God of Malice (Legacy of Gods, #1)

by Rina Kent

“I would’ve put my med student status to use and nursed you back to health. It might have turned kinky like some cheap porn’s plot right afterward, though.”

“Does everything have to revolve around sex with you?” “Hmm. Good question.” He tilts his head in my direction. “I think that’s only the case when it comes to you.” “Because you want my virginity?” “There’s that, but it’s not the sole reason.” “What is then?” “You’re not ready for it yet.”

Being special to a borderline psychopath is about the worst position I could be in.

“The fact that you’re mine.”

“You can’t force me to become yours.” “Watch me.” “I’ll fight every step of the way.” “By all means. It’d make the end result sweeter.” “I hate you.” “Let me search for the fucks I have to give.” He pretends to study his surroundings. “See? None.”

I’m pretty sure he can smell any change of emotions like some human dog. Just because he doesn’t feel emotions like the rest of us doesn’t mean he can’t recognize them or even understand them.

If there’s anything I’ve learned about Killian, it’s the fact that he’s a well-adjusted psychopath. He has immense impulse control, and is calculative to a fault.

“Life isn’t fair, why should I be?”

Something touches my shoulder and I freeze as the speaker echoes around us, “Number sixty-nine eliminated.” I swing back to stare at Killian, who just tapped me with his bat. “You think I haven’t figured out what you’re up to, little rabbit?” “Why…you…you…” “Deep breaths.” The amusement in his voice pisses me the hell off. “That’s it. We don’t want you to somehow have a stroke when you’re this young.” “Why have you waited until now to eliminate me?” He lifts a shoulder. “It was fun watching you trying to distract me and acting like an amateur in a B-class spy movie. You should look at your adorable face.” He retrieves his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture. “Now, I’ll keep this expression with me forever.” “I’m going to kill you.” “I’ll kiss you in the meantime.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, this neurotypical human is leaving.”

A sad smile pulls his lips, resembling the shades of autumn. That’s what fits him—a mixture of warm, dying colors.

My lack of knowledge on Greek literature has always been my Achilles' elbow.

They flock to him like a moth to a flame without knowing they’ll burn if they get too close.

Caught a little rabbit tonight and I decided to keep it.

“Since when do you use the word think? Have you hit your head somewhere? Let me take you to the hospital for a quick scan, maybe see if you actually have a brain while we’re at it.”

What’s so great about emotions anyway? All my life, I’ve only seen them cause more harm than good. If people toned down on that poison a little, they wouldn’t need the drugs to battle it.

When we were little, people told their kids they loved them to the moon and back, but Mom picked the most distant planet in the solar system and told us that’s how much she loves us.

The only difference is, I don’t want to be in the same room with him. Not after that day. “We should’ve only had Gareth.” I heard him tell Mom when I punched one of my classmates because he was bullying my cousin. Mom cried her eyes out. “Ash! If you love me, don’t ever say anything like that again. Killian is our son, too.” “A defective one.” That’s what I was. The defective one. I didn’t hear what Mom said after that, because Dad’s words made sense. I’m the defective one compared to Gareth, and even Nikolai. Still the most superior, just saying.

She’s the most non-spontaneous, terribly unsociable person I know. But she’s so real, it fucking pisses me off.

What are the chances of drowning that boy in the fountain without anyone noticing? Probably zero since it takes someone a long time to die by drowning. The gurgling, struggling, and slow fucking death may be worth being locked up for, though.

I knew red was my favorite color.

“If you touch any other woman, I’ll go find my type.”

She looks at it expectantly. “Will I find a dead rat in this?” “Shh. It’s supposed to be a surprise.” “You’re not funny.” “So you keep telling me, but I promise it’s not my intent to be. Now, open it.”

“Wow.” Her lips part. “You…made this?” “Yeah. Look, I even did a smiley face with the vegetables on the rice.” Her shoulders shake with laughter. “That’s a very creepy smile and looks more horror-esque.” “At least I tried.”

She smiles big, doing a horrible job at hiding her discomfort. “I’m fine, really. Don’t worry, Glyn.” “That will just make me worry more.” “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. Really, never mind me.” My chest contracts and I swallow the drool that’s gathered in my mouth. Never mind me, Glyn. People like me are just not important. Devlin’s words rush back to my mind with the lethality of a storm. Red slowly creeps into my vision.

Dark blue eyes crash into mine with the lethality of a natural disaster, a train wreck, and a war. Combined.

“You always wanted the nice guy; too bad you got the fucking villain.”

