he searches his surroundings before he texts me. Bran What are you doing here? Me Come out. I have a helmet and I’m fully dressed. No one will know it’s me. Go first. I’ll follow in m...

“What on earth are you doing here? Are you a stalker?” he snaps. “Maybe.” “You could’ve told me to come over.” “And you would’ve?” “I am now, aren’t I?”

“If that were true, you would’ve visited me at the hospital.” “I did—” He cuts himself off and looks away. “Doesn’t matter.” “It does matter. Look at me.” He slowly does, and an uncharacteristic sheen of pain covers his face. “You visited? How come I never saw you?” “You were sleeping.” He rubs the back of his head. “I managed to sneak past Jeremy and Gareth when they were speaking to the doctor. But I had to leave soon after since Lan came looking for me and was about to start more drama.”

“If you don’t tell me, I’m walking out right now. Who was it? Who took my fucking place?” “No one.” His eyes widen and his grip loosens around my hair, even as he keeps me in place. “Really?” “Really.” “No one came here?” “No.” “Why?” Because this is our place and no one else is allowed in it. But instead of saying that, I lift a shoulder. “What about you? Did you fuck anyone else? I’m going to need names and addresses.” “You’re mental.” He smiles a little before he shakes his head. “There was no one. I don’t even like sex.” “You obviously do.” “Only with you,” he whispers, his fingers stroking my pulse point beside the bandage. Only with you. Pride swells inside me and I want to probe about that, but that’s not for now, so I ask the most important question. “Does that mean you’ll stay?” His answer comes in the most beautiful form. My lotus flower sighs with resignation as he crashes his lips to mine.

“That’s it. Good boy.” “I’m not a boy. I’m older than you.” “Age is a number, and you’re definitely my good boy, baby.”

It’s okay. If it’s him, it’s okay.

“You’re mine, not the other way around.”

“Jesus. You have more sex than Zeus.” “Who’s that? A porn star?” “Please tell me you’re kidding.” He squints. “Pretty sure I’ve heard about him before. Is he an actor?” “He’s a Greek god.” “And he was a porn star?” “No. He just…let’s say he shagged a lot. Like you.” “Don’t be jealous, baby.” “I am not.” “Well, I am.” “Of who?” “Fucking Clara and everyone who saw you naked.” “You need help.” I suppress a smile. “You’re the one who’s had more sex than me.” “Yeah, but I’ve never had a relationship and I don’t feel fucking murderous about them like I do with you.” My lips part and I clear my throat. “My relationships were a façade. I never…cared about them.” “And you care about me?” “Shut up.” I wiggle free of his hold. “I’m going to sleep.” “Wait for me!” A huge body slams into mine, crashing me into the bed. I groan as I try to push him off me, but it’s impossible.

“You’re not going anywhere anymore.” He kisses my Adam’s apple. “Night, baby.” A lump constricts my breathing and I can’t swallow past it as I stare sideways to find his face buried in my neck, his hair falling on the pillow. His breathing soon evens out and I smile to myself. Didn’t he say he doesn’t sleep in a bed? I stroke his arm and kiss the top of his head. “Night, Niko.”

“Hey, Nikolai.” “Yeah?” “If you could be anywhere in the world, where would you go?” “Inside you, baby.”

“You said you always top. Did you ever consider bottoming?” “Why?” He raises a brow. “You want to fuck me?” I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks and I gulp the tea trapped in my mouth. “That’s not what I meant. I was just asking.” “I don’t like it, but I’d let you if you wanted to try it out.” “But you just said you don’t like it.” “I’d rather let you fuck me than you running off to experiment with someone else.”

“He’s my professor. Kayden Lockwood.” Gareth stands beside me, his expression closed off as he stares at the man. He narrows his eyes on me before he looks my cousin up and down. “We are not done, Carson. I expect you in my office tomorrow morning.”

“By the way, I googled the meaning of Brandon, and it literally means prince or king. Don’t I get brownie points for calling you Prince Charming?” “More like stalkerish tendencies points. Who googles the meaning of other people’s names?” “I do because it’s you. I’m curious about everything that concerns you.”

“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.” “What does that mean?” “You’re so cute,” I lie through my teeth.

“Tell me something you noticed about me no one else knows.” “What type of request is that?” “Just do it.” He lifts a hand and traces a line from my forehead over my nose. “Not sure if no one else knows this, but you have a perfectly symmetrical face. Most people have an eye or ear that’s slightly bigger that the other. They have a good side because it’s proportionally better than the opposite one, but you look perfect from any side, because everything is well-balanced. Even your upper and lower lip are the same size. Actually, your entire body is perfectly symmetrical.” He strokes his fingers over my lips and they willingly part. God damn. He says a few words that imply he’s been watching me and I feel like I’m being torn apart. “You’re an artist’s dream muse.” “Then make me yours.” He laughs. “Maybe you already are.” “Fuck yeah. That’s a good thing, right?” “Maybe.”

“Tell me something you noticed about me no one else knows.” “Hmm. You have eleven moles on your body.” “Okay…” “I’m not done. You have two hundred seventeen lashes on your right eye and two hundred twelve lashes on your left one.” His lips part. “You…counted them?” “Almost every night since you stayed over. That’s last night’s count. Might change today. You tend to lose some on your left eye.” “But why would you count my lashes?” “I love them. They’re dark and long and so fucking pretty when you’re sleeping. Besides, no one but me can count them, so that’s a huge bonus.” He chuckles softly, the sound echoing around us like a lullaby. “You’re so weird.” “I’ve always been.” “That you have.” “The only difference is that you’re not running away anymore.” “No, I’m not.” He leans completely against my chest and closes his eyes. “Give me five and then I’m taking you to bed. From now on, you’re not allowed to sleep on the floor anymore.”

“You cut yourself?” My words are low, but they’re so loud in the silence. “Why?” “Because I’m fucked up.” His voice sounds like death’s lullaby, anguished and shattered. “Because I look at myself in the mirror and get the urge to shatter it to pieces. Because I’ve been haunted by the bitter taste of nausea and self-loathing for so long, I don’t know how to live without them. I was doing fine, pretending and putting on a façade, so why the fuck did you ruin that? Why did you come into my life and destroy every wall I built and ruin every lie I told myself? Why do you touch me like I’m beautiful? Why don’t you hate me when I can’t stand my-fucking-self?” “I can’t hate you, baby. It’s impossible.” I lift his wrist up and brush my lips at the edge of the cut. A whimper falls from his mouth and he throws himself at me. I stagger but he keeps me in place by wrapping his arms around me. His fingers dig into my skin and it hurts as he squeezes me against him. His trembling body fuses to mine and he breathes harshly into my neck. “Baby? You okay?” “Please…” His voice is muffled. “Please let me hold you like this. It doesn’t hurt when you touch me.” I grab onto him, pressing him further into me, harder, closer, until I’m not sure where I end and he begins. Seems that Bran runs way deeper than I thought, but as he hangs on to me as if I’m his only anchor, I know that I’ll never let him go. Not even if I burn with him. For him. In him. I’d willingly catch fire if he so much as asked m...