God of War (Legacy of Gods, #6)

by Rina Kent

The foul mixture of liquor, the latest drug on the market, and a sense of euphoria flows through me as I sway to the loud music.

Eli King has been my damnation ever since I figured out what that word meant. My nemesis. The only man who’s immune to my charms. If anything, he disregards them with cold indifference. Like right now. His eyes exude a bottomless darkness, and their stormy gray color never rages or revolts. Never deviates from the coldness I faced the day he shattered my heart to pieces and stomped all over it. “Turn around and remove your distasteful presence from my sight, and I’ll pretend I didn’t hear your embarrassing confessions.”

My Remi is different. He’s lovable, a gentleman, and every woman’s dream man. He just needs a little push to see the love of his life. Aka me.” I smile despite myself. “You’re not going to give up, are you?” “Only after my ring is on his finger.” “Jesus. You’re thinking of marriage at eighteen?” “I’ve loved him since I was eleven. That’s seven years too late, if you ask me.”

“The real question is.” His smooth, deep voice touches my warm skin like a whip. “What have you done to owe me the displeasure, Ava?”

People say eyes are the windows to the soul, but it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking, no matter how long you stare at them. They run deep—so deep that I was pulled into their midst once upon a time. I fought and floundered and yearned to be the only one who understood them.

“Is this the part where I get on my knees and beg?” “I’m afraid that won’t cut it.” “How about if I send flowers and a box of chocolates?” “Unoriginal. Try harder.” “If I cry into my pillow?” “Only if I get to witness it personally.” “So I have a shot. Fantastic.”

“You’re not my keeper.” “Let’s go with that if it makes you sleep better at night.”

“Breathe, Ava. Fuck, come on, beautiful. Breathe.” I actually stop panicking for a second because what…? What’s going on? He called me ‘beautiful’ and he’s touching me. Matter of fact, he’s been touching me since I woke up. Eli never touches me. The longer I stare at his eyes, the more my breathing slows. They’re different. But how…? Why…?

“That’s it. Good girl.” My heart trips over itself and my breathing stutters. The machines beep louder and my world tilts on its axes. Did Eli just call me a good girl? The Eli King?

“He’s talking to you, Ava,” Eli says with a cruel tilt to his lips. “We got married two years ago, remember?”

“What? She got married against everyone’s recommendations and made Papa angry. I’ve never seen him so mad.”

“Pink diamonds…” I whisper. “Eli’s wedding gift.” Cecily smiles. “He got you the entire set, which is one of a kind.”

“I’m high maintenance.” “Just the way I like it.” “I have extremely expensive tastes.” “Good thing I come from old money and I’m rich enough to outshine a few countries’ GDP.” “I’ll drive you crazy.” “Nothing new there.” “I don’t like you.” “That’s because you love me.” “In your damn dreams. I’m way out of your league.” “I can rope you back in if I choose to.”

You can’t fuck the attitude out of her. Yet. Get it together.

A useless emotion that’s done no one any good. Except for producing me, but I’m a miracle for everyone’s existence.

His hard chest glues to mine as I grab his hair, run my fingers through it like I’ve always dreamed, and seal my lips to his. My first kiss, which I always fantasized would be with him. My first everything is his. Only his.

His lips taste of strong mint and a hint of alcohol. He tastes like my forever, the man who’ll make me forget I’m mentally damaged.

“Because I couldn’t care less about you or your glittery, entirely idealistic feelings. Turn around and remove your distasteful presence from my sight, and I’ll pretend I didn’t hear your embarrassing confessions.”

“Think again, because I can see your soul leaving your miserable body the next time you put your hands on my wife.” “I meant no disrespect.” “On the contrary.”

And I advise you not to mistake my patience for foolishness. The show from earlier is the last time you let another man touch what’s fucking mine. Are we clear?”

“You will look at your face when you come on my fucking fingers. The ring you wear isn’t a decorative item, Mrs. King. You’re my wife. My property. Fucking mine. It’s time you properly start acting the part.”

I have come to the grim conclusion that my wife has the destructive energy of a world war and the emotional IQ of a plastic flower.

I’m enchanted, enthralled, absolutely rooted in place with nothing better to do than watch her smile at me genuinely for the first time in…six years.

but she’s been a fucking vault these past two years, so I’m lucky she’s even talking again.

She’s the reason I was able to effectively ruin all of my wife’s ex-love interests.

Eli walks toward me, carrying a massive bouquet of beautifully arranged pink flowers.

You look stunning. My wife is many infuriating things, but she’s undeniably beautiful.

“You already have my unbound protection. I can give you children if that’s what you want. But love isn’t something I’m capable of. I presume you wouldn’t want that from me either.”

“I find you so extremely beautiful, it hurts to look at you sometimes.”

My mouth opens of its own accord—I blame the shocking turn of events—and he plunges his tongue between my teeth. It’s a mess of biting, twisting, and sucking my soul through my lips. He's kissing me.

And then I hear my voice echoing in the stillness, “We shouldn’t do this. My husband would kill me if he found out.”

Her condition has a diagnosis and it’s called psychosis. Shying away from putting a name on it or treating it like it’s taboo won’t do anyone any good, least of all her.

Truth is, I’ve craved her, so much that it hurts to look at her at times.

She’s a beautiful rose with mesmerizing energy that intoxicates the flies circling her, but like all roses, her stem is crowded with thorns. It’s me. I’m the thorns.

I narrow my eyes on the top of her head. She couldn’t sleep because she didn’t take her meds and the one person she chose to entertain her was Vance Elliot. Not me. Vance.

I don’t realize he’s joining me until I feel him position my body between his legs, and then he leans me back against his taut muscles and rests my head on his shoulders.

To this day, I have no idea why he became my watchdog after I started attending uni.

My own God of War.

She’s mine. Only mine. Body and fucking soul. And the harder she fights that, the more drastic my measures to own her become.

She trails off, not wanting to disclose too much. If only she knew the things I carry because of her. Things she’ll never, ever find out about.

I resist a smile. It was me. But I can’t tell

“Be my dinner.”

“If you believe I’ll stop after a kiss, you’re in for a massive surprise, Mrs. King.” “Yeah? What do you intend to do?” “Kiss every inch of your body, then fuck you for all the times I couldn’t.”

She’s so fucking beautiful, I can’t look her in the eye without feeling the burn in my bones.

This is why I shouldn’t touch my wife. Why I abstained for fucking years from claiming her. Not only is it a sure recipe for her mental decline, but she messes up my control, brings down my walls, and turns me into this sporadic entity of unhinged impulsiveness.

“I don’t believe you should be concerned with my wife’s beauty. Don’t you think, Mrs. Meyers?”

“You’re lucky we’re in public or that knife would’ve been deep in your throat. Look at my wife again and I’ll gouge your eyes out.”

“Questionable. No one lives just fine without my godly presence. I know because I wouldn’t want to live without me. You lot should pay me for having me in your lives.”

“A man doesn’t go to the lengths of eliminating each one of your prospects and then proceed to marry you if he doesn’t care.”

“Look at me. Hey, look at me. Focus on me. That’s it. Good girl. Breathe. Mimic me and breathe properly. In…out…in…out… You’re doing great, beautiful. Now I want you to take my hand, okay?”