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

However, Annika grins and sits beside him. “This dish must be so delicious if you’re this engrossed in it. Can I have a bite?”

“Get your own,” he mumbles after swallowing.

“I can’t really eat the whole plate. It looks fried, so a bite would do.”

“No,” he says point-blank.

“Just a little—” One second, she’s reaching for his container, and the next, he’s pinning her against the back of the sofa by her collarbone with one arm as he continues eating with the other.

“I said, no.”

“Okay.” Her smile falters. “Can you let me go?”

“I don’t trust you not to come after my food again, so you have to either stay in this position or leave.”

“Got it.”

She actually remains still, watching him the whole time.

“Cray Cray!” Remi shrieks and pulls Anni from beneath his hold. “What are you doing being rude to our American angel on the first meeting? Didn’t I teach you manners?”

“It’s okay.” Anni laughs. “I think he doesn’t like people coming after his food.”

“Yeah, he’s weird like that.” Remi pushes a container her way. “You can have this one.”

“What’s it called?”

We all stare at her dumbfounded and even Creighton pffts between bites.

She stares at him. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“She’s American, guys,” Ava tells us.

“Yeah,” I echo.

“Yeah, American,” Cecily says as if it’s an insult.

“I’m actually half Russian.” Annika stares between us with an awkward smile.

“It’s fish and chips, love,” Remi starts. “It’s like the national English dish, the revolution of the modern era and the bringer of joy. Even my lordship likes this simple working-class dish more than shagging. Okay, maybe they’re on the same level. Look, even picky Glyn is eating.”

“I’m not picky.” I glare while munching on a chip. “Don’t make me take Ava and Cecily's side and kick you out.”

“Trying is free. Succeeding isn’t, peasant.”

I’m ready to go at his throat, but my phone vibrates. “You just hold on, Remi.”

I let a chip hang between my lips and fish out my phone.

The text that sits on my screen makes me pause.

Unknown Number: What are you doing?

My first thought is that this could be the unknown number behind all those ambiguous texts, but that one doesn’t usually ask how I’m doing—just drops something nasty and leaves.

My thoughts are reconfirmed when another text comes through.

Unknown Number: Don’t tell me you’re sleeping? Though, of course you would be after having that orgasm. I’m the one who’s left with a cock so hard, I keep fantasizing about how you’ll bounce on it.

I choke on the half-eaten chip, and Bran taps my back and passes me a can of pop. “You okay?”

My cheeks must be crimson. The thought of Bran or anyone else seeing that text makes my skin crawl. “Totally cool. I’ll be back.”

I practically bolt to my room, dash inside, and slam the door shut, then lean against it. I jump when my phone vibrates in my hand again.

Unknown Number: Leaving me on read is bad etiquette, baby. I know you’re there.

Glyndon: How the hell do you have my number?

Unknown Number: It’s a lot easier than you think. But that’s not the issue here. My unsatisfied cock is. I really am not the giving type.

Glyndon: No one asked you to give anything.

Unknown number: Your little cunt would argue otherwise. I can still feel it clenching against my fingers with the desperation of a nymph. Also, I still have your taste on them. Haven't washed my hands yet. I think I’ll use them to rub one out in your honor while I imagine your body writhing beneath me as your blood coats my dick.

My core clenches as tingles spread all over my skin. I slowly close my eyes, willing it to go away, but it doesn’t.

Not even close.

I sit on the edge of the bed, my fingers slightly trembling.

Logically, I know this is just his sick fixation with my virginity. That he really won’t stop until he has it.

His twisted interest in me might have been poked on top of that cliff, but it was fully activated once he found out I was a virgin. Even his eyes shone in a way that was way different than before. His body tightened, and I could see the devil in him. Unmasked.

Unhinged.

Uncontrollable.

He’s a special breed who has absolutely no brakes. And the fact that I’m the subject of his sick fetish is terrorizing.

Considering that he probably has no limits, it’s absolutely horrifying to imagine what lengths he’d go to in order to get what he wants.

And yet, I can’t stop myself from being affected by his words.

Just…what is wrong with me?

Am I perhaps as defective as he is?

My heart hammers as another text lights up the screen.

Unknown Number: The real thing is better than my imagination, though. What are the chances of you opening your legs if I come over right now?

Glyndon: Zero.

Unknown Number: And if I ask nicely?

Glyndon: Still zero.

Unknown Number: You should’ve said 50%. Because there’s a 100% option if I somehow slip into your room while you’re sleeping.