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

“It’s highly recommended.”

“I would rather choke to death.”

“I can make that happen, but I prefer feeling that wild pulse in your neck.”

My palms turn sweaty and I rub them against the sides of my shorts. There’s no need to guess if these are casual words or not, because I have no doubt that this psycho would make them come true.

He’s really unhinged.

“You should work on quitting that habit.” He motions at my palms that are slowly going up and down. “It gives away your discomfort. Or is it anxiety? Maybe nervousness? Or the three combined?”

It hits me then.

If he’s like Lan, then he doesn’t process emotions like the rest of us. It’s not only about a lack of empathy for these guys. They literally don’t see emotions through the same lenses as normal people.

Almost every single socially acceptable emotion they have to portray is gradually learned through their environment. Little by little, they perfect their outer image to the point where they’re indistinguishable in a crowd.

But if anyone gets close, close enough to see behind the façade, they find out just how dysfunctional, how cardboard they are.

How…lonely they actually get.

Lan has never liked how Bran and I get along—how alike we are—because he can’t fit in with us. He thinks he reigns over us, but I’ve almost always pitied his lone wolf status.

He’ll never know how to love properly, laugh properly, experience joy, or even feel pain properly.

He’s a mash of molecules, atoms, and matter with complete and utter emptiness for which he needs constant stimuli to keep filled up to the brim.

Like a house of cards, he can scatter at any second.

He’ll never live like the rest of us.

And neither will Killian.

I just feel zero sympathy for this bastard.

And that’s why I can provoke him.

“Giving away my emotions is my business. At least I have those unlike a certain someone.”

“Is this the part where I should act offended? Maybe try to shed a tear or two?”

“Yeah, and look into ways to grow a heart while you’re at it.”

“The world won’t function correctly if all of us are emotional, morally right creatures. There needs to be a balance, or else there’ll be chaos.”

“Are you kidding me? You guys are the ones who instigate chaos.”

“Organized chaos is different from anarchy. I choose to uphold society’s standards by reigning over it instead of ruining it.” He pauses. “And who are you guys?”

I huff but say nothing.

He taps a finger against the steering wheel. “I asked you a question, Glyndon.”

“I obviously refuse to answer.”

A large hand falls on my bare thigh. The touch is callous and so possessive that my skin erupts in a wild heat.

“As much as I like your fight, there are situations where you should read the atmosphere and not defy me.”

I grab his wrist, attempting to remove his hand, but it’s like I’m pushing a wall. It’s scary how much strength he has and how weak and fragile I feel in his presence.

It’s impossible to stop his fingers from sneaking up my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. There’s pure command in the way he touches me with dripping control, as if I’m a conquest he’s set on finishing off.

I know the best method to get off his radar is having him get bored of me, and that any resistance on my part will probably flame his interest, but I can’t.

I just can’t let him have his way with me.

It’ll break me this time.

It’ll make me drive to that cliff with no chances of coming back.

So I claw at his fingers, my heart hammering faster and harder. “Let me go.”

“How else am I going to get an answer for the question I asked?” His fingers slip under the hem of my shorts with expert ease. It doesn’t even matter that his other hand is on the steering wheel or that he’s driving.

“Don’t,” I whisper as the pads of his fingers hover close to my underwear. “I’m telling you no, Killian.”

“The word no doesn’t scare me, baby. We guys don’t give a fuck about its meaning or the lack thereof. Besides, doesn’t no mean yes sometimes?”

“Not this time.”

“Debatable.” His voice drops to a dangerous rumble. “The thing is, I might not feel emotions the same way everyone else does, but I can understand them in others, oftentimes better than they do. And right now, I can smell your fear mixed with something entirely different. You’re terrified I’ll repeat what happened at the cliff and confiscate your control, but at the same time, you’re buzzing with the possibility, secretly wishing for it.” His fingers curl against my knickers and a whimper escapes me. “You’re soaking wet for it, baby.”

“Don’t touch me,” my voice breaks and I can’t help the shame that coats my words or the tears that fill my eyes.

“You can’t entice a predator with prey and ask him to go hungry.” His fingers glide against my folds, the weight of his hand forcing my thighs apart despite my attempts to close them. “I bet you were also wet when you were choking on my cock with your life hanging on the edge. Did your little cunt throb and demand to be touched, too? I bet it was getting all drenched and achy. I loved your lips with my cock wrapped around them and cum coating them, but maybe I should’ve gone for your pussy, too.” He reaches a finger beneath my underwear and thrusts it deep inside. “I bet these lips would look even better with my cock tearing into them.”