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

He kisses the top of my head. “That’s because I know how to fight.”

“Can we go?” I start to step away from him and he surprisingly lets me go.

I quicken my steps down the path and he catches up to me, mask around his neck. He picks the bat up from the ground and swings it onto his shoulder.

My heart tightens when I make out the smudges of blood on the wood.

“Do you know if the people you hurt are okay?”

“They should be.”

“Does that mean they could not be?”

“Probably.”

“And…you’re not going to do anything to make sure?”

“Why should I? Jeremy and Nikolai’s guards will take care of it.”

“You…really wouldn’t care if you hurt someone fatally?”

“Again, why? They willingly signed up for this.”

“What if it was me you sent flying with your bat?”

“I didn’t.”

“What if you had?”

He tilts his head to the side, a sudden dullness making his eyes muted. “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

The thought of holding absolutely no meaning to him makes my blood turn cold, but at the same time, it’s better if I don’t, right? I’ll just hate him more and I definitely need to deepen those feelings.

So I nod.

“I wouldn’t have hit you in the first place, because I would have recognized you.”

“What if you did accidentally? In the middle of your violence spree?”

“Using violence doesn’t mean losing my head, so I still would’ve recognized you.”

“What if one of your other friends had hit me?”

“I would’ve put my med student status to use and nursed you back to health. It might have turned kinky like some cheap porn’s plot right afterward, though.”

“Does everything has to revolve around sex with you?”

“Hmm. Good question.” He tilts his head in my direction. “I think that’s only the case when it comes to you.”

“Because you want my virginity?”

“There’s that, but it’s not the sole reason.”

“What is then?”

“You’re not ready for it yet.”

His tone suggests that he’s done with this topic and will probably ignore any further questions.

But I need to keep him talking.

We’re getting so close to the finish line and I still have a chance to win this.

“Are you not going to hunt anymore?” I ask.

“You distracted me. How are you going to take the responsibility for my losing?”

“I didn’t ask you to leave everyone else and follow me.”

“I couldn’t just let a stray little rabbit roam free. Besides, the urge is gone.”

“Urge?”

“The one I need to satiate with some form of stimuli. Usually, I’d be all in for the hunt, but today…you were surprisingly enough. Is that interesting or what?”

No, it’s downright horrifying. I don’t want to be his fixation or the catalyst to his madness.

I just don’t.

My fingers shake and I rub a palm on the side of my shorts.

“What did I say about that habit?”

My movement comes to a halt and I let my hands fall to my sides. Night has fallen and the dark stakes its claim, casting a nefarious energy over the forest. Under different circumstances, this would be a dreamy date.

With Killian, however, it feels like an episode of Hannibal. There’s always a fifty percent chance he’ll jump me and snuff out my life.

“Has anyone told you that you’re a tyrant?”

“You’re the first.”

“Guess they don’t see this side of you, then.”

“This side?”

“The controlling, oppressive side.”

“They do. It’s just more subtle with them. I don’t need to make that effort with you.”

“Because I’m easy prey?”

“Because you’re already acquainted with my type. It’d be a waste of resources and energy to try and fool you.”

The meaning behind his words hits me. He doesn’t have to hide in my presence.

I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. Being special to a borderline psychopath is about the worst position I could be in.

Yet, my chest swells at the thought that he has no need to hide in front of me.

I can trust that I’ll always see his uncut version. No matter how twisted or barren, it’ll always be true.

Even when he had the neon red mask on, he remained out in the open, not once attempting to hide.

“Should I celebrate the fact that I’m the only one you don’t feel the need to fool?”

“As long as your celebration ends with me between your legs, by all means.”

“Bloody prick.”

“Didn’t I say your cursing turns me on? Might want to tone down that a little unless you’re in the mood for round two of sucking my cock.”

“Is there anything that doesn’t turn you on?”

“You lying and coming up with psychological garbage to deny what we have definitely doesn’t. In fact, it pisses me the fuck off.”

A gust of wind causes the hairs on my nape to stand on end. This dark version of him makes me apprehensive to a point I’ve never felt before.