God of Fury (Legacy of Gods, #5)

by Rina Kent

“I’m just making sure I heard you correctly. Did you just say you’ve been with Nikolai for a while? Like the way you were with Clara?” “Don’t compare him to Clara. I couldn’t care less about her.”

“Oh my God,” Glyn breathes out and cups her mouth, but that does nothing to hide her smile. “That day in the coffee shop when Kill said Nikolai is exclusive with someone, could that, by any chance, be you?” “Yeah.” “Are you, like, coming out to us, right now? What am I supposed to do? Can I hug you?” “I’d rather not,” I say, feeling a bit lighter that she’s smiling. That’s good, right? Cecily takes my hand in hers. “I’m so happy for you, Bran. I feel like a proud mama seeing you find someone you like.”

“I’ve got to say, it’s refreshing to see you worried about me.” He ruffles my hair. “Stop messing around, Lan. You screwed up your wrist and all you can think about is me being worried about you?” “It’s a very important element.” “Seriously?” “Uh-huh. It means you care.” “I always care. You’re the one who doesn’t.” “Fuck that. If you weren’t here, I would’ve introduced that bunch of Heathens to my special brand of fucked up.” “And get yourself killed?” “Will you cry at my funeral?” “Lan! Don’t joke about nonsense like that.” “But I want to know. Will you?” I sigh as I help him into the passenger seat. “You’re my twin brother.” “And?” He looks at me expectantly, like a fucking hyena who’s waiting to pounce on its prey. Or maybe it’s just expectation and I’m reading too much into it. “And that means I wouldn’t be the same without you. Not that you share the sentiment.” I start to close the door, but he shoves his foot against it, keeping it open. “You know, that’s your problem, Bran. You always assume things about me instead of fucking talking to me. It’s a nasty habit that needs to go.” He holds my gaze with his identical one. “I wouldn’t be the same without you, either, twat. You’re part of me.” “Ownership again? Classic.” “It’s not fucking ownership. If I owned you, I wouldn’t give two flying fucks about you because I’d already have you in my grasp.” He clutches my hand and I wince at how hard it is. “I want you to listen to me and listen carefully. You’re part of me. Tha...

I walk forward and I drive my fist into his face. He reels back and clutches his cheek as his darkened eyes snap to mine. Jeremy is stunned for a second. I am, too, as I resist the urge to shake my hand. That fucking hurts. It’s worth it, though. “Congratulations, Nikolai. You get your fucking wish.” I point a finger at his chest. “We’re over.” Jeremy stares between us with a calculative expression, as if he’s linking patterns, but I honestly couldn’t care less anymore. I turn to leave, but Nikolai grabs me by the arm and his hard chest presses to my back as he growls in my ear, “In your fucking dreams, baby.”

“Society can go fuck itself,” Dad says. “What’s important is you. As long as you’re comfortable in your own skin, everyone else can fuck off. If they say anything, I’ll drag them through enough courts to make them wish they’d never crossed your path.”

Then I tilt my head in the direction of my father, who’s been awfully quiet. His face is unreadable as he seems to be fighting his demons. “Dad? Are you…okay with it?” “Your sexuality? Naturally. This guy, however, I’m not sure yet. What’s his name? Age? Parents’ names?” “Uh…so…remember Killian?” His lips part. “Please don’t tell me you’re with your sister’s boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend?” “What? No. Of course not, Dad.” “Ew, Levi.” Mum smacks his hand. “Fine, okay.” He releases a breath. “It can’t be worse than that.” “He’s his cousin.” “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Dad’s face literally pales and I kind of feel bad for him. He’s been dealing with Lan his whole life, then he had Kill, who’s also a diagnosed psychopath, and I don’t think he’s even processed that. “Please tell me he’s the levelheaded cousin who keeps him in check.” “To be honest, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Killian is definitely the one who keeps Nikolai in check.” “Fuck my life.” He exhales. “Astrid, Princess. I think I’m having a heart attack.” “Dad…are you okay?” I study him closely. “I’m actually not with him right now, so you don’t have to worry.” “Oh, screw that.” Mum shakes him again. “Your dad just needs to stop being a baby.”

“So did Lan beat him up?” Dad asks with a note of anticipation. “Levi!” Mum scolds again. “I approve of Lan protecting his siblings.”

“Well, didn’t Lan beat up Kill once?” Mum asks. “That’s my boy.” Dad nods in approval and Mum rolls her eyes.

