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

But I realized something.

It’s not only about sex with Glyndon. I have a feeling that I’ll still feel the need to own her long after she spreads her legs.

During my observational session, I checked that her invitation to the Heathens’ initiation was indeed sent from our servers.

No trace of hacking or underhanded methods.

Jeremy couldn’t care less about these details and leaves them to his security. Nikolai is more detached, unless there’s a fighter he wants to challenge.

The most likely culprit is none other than my brother. Who escorted Glyndon out like some fucking knight.

If I confront him about it, he’ll just deny it. So I’ll search for proof and hit him upside the head with it. Logically, he has no reason to get her involved—except to antagonize me.

The thing is, Gareth is a good boy and dislikes using people.

Then, there’s the whole arrow incident that I still can’t find an explanation for. Whoever tried to shoot me did it from an impossible angle where they couldn’t be caught on camera.

It’s someone who’s well aware of the workings of our internal systems.

Someone…close.

After a whole night of watching footage and obsessing over my phone like a teenager, I finally came down the stairs.

Once I kick away Nikolai’s fuck buddies, I continue on my way. I step on something black—someone—pause, then poke at it with my foot. Did a murder happen while I was sleeping—or trying to?

What type of blasphemy is that? I demand a redo.

I nudge the figure for a good minute before he rolls to his back with a groan, revealing none other than my deranged cousin.

His hands are still covered with dry blood—that will be a bitch to remove—and his face is stuck in a frown, like a whore dreaming about a boring fuck.

I kick him again. “There are beds around, you know.”

“Fuck off, you motherfucking fuck,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t sound sleepy, more like thoughtful. “Did I bother you sleeping on my own damn floor? Let me think in peace.”

I nudge him again, just to fuck with him. “Since when do you use the word think? Have you hit your head somewhere? Let me take you to the hospital for a quick scan, maybe see if you actually have a brain while we’re at it.”

He groans loudly and sits up with the lethargy of an immortal monster. He opens his bloodshot eyes that are surrounded by dark circles. Someone had a night. “Fuck off before I murder you and hug Aunt Reina at your funeral while she cries over her useless son.”

“What got your panties in a twist, Niko? Bad fuck night?”

“More like an absence of fucks night.”

“Really?” I tilt my head in the three passed-out druggies’ direction. “You literally have infinite options. What’s wrong? Erectile dysfunction?”

He snarls at me.

“Fuck. It is?”

“Fuck off, Satan’s heir. It’s called lack of interest.”

“It’s called impotence. Our poor Niko. Should I get you some blue pills? Don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret.”

Nikolai surges up and slides down his pants and boxers, revealing his very hard, very pierced dick. “Told you it’s lack of fucking interest. Now, fuck the fuck off before I stab you with it.”

“Highly not recommended, you’ll just break your stick of joy.” I throw a bored glance at his companions for the night. “None of them would do?”

He pulls up his pants, then taps the back of his pocket, retrieves a crumpled-up cigarette, and speaks around it as he tries to light it, but his Zippo won’t work. “They’re as enticing as STD-infested whores. None of them know how suck dick right.”

I pull my Zippo and light his cigarette, then get one of my own. “Then go to someone who does.”

He pauses with his cigarette dangling, then wraps an arm around my shoulder, virtually squeezing the fuck out of me. “You’re a motherfucking genius, Kill.”

“And you’re just figuring that out?”

He continues the mission of being a clingy fuck. “You’re right, I should just change scenery. Care for some shooting lessons? That instructor is good at getting on her knees.”

“Can’t. Busy.” I slip out of his octopus hold, then swiftly shove him away.

“Boo. I’ll go with my fave cousin, Gaz. You can kindly fuck off.”

I flip him off on my way out, then instead of lighting my cigarette, I throw it away.

Something tastes off about it.

After attending my first class, I take a mock test that my colleagues basically flip their shit about. With their dark circles and tiresome dramatics, one would think they’re not fit to be the elite of the elite.

If these bitches can’t calm themselves over some test, how are they supposed not to break down in the middle of the ER or a surgery?

So what if I didn’t study for the test myself? My genius neurons took care of half of it and the professor helped me with the other half when I went all charming on her.

Smarter not stronger. Or, God forbid, emotional.


What’s so great about emotions anyway? All my life, I’ve only seen them cause more harm than good. If people toned down on that poison a little, they wouldn’t need the drugs to battle it.

Once first period ends, I check my phone and ignore the countless meaningless notifications except for one.