God of Fury (Legacy of Gods, #5)

by Rina Kent

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.

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.

DELULU KING

There’s something about ruining a good boy that does shit to me.

He’s usually expressionless, unless he’s faking this creepy smile that looks like a psycho’s, so whenever I catch him off guard, he has this deer caught in the headlights expression.

He’s not exactly cooperative and lets my questions wash off him as if he never heard them until he runs back to his big castle. But then again, I’m nothing short of persistent and fucking love a challenge.

Well-groomed, posh men like Bran are not my type. At all.

Mhm

He marches with sure, slightly forced movements down the road. His gaze flits sideways, probably searching for me, but I’m well hidden behind the trees.

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.

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 pats her back, but there’s no enthusiasm behind his movement. His expression doesn’t change, not even a little. Like a robot. I got a better reaction from him by plucking out his AirPods, blondie.

How dare she interrupt our morning ritual that’s been going on for three days?

:')

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?

I’m about to step into the scene and ask her just that—or maybe just scare her away. That shit comes naturally to me. Leaves crunch beneath my shoes and Brandon’s head tilts in my direction, but he doesn’t look at me.

Hot

His muscles ripple and roll, his back rigid, his biceps bulging, then his long fingers tighten in her hair. Fighting. That’s what he’s doing. He’s not enjoying the act. He’s fighting.

What are you fighting, lotus flower?

Brandon whirls her around, so I’m greeted by her back as he deepens the kiss. I don’t even look at her meaningless presence, my gaze zeroing in on his face that barely contorts. Barely moves. Barely feels—if at all.

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. A frown appears between his brows as if he can hear my thoughts while I remain there watching, not the show, but his face.

My, my. Is that…a fucking erection? 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.

“I just missed you.” Bullshit. I don’t even think he believes what he’s saying.

I have to physically force myself to turn away, because if I don’t, I might go over there and punch Clara. Or accidentally kill her. And we don’t want a dead bimbo on our hands.

Prince Charming better watch his fucking back.

So I realized that I need to chill the fuck out. Brandon who?

Right

Mom brought me up to respect women. Cheer them on, not bring them down.

Rai W

So I might have been messaging Brandon on IG. You know, because I’m a goddamn pest like that.

It’s me ;) Nikolai, in case the handle didn’t give me away.

*GIF of a bored kid tapping the table*

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*

Yup. All good. My texts are still sitting prettily in here. Will check again later to make sure.

Fuck this shit. Seriously. I’m losing my few remaining brain cells because of this asshole.

“I thought you might want to know that your cousin Killian was attacked. He’s upstairs now.” I narrow my eyes. “Upstairs, as in alive, or upstairs, as in, in his casket?”

Kill’s death would probably be inconvenient.

LMAO

Well, well, well. Guess who’s here? 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.

For a second, his eyes widen, as if he didn’t want to see me in my own fucking place. Happy to crush your hopes, lotus flower.

Khaki. Jesus. He’s so prim and proper.

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

His expression doesn’t change, imitating a perfect robot, 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.

But lotus flower is this golden boy who hides more than he shows and I’m thirsty for any crumb I can get. Not that he makes it easy.

Thank you for your services, cousin. If it weren’t for him, Glyn’s brother wouldn’t be here. Maybe Kill should get hurt more in the future, work on strengthening his immune system and shit.

Then he turns around and chooses to brush past Gareth instead of me on his way to the door. Someone is going to a lot of trouble to pretend I’m not here.

“I’m here for my sister and her boyfriend.” “Tomayto, tomahto. Wanna have that tour anyway?” “No.” “How about dinner?” “No.” “A drink?” “No.” “Do you have another word in your monosyllabic asshole vocabulary tonight?” “No,” he says, almost on autopilot, and I jump in front of him.

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.

“Talk dirty to me, baby.”

First baby :')

“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.

“Mmm. I love the sound of my name on your lips. Say it again, baby.”

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.

I can see him slowly pulling himself together and eclipsing behind that giant wall. Hiding. Retreating. Nah, hell no. Fuck that.