“Don’t ever do that again.” He pants against my lips, his fingers pulling on my hair until it’s painful. “Don’t you fucking dare walk away from me or ghost me. I don’t give a fuck if you’re on a high or a murder spree. I couldn’t care less if you hurt me. You don’t come to me when you’re only okay, you come to me at all times. Am I fucking understood?” I lick his bottom lip then bite down. “You don’t hide from me, either. I want you raw. Am I fucking clear?” His hot breath whooshes out in harsh pants against my mouth. “What if you don’t like what you see?” “Not sure if you noticed it, but I like everything about you—your control-freak tendencies and nagging included.”

“Hi, good morning,” I say with my most welcoming smile that I only show my parents. “I’m Bran’s friend from school.” His mom smiles. “Are you, by any chance, Nikolai?” I steal a glance at Bran. Did he mention me? Jesus Christ. Am I supposed to be this happy that he said my name in front of his parents? And why is he not freaking out like whenever we’re in the same public place? If anything, his expression is peaceful. This is starting to creep me the fuck out. So imagine my fucking surprise when he threads his fingers through mine and smiles at his parents. “Yeah, Mum. This is Nikolai and he’s more than just a friend.”

He can’t possibly be worse than Killian. Anyone is better than Killian. It was an exaggeration on Bran’s part to emotionally prepare me. Again, no one can be worse than Killian. Those were the thoughts I had before I went to bed last night, and I woke up today in a proper fantastic mood. Until now. Or, more accurately, since I walked into the kitchen and saw the motherfucking gangster who’s built like a fucking wall, standing beside my son. I knew it was the little fucker Nikolai before Bran even introduced him. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out when Bran’s lips were all swollen and the bastard’s long hair was finger-raked. Dear fucking God, I know you’re out there somewhere and I beg you, take this arsehole and give my son a normal lover. Just once, I want fucking normal. First I get a psycho son. Okay, fine. Love that. Best challenge of my life and pretty sure I passed it. I didn’t need to have my daughter with a psycho boyfriend. And now, it’s the psycho’s psycho fucking cousin. What the fuck have I done to deserve that? Was I a mass murderer in a past life or something? “Levi!” My wife pulls on my shirt’s sleeve from her position on the table beside me. “You’re staring.” “Oh, I’m sorry. I was supposed to be fucking glaring,” I say loud enough for everyone to hear.

And it’s all because of the fucking wanker on my left, right beside my son. I narrow my eyes at the full sleeves of tattoos decorating both his arms. Motherfucking gangster. A delinquent bastard who’s in no way fit to be with my well-mannered, completely selfless son.

There he goes defending the little fucker. I’m losing my children one by one to a bunch of wankers.

“He prefers a sweet breakfast, Mum.” Bran slides the jam sandwich that I thought he was making for himself in front of Nikolai and even gives him a whole plate of macarons. “He doesn’t look the part,” she says. “Don’t be fooled by the muscles. He has the most tragic sweet tooth I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness.” “Guilty as charged,” Nikolai says after he finishes the toast in two bites like a barbarian. “Honestly, I work out so I can consume as many pastries as possible.” “One day, you’ll go into a sugar coma,” Bran says with a sigh, as if he’s mentioned this countless times before. “Worth it.”

“I like that he’s responsible, punctual, takes all of his engagements seriously, steps up for justice, and helps in every way possible. I like his cooking, his rare smiles, and how dedicated he is to running and staying healthy. I like making him laugh and, eh, watching him sleep. I like how he’s fully concentrated when he’s in the art studio, but most of all, I like how he let me into his life and made a place for me there. I even like the boring Agatha Christie movie adaptations now, not because they’re any good, but because he’s truly obsessed with that shi—I mean, stuff. I even like his nagging and control-freak tendencies most of the time, so yeah, there’s nothing I don’t like…actually, there’s something. He has this habit of putting everyone else’s comfort before his own, or he pretends to be fine when he’s obviously not. I don’t only dislike that. I hate it.”

He’s in love with him. It’s not a crush, mere admiration, or a fling. My son is fully, truly, and irrevocably in love with the gangster. God rest my soul in fucking pieces.

“Do you hate him that much, Dad?” “Oh my, what gave you that impression?” “You kind of made it obvious and, well, you’re still glaring at him.” I break my staring contest with Nikolai’s skull. I figured if I glared hard enough, it’d crack and we’d be rid of the nuisance.

The delinquent gangster motherfucker. I knew that bastard Killian was trouble. Not only did he shove his unwanted presence into our lives, but now, there’s his cousin. Though I admit Nikolai is a lot more well-mannered than that psycho.

“So what? Those don’t make his personality. Since when do you judge a book by its cover?” “Since it walks into my house and steals my son.”

