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

“I can’t,” I force out.

“Then you might as well not speak again.” His hand that was around my throat slams on my mouth.

Killian opens my legs far apart so he can fit between them as he leans close. The new position gives him more depth and he fucks me like a madman and thrusts another finger in my arse, stretching me to the brim.

I can’t scream or moan, and any sound I release comes out haunted, muffled, and absolutely terrifying.

He’s probably thinking about killing me, but I’m coming again.

Just being handled roughly by him, not being allowed to even scream, is enough to have me shatter to pieces.

No matter how much I try to deny it, I love this part of him.

This part of us.

“I knew you were custom-made for me, baby.” He still sounds angry, but he’s aroused. “I’m going to fill you up with my cum so you know exactly who you fucking belong to.”

I shudder as warmth spreads over my insides. I expect him to pull out, but he stays there, semi-hard and slowly rocks his hips as if making sure that not one drop leaves.

Killian watches me, half focused, his eyes almost closed, but he continues the erotic movements.

“Maybe I should fill you up with my baby,” he murmurs, so low I can barely hear him. “That way you can’t escape me.”

Then he releases my mouth, collapses on top of me, absolutely burning, and completely crushes me with his weight.

I push at his shoulders, but he’s as unmoving as a buffalo.

“Killian,” I strain.

He grunts and effortlessly flips us over so he’s carrying my weight, but he’s still deep inside me.

“I can sleep on the bed,” I whisper.

“My body is a better bed,” he slurs back without opening his eyes.

“Take medication, you’re burning up.”

“Mmm.”

“Killian…”

His arms wrap around my middle, keeping me in place as he inhales me. “You chose me.”

“What?”

“Back there, you chose me in front of your brother. Brothers, plural. And that fucker Eli.”

Shit. He was conscious during that?

Killian kisses the top of my head and before I can backpedal, he says the words that go straight to my heart. “I’ll make sure you always choose me as much as I choose you.”





30





GLYNDON





I’m losing a piece of myself.

And it’s happening so fast that I can’t catch my breath during the process.

In fact, I only realized it when I couldn’t sleep in the flat I share with the girls anymore. It became absolutely strange and appalling to sleep on any bed other than Killian’s.

It’s been three weeks since that night I woke up with his dick inside me and slowly fused my life with his.

I’m losing control—or whatever control I have.

Which is why I’m drinking right now with everyone in a downtown quiet-ish pub. Well, as quiet as pubs that uni kids go to can get. At least it’s not rowdy like the bigger club on the other side of town.

An unknown band plays in the background, the music drowned out by the sound of chatter and the pinging of billiard balls. The smell of alcohol permeates the air or maybe just my nose.

I don’t usually drink, because it makes me act like a fool, but it’s not like I’m doing it with strangers.

After making sure I have enough shots to send me into a coma, I down the fifth. No, I think it’s the seventh.

“Easy on the alcohol, Glyn,” Cecily chastises from beside me. She’s been nursing one glass of tequila since we got here.

“Let her be.” Remi slides a shot glass in my direction. “I love drunk Glyndon.”

I smile with one eye open and hold the glass up, then drink it. “One in your honor, Remi.”

“Hell to the fucking yeah.” He pours another shot down his throat. “My lordship has decided to forgive you for choosing this boring pub.”

I roll my hand exaggeratingly and bow. “Much appreciated, Your Majesty.”

“It’s your lordship, peasant.”

“Her mum has a lady title.” Ava pokes him with a chip. “Ignorant much?”

“Wait, really? How come I’m only finding out about this now?” Remi looks up, placing an L on his chin in a comical thoughtful gesture. “Must be because you all act like peasants, except for you, Bran. You’re definitely aristocracy. Beautiful, suave, and with that untouchable charisma. You take that after me.”

Bran shakes his head. “I was born before you, Remi.”

“So? You can still take after me. Isn’t that right, Cray Cray?”

My cousin seems more preoccupied with his phone than anyone at the table.

Annika lounges opposite him, looking like a real-life Barbie. She stopped chattering on and on in Creigh’s company lately and even started to distance herself. Not sure if it’s because she gets absolutely no answer in return or she couldn’t be bothered anymore. Sometimes, I feel sorry for her. She had to be interested in someone who doesn’t feel the need to talk.

It’s why he gets along with Bran. They can sit around for hours on end and not say a word. No kidding. Ava and Remi tested it once.

Since Bran gets along with Mia, Creigh could, too, if he meets her. Though in the few times we’ve gotten together over the past couple of weeks, I gathered that she’s expressive, just doesn’t talk. Killian said it’s due to an incident that took place in her childhood. And he’s become her personal translator whenever Bran and I are around.