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

“Are you sure it’s not the other way around?” Cecily crosses her arms. “Your attention to Creigh is the method you use to feel that you’re doing good, so it’s self-service.”

“The nerd police called and they’re saying you’re too nerdy for anyone’s liking.”

“Sure it wasn’t the manwhore police saying you’re at top risk of STDs?”

“Says the prude.”

“If you think that’s an insult, try again. At least I’m not at risk of contracting STDs.”

“There’s a thing called a condom. Ever heard of it? Oh, sorry, forgot you’re a prude.”

“He did forget to use one once,” Creighton says and we all turn to him. “Condom.”

Remi headlocks him. “Don’t go telling my lordship’s secrets, you cheeky bastard.”

Cecily is like a dog who’s found a bone and goes after Remi with the viciousness of a warrior.

I laugh, or more accurately force it out, pretending to be happier than I actually am. Pretending that this scene can help reduce the chaos brewing inside me.

A dash of black flashes in my peripheral vision, and I spin around so fast, I’m surprised I don’t trip.

It was there again.

I’m sure that someone was looking at me from the shadows, watching my every move.

My body heat rises and I rub my palm on the side of my shorts. Once.

Twice.

My phone burns in my pocket and I can’t stop thinking about the text I got two days ago.

I refused to think about it at the moment, shoved it to the background, and pretended that it belonged with the rest of the baggage that’s ruining my life. But I don’t think I can do that anymore.

Is it even about Dev anymore?

Or is it so much worse?

The banter from the group I’m in starts dissolving until it becomes white noise. My vision turns blurry.

Everything is.

I can’t even see my fingers.

My right foot steps back and then the other follows. I’m retreating, but I don’t know where to.

Or how.

All I’m sure about is that I need to get the hell out of here.

Now.

I’ll text the guys later and tell them I was feeling under the weather. Though maybe I need to switch up that excuse, considering I’ve used it quite a few times lately—

A strong hand slams against my mouth and I shriek as I’m flung backward.

The only sound that comes out of me is an eerie, muffled noise overflowing with desperation for life.

A savage hand wraps around my mouth as my back hits the wall. My eyes widen when they meet with those psychotic ones.

They’re dim, lifeless—just like two nights ago.

He tsks, his voice a darkened whisper. “You sure are hard to be found alone, Glyndon.”





5





GLYNDON





Grandpa once told me there will be times when I’ll feel so trapped that a way out seems impossible.

I’ll be suffocated.

I’ll feel so out of my element, as if all the walls are closing in on my heart.

He said that if I felt that way, the key is to stay calm, to not let fear seep in.

A disaster might or might not kill you, princess. But being terrified of it would definitely finish you.

I wish I had enough access to my brain so I could use it to put Grandpa’s words into perspective. I wish I was strong like him, Uncle, Dad, or Mum.

I wish I wasn’t thinking about ways of dissolving into the wall or the earth.

Or anywhere that’s not in the stranger’s field of vision. His body covers my front and it’s all hard, strong, and so terrifying, I feel like I’m going to throw up.

Memories from two nights ago slash my bruised conscience and ugly voices scream in my head.

Loud.

Louder.

I think… I’m having a panic attack.

I can’t have a panic attack. I’ve always been apathetic in a way, hard to have emotions pulled out of me, and even harder to translate them in the sensory world without my brush. So why the hell am I panicking?

My eyes don’t leave the stranger’s muted ones and it hits me then.

It’s because of them that I’m having this reaction.

These eyes that resemble the clashing of a rainy forest with the night. During the night, I couldn’t decipher their color, but even in the light, the green and blue are so dark, it’s as if they’re colorless.

He’s colorless, and not in a bland sense, but in the exact opposite way.

Mum says the eyes are the window to a person’s soul. In that case, there’s a black hole where this bastard’s soul is supposed to be.

The hand he imprisons me with against the wall isn’t harsh, but it’s firm enough to translate that he’s the one with the power. The one who can turn a mere touch into an act of violence as he did before. Since I already had an encounter with him, he’s already established his savagery and that no societal standards bind him. So even though he’s holding me with infinite ease, appearing as if he’s not exerting any type of force, I know better.

I really, really know better.

Hot breaths kiss the side of my cheek as he hikes up an arm over my head and leans down to speak so close to my face that I taste the words instead of hearing them. “I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth and you’ll be quiet for me. Scream, and I’ll resort to unpleasant methods.”