I slowly close my eyes, admitting defeat. And the moment I do, a feeling I never thought I’d be experiencing under the circumstances washes over me. Relief. Complete, utter, and unmatched relief.

“Eyes on me when I fuck you, baby.”

Killian is the worst monster I know, but he’s the only person I’ve wanted with twisted depravity. The only person who provokes the hidden part of me from the shadows and makes me stare at them under the light.

“Your blood is making a mess of the sheets,” Killian groans. “Do you see the welcoming ceremony your cunt is holding for me?”

His eyes rage with a color I’ve never seen before—a lighter blue, a living blue. A blue so bright, it’s almost impossible to imagine it on someone like him.

What I didn’t realize, however, is the level of release I could have with her. It’s similar to that first time I cut open the mice and saw what was inside them. It’s the thrill of possessing someone’s life between my fingers. Literally. I could’ve snapped her fragile throat with a flick of my hand and sent her to a different universe. But instead of fighting as usual, she surrendered to it, and even came because of it. Glyndon trusted me not to break her neck. She shouldn’t have.

I don’t usually choke with my bare hands, because even I don’t trust my own strength or bloodlust. My demons could take over at any time and make me kill someone accidentally. And then there would be the hassle of hiding the crime and blah fucking blah.

Glyndon, the seemingly innocent, absolutely clueless little rabbit touched me.

She didn’t stop touching me, holding on to me, fucking injecting her venom into my veins until all I could breathe was her arousal and her motherfucking fruity perfume.

“Oh, my God,” she breathes out. “That’s right, your god. Worship at my altar, baby.”

Sometimes, she’s so perfect it pisses me the fuck off. Because while Gareth’s words mean shit to me, he’s right about the shell part. She has a core. I don’t. The fact that our differences will always be a wall between us fills me with more rage.

I wonder how it looks on the inside, in the middle of all the blood. What else could I find? But that would mean I’d have to open her up for it, like all those postmortem patients, and the idea sends a queasy feeling to my stomach. If I do see inside her, I’ll lose her voice, her warmth, her temper, and even her irritating fight. Everything. I don’t want her dead. Fuck. I actually don’t want her dead and I’m ready to fight my demons so they’ll abandon the urge to see inside her.

“Can you not be all pragmatic for a second?” “How else will I have you flushing like a virgin? Oh, sorry, you’re no longer one.” “Very funny.” I grin, locking a blonde strand between my fingers. “I live to entertain.”

“Then…how about STDs, aren’t you like Mr. Manwhore or something?” “No, Miss Ex-Virgin. I am not a manwhore. In fact, I didn’t have sex the past two months and I’m clean. I always use condoms.” “Not with me.” “Not with you,” I repeat. “How else would I have felt your blood on my cock?” “Would you stop talking like a creep?” “A hot creep.” “A creep is a creep.” She clears her throat. “I can’t believe you were celibate for two whole months.” “Miracles happen.” “Why?” “Because sex started to get dull and I would rather not be bored to death.” “I find that hard to believe, considering your persistence of fucking me.” “You’re different.”

New resolution—always be in a position to feel her pulse, because that beautiful fucker never lies.

I like getting under her skin. It’s as close as I can get to seeing inside her without having her blood decorate my carpet.

“Why did you get ravens as tattoos?” “They’re crows, not ravens.” “There’s not much of a difference.” “On the contrary. Ravens are all about bad omens and ill-fatea terminology I don’t believe in.” “Don’t crows have the same symbolism?” “No. Crows are all about death—more spiritual than physical. I got these tattoos after I killed the impulsive, low on self-control, blatantly violent Killian. He was a disgrace to the balanced me from the present.”

“Or he just wanted to be understood.” Her soft murmur echoes in the air, then she purses her lips as if regretting what she said. My body goes rigid. That’s the first fucking time someone ever said that about my less sophisticated version. And I don’t know whether or not I should strangle her for it.

He’s that type of intensity. The storm you only feel when it’s wrecking you from the inside.

His kiss is damnation in its purest form, and while I thought he wasn’t what I wanted, maybe this monster is exactly what I need.

I let my guard down because you were with me, but I should’ve known better than to trust a conniving little rabbit.

Killian’s lips meet my forehead and I’m pretty sure something jostles in my heart when he murmurs, “That’s my girl.”

“You’ll be late anyway, so how about we go back to my very logical idea of staying in bed all day?” I stare at Killian from my position in the passenger seat of his car. “Are you kidding?” He taps his finger on the steering wheel. “It’s strange how I rarely joke, but you choose to think that anyway. We need to work on your denial issues.”