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

He chuckles, the sound soft, but his touch in my hair is anything but. “Careful. I’m allowing you to push, but don’t mistake my tolerance for acceptance. I’m not a generous man.”

“Shocker.”

“Your stubbornness can be grating, but we’ll smooth it out.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Go out with me for a ride.”

I stare at him, eyes big, waiting for him to laugh.

He doesn’t.

“Are you serious?”

“Do I seem like the joking type?”

“No, but you must be the delusional type if you think I’ll go anywhere with you.”

“Willingly.”

“What?”

“You won’t go anywhere with me willingly. But I can find ways to drag you out of here and no one will see you.”

“My brother and cousins are up there,” I hiss, searching for them with my gaze.

Come on, Lan, even your craziness is welcome right now.

“They won’t see either,” he says casually. “If I choose to, no one will hear of you again and you’ll be a measly statistic.”

A shudder slashes down my spine because I know, I just know this is no joking matter to him and that if he chooses to, he could and would definitely keep his word.

“Stop it,” I whisper.

“I might consider that when you do what I asked for earlier and go on a ride with me.”

“So you have the green light to do as you threatened? If you actually kidnap me, no one will be the wiser since I went with you on my own feet.”

“That’s true, but I promise to return you safely.”

“Excuse me for not believing you.”

“Hmm.” He strokes the lobe of my ear, back and forth like an eerie lullaby. “What would make you believe me?”

“Nothing.” I breathe harshly, partly because of being in his presence and the fact that he won’t stop freaking touching me. I don’t react well to my sensory world and it shows. “I don’t trust you and never will.”

“As I said, never say never.” His eyes hold mine hostage for a second, two, and I swear I’m going to catch fire by the third. “How about I prove that I keep my word?”

“How the hell would you do that?”

“I’ll win this upcoming match for you.”

“Oh, so you’ll beat up Creigh—who happens to be my cousin—to prove a point. What a classic you move.”

“I’ll lose it then,” he says without blinking. “I’ll get beaten up to prove a point.”

My lips fall open, but I quickly recuperate. “I don’t want that.”

“That’s what you’ll get.” He brushes my hair again. “And you’ll watch every moment of it, baby. If you dare leave, I’ll send that cousin of yours into a coma.”

“You…wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“Why the hell are you doing all of this? Are you…insane?”

“Maybe. After all, insanity, evil, and ruthlessness are boundless and lawless. I’d rather be insane than an ordinary fool.” He leans over and my heart stops beating for a fraction of a second as he kisses the top of my head slowly, gently. “Wait for me, baby.”

And then his touch is gone, and so are the remnants of my fragile sanity.

I can only watch as he rushes through the crowd and heads to the middle of the ring.





8





GLYNDON





This is crazy.

He’s crazy.

I've been well aware of that fact since the first time I met him, but I’m one hundred percent sure now. There’s no doubt about his psychosis.

My fingers clench and I slide them against my shorts, then fish out my phone and tap the number called ‘Emergency.’

It rings once. Twice.

And then he picks up with a half-sleeping voice. “Hello? Glyndon?” The older male voice speaks with its usual warmth. “Are you there?”

“Um, yeah. Sorry if I woke you up.”

“No, I was just watching TV and dozed off. Where are you? It sounds noisy.”

“I’m outside with friends.” I kick an imaginary pebble. “It’s coming back, Dr. Ferrell. I can’t… I can’t control it anymore.”

“That’s okay. Breathe.” His voice sobers up, sounding soothing like that first time Mum took me to him at my request.

Ever since my early teens, I suffered with a huge inferiority complex and I couldn’t survive in our household without the need to do something nefarious.

It didn’t matter how much my parents tried to talk to me, I always found a way to escape into my own head and block them out.

Which is where Dr. Ferrell came in. I was too hesitant to talk to my family, but I could pour my heart out to a professional. He taught me how to recognize when I’m overwhelmed, to talk about it instead of burying it, to paint it instead of letting it rip me from the inside out.

But I don’t have my brush and canvas now, so I could only call him. This late. Like a creep.

“What made it come back?” he asks after a moment.

“I don’t know. Everything?”

“Does this concern Devlin?”

“Yes and no. I don’t like people living their lives as if Devlin was never a part of it. I don’t like how they tiptoe around his name as if he was never there, or how they’re even starting rumors about his weird tendencies. I was his only friend, I knew him best, I could defend him best, but the moment I want to talk, my tongue gets tied up and I start hyperventilating. I hate it, this, them, the fact that they erased him as if he never existed.” A tear cascades down my cheek. “He said it would happen, that he and I would be forgotten, and I think…maybe…maybe that’s true.”