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

Glyndon: My friends won’t let you.

Unknown Number: They won’t find out, and if they do, I’ll strap them to their beds with duct tape.

Glyndon: Even Annika?

Unknown Number: Especially that one. She’s loud as fuck most of the time.

Glyndon: Jeremy will kill you.

Unknown Number: Not if I tell him she was putting herself in danger and I tied her up for her own good. And aww, are you worried about me, baby?

Glyndon: If by worried, you mean I’m commissioning a voodoo doll with your name on it to stab it to death, decapitate it, and watch the tendons snap, then sure, I’m sick with worry.

Unknown Number: I like your gory imagination and attention to detail. You should show me your paintings sometime. I want to see inside your head.

Glyndon: Never.

Unknown Number: Never say never.

Glyndon: I’m going to sleep.

Unknown Number: Sleep tight and dream of me. And who knows? Maybe it’ll come true.





13





GLYNDON





Something moves between my legs and I mumble a whine.

It thickens and I startle awake. At first, I’m disoriented, my mind foggy with sleep and my response slower than a vintage train.

But I don’t get to react.

A shadow looms over me, large and threatening. He pulls my legs apart with a strong hand and I open my mouth to shriek, but he slams a palm over it.

Terror courses through me and I begin to hyperventilate. My heart thunders to life with frightening intensity.

I scream, but the only sound that comes out is a haunted muffled noise.

He expertly removes my knickers and I try kicking my legs, but he slaps them, forcing me to remain in place. His finger traces my folds and I close my eyes with shame.

“Mmm. I knew you’d be soaking wet, baby. Were you fantasizing about how I’d come through the window and deflower this tight little cunt?”

I shake my head, but I can hardly move it due to his brute strength. God, I can’t believe I’m being turned on by being ambushed.

By Killian.

The psycho Killian.

The monster Killian.

The predator Killian, who’ll eat me alive and scatter my bones in that firefly lake.

With the lack of light, his face is a huge shadow that’s able to devour me in mere seconds.

“You’re messing up my fingers and you still dare to lie to me?” His voice darkens, becoming one with the night. “Maybe you’ll stop the lies when I’m pounding this cunt. You won’t have the chance to lie when your blood is smeared all over my cock. You might be screaming, though, but guess what? No one will hear you.”

He positions himself between my legs and chuckles, the sound low and absolutely terrifying. “Look at you dripping onto the mattress at the promise of being deflowered like a dirty little whore instead of an innocent virgin. Deep down, you like this, don’t you? You want to be forced to lose control. That way, you’d be comforted by the fact that you didn’t agree to this. It’s your mind’s way of assuming you’re not the twisted one who actually fantasizes about this. It’s fine, though. I’ll be your villain, baby.”

My eyes widen. How the hell does he know about those fantasies? I didn’t even talk about them to my closest friends—not even my therapist.

“Mmm. You’re grinding against my fingers again. I like it when you’re horny for me.” His voice lowers. “But only me. No one will see this erotic version of you. Isn’t that right, baby?”

I freeze when I realize that I am in fact sliding up and down against his fingers, reaching for a forbidden type of friction.

No, no…

I seal my eyes shut and breathe heavily, internally chanting.

This is a nightmare, only a nightmare, breathe, inhale, exhale, don’t let it consume you…

The weight that’s been trapping me slowly disappears and the smell of wood and amber vanishes as well.

A murmur of voices follow, but I release a breath. It’s a nightmare. I’m fine.

It’s fine.

“Is she really asleep?” Bran’s voice.

I frown. He shouldn’t be in my nightmares.

“Yeah,” Cecily whispers back. “You know, she barely sleeps lately and keeps staring or dreaming awake or something. It was becoming really bad until…well, maybe a few days ago. She’s constantly looking over her shoulder, but she’s not zoned out.”

“I’ve been worried sick. You have no idea,” Ava says.

“Keep it down or she’ll wake up,” Cecily whisper-yells. “It’s already a miracle that she’s sleeping.”

“Are you hiding it from her?” Bran sounds a bit distant, a bit hard, not like the Bran I know.

“Yeah, rest assured, she won’t find that filth.”

Their voices drift into one another, mixing, becoming an echo, like a giant speaker from far away.

Trepidation trickles down my spine. What’s the filth Cecily mentioned?

And is this really a nightmare?





I can’t concentrate during class, in the studio, or even when I talk to Dr. Ferrell on the phone.

Somehow, I can’t figure out if that nightmare was real or not. Ava and Cecily said they went to sleep right after they kicked Remi and the others out, so maybe it wasn’t?