God of Malice (Legacy of Gods #1) by Rina Kent
Then I hold my head between my hands and let all the tears loose.
By the time day breaks, I’m ready to escape without facing anyone in my family.
I pack my suitcase for the new semester, then I take a shower that probably lasts for an hour. I scrub my mouth, my hair, my hands, my nails.
Anywhere that psycho touched me.
Then I put on a pair of jeans, a top, and a jacket, ready to hit the road. I pull out my phone and text my girls. We’ve had a group chat since we were basically in nappies and it’s where we always talk.
Ava: Is it weird that I’m losing hair because of Ari? She won’t shut up about wanting to join the group chat.
Cecily: Tell her to reapply in two years once she’s of age. We only talk big girl stuff here.
Ava: Big girl stuff? Bitch, where? Didn’t see that on your prude menu in the last…nineteen years.
Cecily: Very funny. Rolling on the ground as we speak. Not.
Ava: You know you love me, Ces *kisses emojis*
Juggling my bag on one shoulder, I type with my other hand.
Glyndon: Ready to hit the road for uni. Who’s driving?
We can actually fly to the island in a shorter amount of time, but that would mean taking a plane, and I’m scared of flying.
My screen lights up with a reply.
Ava: Not me. That’s for sure. We stayed up with Mum, Dad, and our grandparents last night, and I feel like a zombie.
Cecily: I’ll do it. Give me another hour. Still didn’t get my fill of Mum and Papa.
I’m about to type that I’m in a hurry but stop mid-text when Ava texts back.
Ava: Gonna miss Mum and Dad like fucking shit. Grandpa and Grandma, too. Sigh. I’ll even miss the troublemaker, Ari. Have you guys seen her new IG handle? Ariella-jailbait-Nash. That bold little bitch, I swear. If Dad sees it, he’ll lock her the fuck up. Did I mention that I’m losing hair because of her?
With both of them being sentimental, if I said let’s leave right now, it’d seem as if I were the one who was running away from my parents or something.
I’m not.
And really, I’ll miss them like hell, too. Maybe even more than Ava and Cecily will miss theirs, but sometimes, I just don’t like myself around my family.
When I peek down from upstairs, the dining table is already buzzing with energy.
Mum is putting some eggs in front of Bran, and Dad is helping but somehow getting in the way since he touches her every chance he gets. Something that she scolds him for but still laughs about anyway.
I stop at the base of the stairs to watch them together. It’s been a habit of mine since I was young and dreamed about my own Prince Charming.
Dad is big, tall, muscular and so blond, it’s like he’s a Viking god, as Mum likes to call him. He’s also one of the two heirs of the King fortune. A man of steel with a ruthlessness that’s often spoken about in the media.
However, around Mum and us? He’s the best husband and father. The man who gave me higher standards.
Ever since I was young, I’ve seen how he’s treated my mother as if he can’t inhale oxygen without her around. And I’ve seen how she looks at him as if he’s her protector. Her shield.
Her partner.
Even now, she shakes her head as he slips a hand around her midsection and steals a kiss from her lips.
Her cheeks turn red, but she doesn’t attempt to shoo him away. I inherited her height and the rich depth of her green eyes. But other than that, we’re as different as night and day.
She’s such a talented artist, and I can’t even reach her ankle.
She’s a strong woman, and I’m just…me.
Bran is oblivious to the PDA happening near him as he elegantly cuts his eggs and focuses on his tablet. Probably reading some arts magazine.
It’s Mum who notices me first and promptly pushes Dad away. “Glyn! Morning, baby.”
“Morning, Mum.” I plaster the brightest smile on my face, drop my backpack on the chair, and kiss her cheek, then Dad’s. “Morning, Dad.”
“Morning, little princess. Where did you sneak to last night?”
I step back with a start and stare at Bran, who merely lifts a shoulder. “I wasn’t the only one who noticed.”
“I just went out to get some air,” I whisper, dropping down beside my brother.
Mum and Dad take their seats with my father at the head of the table. He picks up his fork and knife and speaks without taking a bite. “You could’ve gotten some air within the property. Roaming around at night is dangerous, Glyndon.”
You have no idea how true that statement is.
I take a sip of my orange juice to stop myself from reliving the rotten memories from last night.
“Let her be, Levi.” Mum passes me a boiled egg—well-cooked, the way I like—with a smile. “Our Glyn is a big girl now and can take care of herself.”
“Not if she’s attacked by some crazy scum in the middle of the night.”
I choke on the bit of juice that’s stuck in my mouth. Bran passes me a napkin and gives me a weird look.
Shit.
Please don’t tell me it’s written all over my face.
“Don’t jinx it,” Mum tells him with a frown, then points at the egg. “Eat, honey.”
I stuff my mouth with the white of the egg and Mum shakes her head when I basically throw most of the yolk away.
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