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

My shoes hit a rock and I yelp as I trip, but he grabs my elbow, keeping me upright.

“Stop acting like you don’t want it, Glyn. All the dramatics are starting to get on my last nerve.”

“Please,” I whisper.

“Begging holds the importance of a fly to me.”

“Then what is important to you?”

“Right now? You and your virgin cunt.”

I want to scream, both from frustration and anger, at my reaction to his words. How can I want someone I hate? Someone who, without any sliver of doubt, fucking scares me?

And deep down, I know he just won’t stop until he takes my virginity. It’s a conquest, and he’s a true predator.

One with no limits.

Taking a deep breath, I choose another approach. “What if I told you that I need more time?”

“Hmm.” His finger taps on the side of my elbow. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re stalling so you can get more time to find a solution to get rid of me, but I’m telling you right now, it’s not going to work.”

“I just…want more time, please.”

His eyes flash with annoyance, probably too used to getting what he wants only to be told no, and I’m almost sure he’ll bend me over and fuck me anyway, but he releases my elbow. “Since you asked nicely, fine.”

“Really?”

“Do you want me to change my mind?”

“No.” I smile. “Thanks.”

“See? I can be nice.”

I snort, then puff out a breath and whisper, “Nice, my arse.”

“I heard that.”

I grin in an attempt to shoo the situation away. “Why do you do all of this?”

“All of this?”

“Being part of the Heathens, hunting down people. All of this.”

“Why are you asking?”

Despite my attempts for it not to, my body relaxes. “You keep pursuing me, but I know nothing about you aside from your being in the Heathens and a med student.”

A gleam of light flashes in his eyes. “Have you been asking about me, baby?”

“Didn’t have to. Annika doesn’t stop talking once she has a topic of discussion.”

“But you listened.” His gloating tone pisses me off.

“So?”

“I thought you weren’t interested.”

I’m obviously drawn to him in ways I can’t understand, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I admit that.

“Or maybe you’re just not interested in admitting it out loud.” His stance turns nonchalant as he seems to enjoy himself.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“Concerning?”

“Aren’t med students supposed to protect their hands? Yet you fight and hunt and do all types of fuckeries that could get you hurt.”

He lifts his hands and studies them under the gloomy light as if it’s the first time he’s seen them. “The world is painted in different colors, depending on the angle you see it from. Every single ideal can be turned monstrous when it’s pushed to the limits. I’m the limits. I’m the edges humans are warned to stay away from but are attracted to anyway, because it’s just so different from what they know. And because I’m permanently on the edge, I need constant stimuli to remain functioning. Fighting, hunting, and being a doctor-in-the-making are those stimuli.”

So that’s his obsession. His way of driving away the emptiness is through unconventional methods. I understand why he has to do this, though I don’t agree with it.

His view of the world is fascinating, and if I didn’t want to escape him, I could listen to him talk about it all day.

“Why medicine, then? Its codes imply that you should save people.”

“And I do, after I see inside them.” His lips curve in a cruel smirk. “Look at your face becoming all horrified. Do I scare you, baby?”

“No.” I lift my chin. “I’m a King. We aren’t born to be scared of people.”

“Hmm. I like the whole family slogan thing. Are you close with them? Your family, I mean?”

“So what if I am?”

“Do they know you were thinking about throwing yourself off that cliff?”

I startle, my whole body going rigid. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That night, you had this dead look in your eyes, like someone who was tired—not bored, just fucking exhausted.” He steps toward me and I retreat, matching his steps. “Did you think about how it’d feel at the bottom of that ocean with your head cracked against the rocks? How you’d be asphyxiated by the water for minutes on end? Death by drowning is the most difficult. You open your mouth, bubbles will float, but water is the only thing you’ll get into your lungs. You think you want to die, but the more you breathe in water and choke on it, the more you’ll regret it. So tell me, Glyndon, did you imagine that everything would be over if you just…let go?”

He’s…really a psycho, isn’t he?

There’s no way a normal person would talk so casually about such a topic, and with great detail, no less.

I slap both hands against his chest. “Stop it.”

“You’re trembling, baby. Did I hit a nerve?”