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

She’s just growing more into herself and into this wrecking force that’s coming after my life.

By the time we prepare to land, she manages to win and rubs it in our faces and gloats until we think she’ll do it till kingdom come.

“Feels good to be a winner.” She fastens her seatbelt at the flight attendant’s call.

I tighten it further around her waist. “You actually won the least between the three of us and only because you stole more cards than we could.”

“I’m sorry, what? I can’t hear you over the victory fireworks in my head.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Stop being adorable before I fuck you right here, right now.”

“Don’t do that,” she whisper-yells. “Ugh. I can’t stop remembering that many airplane crashes happened while trying to land.”

“Then I guess you should hold my hand, hmm?” I offer her my palm and she takes it, threading her fingers through mine and tucking it in her lap.

Full-blown satisfaction fills my system at the thought of being her anchor.

It isn’t some Prince Charming, a boring type, or another man.

Me.

The feeling of complete euphoria slowly dulls down with the reminder of where we’re going.

Fucking home.





It’s strange how the mind categorizes events and shoves them into boxes of archives. Some are forgotten after a day or a week.

Others stay there forever. In fact, they slip into subconsciousness and make sure they’re never forgotten.

My family home on the outskirts of New York City is a modern mansion that could tick the dream house checklist of most Americans. It even has the white fence cliché my mother probably dreamt of when she was young.

It’s huge, personalized to the smallest detail, and fit to be the home of Asher and Reina Carson. As in, the American king and queen who instantly become the talk of every media outlet the moment they’re in public.

In this house, I’ve had everything people would consider happy memories. A loving mother, a present father—more than need be—birthday parties, running around like headless chickens with Gareth, Nikolai, Mia, and Maya.

And my awakening by hunting and killing those mice.

People tend to romanticize the past, I don’t. Because those memories? They’re nothing more than yellowed pages in an old forgotten book.

The only thing I remember from this house is Mom’s terrified expression, Dad’s frown, and eventually his ‘we shouldn’t have had Killian’ and ‘he’s defective’ words.

Leaving for college was the best thing that ever happened to me. I needed to stay out of Dad’s orbit, away from the constant ticking bomb that goes off in my head whenever he’s in sight.

So the last place I want to be in is his house.

But since I’m proving a point to the infuriating little shit Glyndon, here we fucking go.

She remains a step behind us, getting distracted by watching the house with her inquisitive eyes.

And yes, she definitely made us stop by a shop so she could change into a floral dress, smooth her hair and makeup, and buy a gift.

“My parents taught me to never go into someone’s home empty-handed,” she said when I told her the gift was unnecessary.

A small sound of tap, tap reaches us first before a model-like woman with the shiniest blonde hair appears, coming down the stairs.

Mom’s smile is the most contagious thing I’ve ever seen. Usually, other people’s emotions don’t matter to me. Yes, I can discern them, can even understand them when their owners can’t, but I don’t give a fuck about them.

Reina Ellis Carson is the exception to that.

And now, Glyndon is, too.

Mom wraps both Gareth and me in a hug, her head resting on our shoulders. She’s shorter than us, so we have to lower ourselves to pat her back so she doesn’t have to strain, or worse, dangle between us.

No kidding, she did that once.

“I missed you so much!” She pulls back to run her hand over our bodies. “Let me look at you. Did you get taller or what? I can’t believe this. Next time, I’ll get a staircase to reach you. Ahh, my boys are back home together. I couldn’t believe it when Gareth told me earlier.”

She hugs us again and I share a look with my brother.

Here we go again.

After basically strangling us for five minutes, she finally notices Glyndon, who has tried her best to remain in the background during Mom’s welcome home ceremony.

I didn’t think it possible, but Mom’s expression brightens further. “And you are?”

“Hello. My name is Glyndon.” She offers her a wrapped present. “Thank you for having me.”

“Oh, thank you. You’re so sweet and well-mannered.” Mom accepts her present. “You’re with…”

“Me.” I wrap an arm around her waist and bring her to my side. “She’s my girl.”

“The one who got your lips bruised the other time?”

“The one and only.” It wasn’t due to making out, but I was that way because of a fight I did for her, so it counts.

“W-what?” Glyndon asks with enough awkwardness to redden her neck.

“It’s nothing.” Mom feigns innocence. “I’m so glad Killian is finally bringing someone home. I thought he’d die alone. Don’t get me wrong, I know he sleeps around, but it’s never just one person and I was worried it’d come back and bite him in the ass.”