God of Fury (Legacy of Gods, #5)

by Rina Kent

I place both hands up and the bastard bumps right against them, his muscles flexing beneath my fingers.

The sound of his tut echoes in the air as he finally quits trying to glue his chest to mine.

I can’t help noticing how taut he is, like a wall.

Gay

“Ah, fuck. I want to defrost that layer of control you’re wrapped in and see what lurks inside the preppy boy.”

“What the hell is your problem?” “Me?” He points a thumb at himself. “You seem to be the one crowded with issues, boy.”

I don’t do violence. Ever.

You hit Niko quite a lot for someone who hates violence

“Get your ass over here if you want to see your brother breathe another day.”

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.

The assault on my senses is much more prominent this time as that stupid glint rushes to his previously muted eyes. “Well, hello there. Lovely of you to finally join the party.”

Nikolai drags me down and my arse meets a hard surface. His thighs.

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

I try again, needing to escape the wanker. But before I can move, he wraps his arm around my waist and spreads his palm over my stomach. “Someone has nice abs.”

“I’m straight and have no interest in your weird nonsense.”

Sure, Jan

The situation I’m in registers quickly and heat rushes to my head. I’m sitting on a random guy’s lap. Me. Brandon fucking King.

My jaw nearly hits the floor when none other than my baby sister rushes through the door, her cheeks red and her demeanor flustered. Glyn stares at me and I feel as if I’m being stripped naked, free falling from the sky without a safety net.

I release a puff of air, but it gets stuck in my throat when Nikolai strokes his hand on my stomach. It’s over my shirt, but it’s like he’s scratching at the surface of my skin, nearly peeling it off the muscles. A burn erupts at the pit of my belly and rushes to the rest of my limbs.

My head spins, mostly due to his breath near my ear, his hand on my stomach, and his rock-hard thighs underneath mine.

“You made up a story about Lan?” He lifts a shoulder. “How else would I have gotten you here? On my lap, I mean.”

want to punch his fucking stitch mask so bad. So, so bad. But I don’t, be...

“Jer!” Nikolai jumps to my side and wraps an arm around my shoulders as if we’re mates. “Meet eighty-nine. Pretty sure he’s the only one who made it here and, therefore, can be a member of the Heathens.”

Jeremy lifts his head and takes in the scene for the first time. He was so lost in his own head that he didn’t even notice us.

Cecy has my poor man in shambles

He cocks his brows at Nikolai, then narrows his eyes on where he’s grabbing me.

There’s no other explanation for why he’d think the twin brother of Lan, aka his worst enemy, should join his precious club’s ranks. Or why he’d possibly think I would.

He wuvs you

Kolya Jr. has been an adventurous whore since he got his first boner at the fresh age of five.

This never gets easier to read

He also said the stupid rule where I couldn’t be naked all the time. Fucking social restrictions and all that bullshit.

Kolya happens to be the Russian diminutive form of my name, but it’s rarely used, and only by my very Russian grandfather, who snarls at the reality that Niko won the nickname battle a hundred to one.

He’s resourceful, to put it mildly, and a flat-out whore if we’re being fucking blunt.

So imagine my goddamn bafflement when he woke up today and chose the silent treatment.

Once, a girl was like, “Choke me, Daddy,” and I nearly killed her. In my defense, she didn’t specify how hard I should choke her, so I went with the flow—the flow being maximum violence.

Kolya was most certainly feeling himself and had the night of his dickish life, especially after… A twitch rushes to my groin and I pause. He was feeling himself more than usual when… A reluctant, uptight preppy boy was gliding his firm ass all over him.

Kolya Jr. fell first

“The fuck are you? A masochist? He said he was straight. Told you to keep your nonsense away from him as if it were an insult.”

My dick doesn’t understand insults, since he has the moral compass of a used condom, and remains standing at attention like an eager kid in class.

Now that I think about it, when I was falling asleep, I wasn’t seeing the hot threesome, but the up and down of a gorgeous Adam’s apple as he flinched, jerked, and swallowed thickly.

Maybe if I get him the same flavor as the three from last night… He flops down so fast, I curse his goddamned maker. It’s me. I’m the maker.

I don’t fuck with straight guys. At all. Many of them have fragile egos and macho manly energy that pisses me off and propels me to sudden, impulsive violence.

Brandon King does not belong on any of my lists of interest. He’s too uptight and closed off, not to mention standoffish and arrogant. His entire existence should give me a serious case of erectile dysfunction.

Mhmmm

That guy could use a chill pill. Or a few. In fact, someone should shove the entire bottle down his throat and make him choke on it.

Fuck him and his back off and stop touching me. I’m straight. Like fuck he is. He nearly bounced on my cock and he sat there so prettily while I was nursing an erection...

Straight, my ass. Or his, to be more specific—pun totally intended.

I’m completely uninterested in his mythical straight battle. Fuck that right the fuck off, if you ask me.

A few nights ago, Landon and I fought at one of my favorite places on the island—the fight club. I was so pumped to pummel that English prick to the ground in front of his wannabe fans. But then Brandon showed up and stood there like the prince version of his brother.

I admit that I lost concentration because he looked so fucking agitated at the prospect of Landon being beaten to death, and I also admit Kolya appreciated the view. He’s hot. And it’s different on him than his show-off, in-your-face brother.

Brandon has a quieter presence and carries himself in a total...

Slick brown hair, groomed face, tall and slim frame, but muscled. Yup, don’t let those preppy clothes fool you. Asshole has abs. All six of them. I counted them yesterday since I had nothing else to do with my hands. I would’ve preferred to let my hand go down...

I almost lost that fight because Brandon got in the way. Side note, I don’t usually get distracted during fights because of this lame reason, I assure you. So, naturally, I had to mess with Bran the way he dared to mess with me.

Imagine my fucking surprise when he walked right in like a lost lamb. A straight lost lamb.

What I didn’t expect was his subtle aggressiveness and hints of submissiveness peeking from beneath the mask of rigorous control that he wears like a second skin.

But then he left before I could convince the others to add him to our club. Not that they would’ve agreed, and Jeremy looked fucking horrified when he found out his identity, but oh well. I just wanted to toy with him a little.

“Niko, please tell me you weren’t talking to invisible people just now.” “Of course not. I was having a very frustrating conversation with my dick.”

My older cousin, twenty-one, is the prince of our little group of mayhem. Slick blond hair, sharp jaw, green eyes like some elf, and fucking dimples. The problem with him is that he’s wiser than should be allowed. It makes him a little boring, just saying.

I love him so much