“Baby, you need to stop saying things like that because I’m really never going to let you go now.” “Who says you have to?” “Does this mean…we can be in a relationship?” “I thought we already were?” “We were?” “It was a secret, but it wasn’t only physical, either, right?” “Abso-fucking-lutely. You really pissed me off when you said that earlier. I love spending time with you whether we’re fucking or not.” “Me, too.” “So we’re going public now? Actually, no question mark, we’re definitely going public. I need everyone to know you’re fucking mine.”

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.

“Don’t apologize.” His voice softens. “Can you tell me what you did to make you feel that way?” “One day. I just need to get my shit together to be able to talk about it. Can you wait?” “Absolutely, and, baby?” He kisses the top of my head and his next words nearly give me a heart attack. “Even if you hate yourself, I’ll love you for the both of us.”

“Besides, you let go around me, and I’m so fucking proud of that. I want you to know that you can give up control and trust that I’ll never use your vulnerabilities against you.”

He laughs, the sound like smooth honey. And I’m not the reason behind it. Am I thinking about pitching a little girl in the water so she’ll join the fucking ducks? Yes, yes, I am. She must feel my glare, because she looks up and glares back. This little shit isn’t scared of me while most people obviously are.

The kid has the audacity to tell Bran, “Wait for me. I’m going to come back for you when I grow up.” Her mom apologizes again as she laughs and whisks the girl off before I go ahead and dump her in the lake a la serial killer. “Stop glaring, Nikolai.” “The nerve of that little shit.” I snatch the flower she gave him and throw it down. “Are you seriously swearing at a kid?”

“Because I never wanted a prince. I prefer an unhinged motherfucker.” “Hey! That’s me!” I grin so wide, I can see my reflection in his bright eyes. “Don’t smile. You’ll grow on me.” “Awe. I thought I was already.”

My future father-in-law, however, likes to play hard to get. Now I know where his son got the trait from. But I think even his grumpy self will miss me. Bran had no chance with me and neither will he.

Powerless. Hopeless. Used.

I was terrified that she’d do it again. So I ran to Lan’s room. Ironic, really, since I was the one who demanded we have separate rooms two years prior. Lan never wanted that and he became so petty afterward. However, when I stood in his doorway, he immediately knew something was off. He jumped from his bed and asked me what was wrong. I whispered, “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.” Then he begged me for the first time in his life. I didn’t tell him the real reason. Instead, I poured my heart out about how I was struggling with art and school and attention. I also admitted out loud that I hated how I wasn’t as strong-minded as he was. That worked for a while, but I don’t think he ever believed me. Then the experimentation phase I went through bit me in the arse and some homophobes started mocking me and calling me slurs. Lan thought the breakdown was because of that, and I saw firsthand how he targeted them and turned their lives into a nightmare. To this day, not one of them is a functioning member of society. For a long time, Lan kept watching me, but I was already good at building façades and perfecting my image.

A man can’t be raped by a woman. That’s the stigma that stayed in my head even though the nausea from that time followed me for the rest of my life.

“Did you just call it a misunderstanding? You fucking assaulted me, Grace.”

Blood everywhere. In my mouth. On my clothes. On his hands. I see him through hazy red, my lids nearly closing. “Baby, please…please…” he begs in a broken voice, and I can see the tears in his beautiful eyes. The eyes that I turned empty. The eyes that I destroyed. “Please don’t go, baby, please…don’t leave me…please…stay with me…stay with me…you have to stay with me…”

Levi drove us to the hospital like a madman while I held Bran on my lap in the back seat, keeping pressure on his neck. The bleeding never stopped. Not even temporarily. The more time passed, the closer I was to losing him. I’ll never forget how his pulse diminished beneath my fingers, how I was begging and kissing his blue lips and asking, imploring, praying for a God I’ve never believed in to give him back to me. I’ll do anything if you give him back. If he asked for my life in return, I’d spill my guts on a platter. I don’t want a life without him. I can’t have a life without him.

Astrid fainted upon seeing that video. Levi looked like he was going to be sick, but he watched it to the very end, like me. Landon vibrated with rage. His face was red, his fist was clenching and unclenching, and his upper lip lifted in a snarl like it is right now.

As long as he comes back, I’ll murder his demons one by one until he’s ready to look in the mirror again. Until he forgives himself for something that was not his fault.

A hand lands on my shoulder and I whip around to find Landon staring at me with harsh eyes. “Whatever you’re doing, I want in.”

Dad stands in the doorway and nods at us. “Go do your thing. I’ll be here.” I nod sharply, thankful beyond words for having him as my father. Not many encourage their children's murderous ideas or their need for vengeance. My father, Kyle Hunter, the most elite sniper you’ll ever encounter, feeds my tendencies in the healthiest ways possible.

