God of Fury (Legacy of Gods, #5)

by Rina Kent

Not that I’m tempted to find out. That would be crazy. * * * Just kidding. I am crazy. A week later, I’m lurking by the entrance of the Elites’ mansion at five thirty in the fucking morning.

Sure enough, he retrieves his phone from his armband—of course the prick has an armband. Goes so well with his pristine clean image—and snaps a picture of the sky, then his fingers tap on the screen. I grab my phone—from my shorts pocket like a normal human being—and check the story.

Old Kolya, that is. The new one is clearly an idiot who will be written out of my will.

“Lose her, Bran. I mean it. If the bitch hurts you one more time, I’ll take things into my own hands and we both know how that will end.”

You can tell that Lan cares.

So I don’t mean to be a stalker or anything. Okay, kidding, I totally do, but I’m in REU’s stadium to watch some boring sport called lacrosse.

So, apparently, two big, tatted guys stand out in the midst of polka-dotted dresses, feathered hats, and tulle umbrellas. Even though I went through all the trouble to wear a damn T-shirt. The audacity of these motherfuckers.

“If anyone asks, you brought me here, not the other way around. Can’t look too fucking desperate.”

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.

“I thought you hated the touristy things and even kept apologizing to many people and whispering, ‘He’s American, sorry.’ I can’t believe they nodded in understanding and had the audacity to look like they were pitying you.” “Well, you talk too loud and keep making eye contact with strangers until they nearly shrivel and die.” “I thought they were stunned by my handsomeness.” “More like appalled by your unwanted attention. We don’t do that in London.”

“No. You know why?” “Because I wouldn’t allow it?” “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 apologize. Just…stop doing that. Give the middle finger instead. Works so much fucking better.”

Landon and Brandon's conversation after he wakes up had me in tears.