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

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, Glyndon. You tell me. After all, you’re the one who followed me in my own house.”

The crazy idea I’ve been entertaining since this afternoon slowly manifests and I swallow. “How about a trade?”

“What type of trade?”

“You…dislike Killian—or more like his guts and constant need to make your life hell. I can help you with keeping him off your case.”

He raises a brow. “And how do you intend to do that?”

“By keeping him occupied.”

He bursts out laughing, the sound echoing around us like a haunted chant. “Either you’re being funny or you have no fucking clue who you’re dealing with.”

“I actually do. I’ve been constantly tormented by him since the first time we met.”

Gareth’s expression hardens. “And you think that means something in the great scheme of things? How long have you known him? A week? A month? That has no value or credibility.”

“He’s obsessed with me or something about me, and as long as he has that fixation, then I have power over him.” I push up my chest. “You can discredit me all day, but you and I both know that Killian isn’t the type who gives up on things halfway in.”

A slight narrow of his eyes is the only change in Gareth’s demeanor, but I know I’ve chinked his armor when he asks, “And what do you want in return?”

“I’ll get straight to the point.”

“By all means.”

“I’m investigating my friend’s death, and I was told that he was part of the Heathens’ first initiation for this year. You’re one of the leaders and surely have access to records, camera footage, and stuff like that?”

“What if I do?”

“If you provide me with those, I’ll be your ally against Killian.”

“How do I know you won’t turn against me? In fact, how do I know this isn’t another one of Killer’s sick games?”

“I would never use my friend’s life as a game.” I fumble for my phone and scroll to one of the last pictures I have with Devlin. A selfie in the car. I’m smiling. He’s not. Then I show it to Gareth. “Surely you remember him.”

He pauses, lips thinning in a line. “Devlin.”

“Yes.” I breathe. “He died after the initiation.”

“Didn’t the police rule it as a suicide?”

“Yes, but…”

“You don’t believe it.”

I slowly shake my head. “Like you, I don’t believe in the existence of too many coincidences.”

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ll help you in gathering whatever we have on the night prior to his death.”

“Thank you. I’ll be forever grateful.”

“Your gratitude has no value to me. In return, you’ll be my weapon against Killer.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a weapon…”

“Believe me.” A slight smirk curves his lips. “You are.”

That’s totally not true, but I let it go when I notice the men—probably guards—slowly retreating to the shadows.

“How well did you know your friend?” Gareth asks out of nowhere.

“I knew him better than anyone.”

“Did he ever mention us?”

“No…not really.” Just in passing conversation and gossip like everyone on campus would glorify, glamorize, worship at the feet of The King’s U’s exclusive clubs.

“Then I doubt you knew him at all,” Gareth says.

“Can you stop speaking in riddles?”

“Let’s just say Devlin was a lot more than you think. I knew him personally and I don’t know many people personally.”

“That’s impossible. He was shy and introverted.”

“That’s not true. But he was a fucking genius, I’ll give him that.” Gareth stares to the side, then smiles. “Now, for your end of the bargain.”

He slides into my space before I can blink. His fingers lift my chin and my eyes widen as he lowers his head.

The moment his lips touch mine, he’s wrenched off me in a flash.

I stare in complete disbelief as Killian sends his brother flying against the wall.





21





GLYNDON





The scene unfolds in slow motion.

One moment, Gareth is standing in front of me, and the next, he’s being thrown against the wall with Killian in tow.

Raw power simmers from him like a deadly volcano. The type that’s been dormant for centuries and decided to erupt in a fraction of a second.

I’ve seen Killian as a soulless devil, a ruthless monster, and an erotic god, but this is the first time I’ve seen him this angry.

And the most terrifying part is that his expression remains nonchalant, blank even. Despite the solid exterior, one thing gives away the state of his rage—his dead eyes.

They’re not blue anymore, but more black, almost the same color as his narrow pupils. Mum once told me that some people give a ‘back off’ look and it should never be ignored.

This is worse than back off. This is nothing short of a declaration of war and a thirst to spill blood.