“I’m going to need you to say it out loud now, Grace.” Lan tears at the hairs on her scalp. “I’m your god and I want you to confess what you fucking did.” “Lan, please.” “Fucking say it,”

She screams so loud, Dad shows up at the doorway, but he doesn’t make a move. No, he just watches his son and his future son-in-law take the life of a woman and smiles.

I want to finally give fifteen-year-old me what he always wanted—justice—and hope that one day, he’ll forgive me. He’ll one day look at me in the mirror and smile. Even if only once.

I want to get better not only for myself, but also for the man I love.

“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.”

“What are you sorry for?” “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.” “I never hated you, Lan. I hated myself, yes, but never you.” I release a mock laugh. “You were the half I looked at whenever I needed hope. Seeing you being your unapologetic, confident anarchist self made me believe I’d eventually be okay. You gave me strength, even unknowingly, so you shouldn’t apologize. This isn’t on you, it’s on me. You couldn’t have known when I didn’t let you in. And I didn’t let anyone in.” “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?” “That’s about the worst thing you can do, Lan. I need you by my side. I always have. Pretending I didn’t is what shoved me into that dark hole in the first place.” I smile. “I never felt happier than when you asked me to teach you empathy. I was proud that you needed me for once.” “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 hate...

“Hey, Lan?” “I don’t like that tone. What?” “Since we’re sharing our feelings⁠—” “Lord, no. Please no. What is it now?” “I think you know already since, well, you went to the States and, uh, Nikolai was there… Point is, I love him and I want to be with him. If he’ll let me.” I blurt out the last part so fast, I’m not sure if he hears it, and if he does, whether or not he understands a word I’ve said. “Why the fuck wouldn’t he let you?” He lifts his nose up with an air of arrogance. “The peasant should be honored and worship at your feet for you even looking in his direction.” “You…you’re okay with it?” “I don’t like the idea of anyone taking you away, let alone that distasteful brute, but I guess I can try to tolerate him for your and Mia’s sake.” “Thanks.” My heart beats faster. “Despite his violent exterior, he’s really a teddy bear deep down, you know. A golden retriever through and through. He’s extremely affectionate and respectful and makes sure I’m comfortable and happy.” “What type of voodoo did he use on my control-freak brother? More importantly, why did it have to be him? You’re allergic to violence and I’m pretty sure he’s illiterate.” “Lan! I’ll have you know he has a 4.15 GPA. Don’t make fun of his intelligence again or I’ll be really cross with you.” “Jesus Christ. You’re defending him?” “Get used to it. I won’t allow you or anyone else to insult him.” “Wow. Okay. Bring down the protectiveness a notch. It’s revolting.” “No. Deal with it.” My good mood slowly...

“How could you?” He strides toward me, his voice vibrating with fear instead of anger. “How could you try to leave me? Don’t you know I can’t live without you anymore?”

“I’m sorry. I thought… I thought you’d find me weak and revolting. The idea of you seeing me differently haunts me, Nikolai. I don’t want to lose you.” “But you’re okay with me losing you? I’m a shell without you, Bran.” He drags my hand to him and slams it against his chest. “This thing only beats for you and because of you. I used to live an aimless life where adrenaline was my god, but you came along and tamed my demons. You balance me. You complete me. You’re fucking in me. So seeing you bleeding out on the floor was no different than watching myself die. No, it was worse. I’ve never felt so scared for my life, but you…you’re my everything. How could you do that to me? To us?”

“I’m so sorry. The last thing I want is to hurt you.” “Don’t apologize. Tell me you won’t do it again. Promise me.” “I promise, Niko. Never again. I’ll do everything in my capacity to get better. I’ll go to therapy and pick myself apart to be strong enough to deserve you. Just don’t leave me, please.” “Not even if you beg for it. I love you, lotus flower, and that means I’ll be by your side during all of your battles with your demons. I’ll kill them for you if you let me. I’ll listen to them if you want me to. But I’ll never leave you, so you’re stuck with me.”

“Does that mean you’re mine now?” “I think I always have been.” “Thank you for coming back to me, baby.” “Thank you for never giving up on me, Niko.”

“You really love being labeled as the one who tamed the wild Niko by my mom and sisters, don’t you?”

In that department, he reminds me a bit of my dad, who’s definitely Team Nikolai now. He never really hated him, but after he saved me during that black day, Dad gained an immense sense of respect for my man. At this point, only Killian is falling behind on the popularity vote in the King household.