God of Malice (Legacy of Gods #1) by Rina Kent

Sure enough, when the door opens, the one who strides inside, dressed all in black with a golf club resting on his shoulder, is none other than Landon.

Usually, the Elites put on white and gold masquerade masks during rivals’ week, but he obviously thinks that detail isn’t needed in this situation.

He wants me to know he’s the one behind this.

It’s personal.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he says casually. “I hope you had a good one, because you might not be able to sleep for a while.”

“Oh my, I’m shaking.” I mirror his tone. “Is this the part where I start to cry?”

“I know you can’t, but thanks for the effort.” He glances over his shoulder. “Do we have the water?”

“Enough to drown an elephant.”

Now, this is a surprise.

The owner of the last line is none other than Eli King. He’s about the same height as Landon, dressed in denim, and is currently dragging a giant hose.

Upon seeing me, he pauses, but his expression remains the same. “It’s nothing personal, Kill. Just family business.”

“I’m wounded. I thought we shared a connection.”

He props an elbow on Landon’s shoulder. “Not more than the one I share with this one. Imagine if I let him loose? Jesus. We’d have a massacre on our hands. Got to play my role as the eldest King and put him on some sort of leash. Besides, you ghosted me, Killer. Damn near cried myself to sleep when we were kids.”

“Aww.” I match his mocking voice. “I’d never do that. Your parents and my parents are annoyingly smart and figured out early on that we shouldn’t mingle or they’d have bloodbaths to clean up. Plural. If it’s of any consolation, I missed you.”

“Missed you, too, little Kill. But don’t go changing lanes after you f—touched my cousin.” Eli raises a brow. “She’d cry.”

“Are you done with whatever fucked-up shit you’re on?” Landon glares at the both of us, probably blindsided by my acquaintance with his cousin.

Eli and I met when we were young, when his parents visited mine in the States. I was around six that time and he was twelve, and even though we were practically strangers, it was the first time I found someone whose look mirrored mine.

That encounter was fascinating and irritating. I ended up beating his brother, Creighton, up just to rile him, and he would’ve ripped me a new one if Gareth, righteous golden boy Gareth, hadn’t intervened.

Fun times.

Just when I think all the players are here, a third person walks inside wearing jogging clothes. No kidding. Creighton appears as if he stumbled upon the place by chance.

Eli releases Landon and frowns at his brother. “What are you doing here?”

“Last I checked, I’m part of the King family.” That’s genuinely the most I’ve heard the emo fuck say. He usually stands at the corner of the table, spoken to but never replies, and is constantly bugged by both Remington and Annika.

A fact I’m intentionally keeping from Jeremy until further notice.

That notice is now.

He’ll regret messing with me when Jeremy uses his blood as his room’s wallpaper.

Besides, I’ve done my research on Glyndon’s family, and the seemingly docile, pretty boy actually has dark tastes no one is aware of.

Except for maybe Eli.

“I called him over,” Landon says without breaking eye contact with me.

“Then maybe I should call Brandon over, too,” Eli announces.

“If you want him to personally report us, then by all means.”

“I must say, I’m touched. You gathered almost the entire King clan just for me. If I’d known there would be a welcome-to-the-family ceremony, I would’ve put on my tux.”

Landon rolls his neck until the bones crack. “You think I’m playing?”

“I know you’re not. But don’t you think this is too extreme for the occasion?”

“Not as extreme as you sleeping with my sister when I clearly told you not to.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I needed permission from anyone about the status of our growing relationship.”

“Now, you do.”

“What are your demands, Your Majesty?”

“No demands, just torture.” He nods at Eli and he directs the high-pressure water straight in my face.

I was ready for it since they showcased their weapon of choice, but actually being blinded by water and breathing it instead of air is different in a practical sense.

The force physically jerks my head back and someone holds my shoulders from behind, keeping me in place.

My lungs burn and I swallow more water than I can handle. The spasms in my limbs increase in intensity until they’re close to seizure level.

It’s fucking irritating when my physical being chooses to fail my mind.

Just when I think I’ll faint, the flow stops. I cough, spluttering on all the water and dragging it and air in through my mouth.

My hair and clothes are soaked, the droplets forming a pool on the ground.

Once I’ve gotten enough air, I burst out laughing. “That’s all you got? What are you? A fucking amateur?”

“I wouldn’t provoke him if I were you.” Eli speaks in a tone that I would believe intends good if I didn’t already know that the motherfucker left his soul in his mother’s womb and was miraculously born without one.