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

Messing her up a little.

Sometimes, she’s so perfect it pisses me the fuck off.

Because while Gareth’s words mean shit to me, he’s right about the shell part. She has a core. I don’t.

The fact that our differences will always be a wall between us fills me with more rage.

She leans on her hands that are on my chest and lifts her head to stare down at me with a furrowed brow. “The beginning, not the end? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Beats me,” I say absentmindedly, watching the path my fingers make through her brown-blonde hair and down her throat. My senses are currently obsessed with the booming pulse point that nearly pops out of her greenish vein.

I wonder how it looks on the inside, in the middle of all the blood. What else could I find?

But that would mean I’d have to open her up for it, like all those postmortem patients, and the idea sends a queasy feeling to my stomach.

If I do see inside her, I’ll lose her voice, her warmth, her temper, and even her irritating fight. Everything.

I don’t want her dead.

Fuck.

I actually don’t want her dead and I’m ready to fight my demons so they’ll abandon the urge to see inside her.

“You wanted my virginity and you got it. What else do you want?” Her spooked voice makes me fucking hard, and that’s an inconvenience, considering my attempts to take it easy on her.

“I never said I only wanted your virginity. That’s your own assumption and I hold no responsibility for it. Besides, now that the hymen is out of the way, I can fuck you whenever and however I please without having to deal with your overdramatic side.”

She releases a shaky breath. “How long do I have to open my legs for you to get enough?”

“Still haven’t decided yet, and stop acting like you don’t enjoy this when your taste is still on my tongue and your screams of pleasure are echoing in my ears. I might look calm, but your attitude is grating on my last fucking nerve.”

Her glare remains in place, and I know it’s taking her some effort, because she’s shaking against me, obviously scared, but still refuses to back the fuck down. “Look at that. Now you know how I feel all the time.”

“Your sarcasm game has upgraded.”

“Learned from the best.” Probably figuring out that she has no way to go, she relaxes and lays her head on her hands. “Is this your room?”

I make an affirmative sound and she does a long sweep of the all black and white furniture, curtains, and desk. The only break of color is a red toy car I’ve had since I was a kid.

“It’s…impersonal,” she whispers.

“Personal is overrated.”

“Can you not be all pragmatic for a second?”

“How else will I have you flushing like a virgin? Oh, sorry, you’re no longer one.”

“Very funny.”

I grin, locking a blonde strand between my fingers. “I live to entertain.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “You look so pleased with yourself.”

“That’s because I am.” I rub my semi-hard erection against her stomach. “Have you rested enough for another round?”

“Please don’t. I’m so sore I can barely breathe without feeling discomfort.”

“You mean feeling my cock inside you.” I smile when she blushes again and I grab her ass cheek in one palm, making her moan.

“What are you doing?”

“Relax. I’m not going to fuck you.”

She eyes me suspiciously. “You really won’t?”

“Not if you’re in so much pain. After all, you said please.” I stroke the skin of her ass, then slide my palm up to her hips until I feel her relax against me.

But she keeps watching me with a distrustful edge.

“What?”

“I just can’t believe you’d actually be stopped by a please. If I’d known, I would’ve begged more earlier.”

“That wouldn’t have stopped me. If I decide to fuck my pussy, no one, you included, will be able to stop me.”

“You’re telling me you don’t want to fuck me now?”

“I do, but I also don’t want to hurt you.”

“You did that night at the cliff.” Her voice is soft.

“I know you’re not ready to admit it, but I felt something from you or I wouldn’t have continued.”

“Something like what?”

“Your desire.”

“No way would I have felt desire for you under those circumstances. You’re just making excuses.”

“No, I’m just telling you my side of the story.”

“So you’re not even sorry?”

“You know I don’t feel that. And I will not apologize for something we both enjoyed.”

“I did not enjoy it.” Her shoulders shake with how much she’s trying to suppress her nature.

I want to push her more, to make her admit to her true self, but what the fuck will I do if she starts crying?

Her tears, outside of sex, do shit to me. The bad type of shit.

When I remain silent, she wiggles in my hold, and to my surprise, it’s not to pull away but more to find a better position. “Also, you didn’t use a condom just now.”

“So? I know you’re on birth control.”