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

My eyes snap open and a guttural noise echoes in the air. It’s my breathing, I realize, as I swallow the drool that’s gathered in my mouth.

I attempt to stand up, but a weight pins me in place.

Killian.

Or more like, his huge body.

I blink the sleep from my eyes at the feel of his bare skin on mine. I’m still on top of his chest, my softness draped over his hardness. I feel so small in his arms, but also…so protected.

I didn’t even think about his monster nature when I fell asleep cocooned by him after the bath.

What started as a cure to my soreness ended up with me fucked at the edge of the bathtub with my arse in the air and my fingers holding on to the wall for dear life. Literally.

Although I came twice, Killian took his sweet time, even more than the first time, and I honestly thought I would pass out from all the stimulation slashing through me.

When he finally finished, he kissed my forehead like some adoring lover and left me to soak in the water, half-dazed, sorer than the first time, but so utterly elated.

Then he left the bathroom and came back to help me rinse, then carried me to the bed whose sheets had been changed.

When I wanted to put on my clothes, he pushed my hand away. “Don’t. I want access to my pussy during the night.”

“Not unless you’re in the mood to drive me to the A&E in the morning.”

He merely chuckled, muttered, “Adorable,” then held me on top of him as if that was the most natural position in the world.

I’m the type who barely sleeps in unknown places. It’s a defense mechanism so that I can flee whenever possible.

So how could I sleep in the devil’s arms?

Though he’s a gorgeous devil with a body of steel. Even as he sleeps, I feel the hardness of his stomach and chest against my breasts and belly and his…dick between my legs. It’s definitely semi-hard and ready for more.

Does he ever get enough?

Actually, no. I don’t want to know the answer to that.

I lift my head to stare at his face. It’s almost as if he’s awake—the same eternal expression, the blankness in it, the hard edges of his features that belong to a model.

His attractive looks have always been a weapon in his games of destruction, so I tried to pay them no mind, but he’s so handsome. So cruelly beautiful. I could stare at him all day.

And I’m beginning to glamorize the bastard.

Which is dangerous.

Reaching behind me, I pull on his hand that’s spread across my back and slowly let it drop to the mattress.

I wait for a second, holding my breath, in case he moves.

When he doesn’t, I plant my palms on either side of his face and lift myself up. His dick slides from between my thighs and a low grunt leaves his lips.

I freeze, expecting to be pinned down by his lethal eyes and massive weight, but he remains in place.

Phew.

God, I could kill him right now. Maybe suffocate him while he sleeps and rid the world of his brand of evil.

But even as I entertain the thought, it’s just not who I am.

With huge discomfort and bursts of pain, I finally manage to stumble out of the bed. It takes me a few tries with lots of panting and internal cursing to put on my clothes—without underwear because I can’t find it.

It’s probably ruined anyway.

After fetching my phone from the floor, I wince at the dozen texts from my friends, then slip it in my bra and pause when I realize I smell like him. Woodsy like his shower gel that he lathered me with, but I also smell of sex.

That I’m beginning to only associate with him.

I cast one last glance at the room.

It’s as clinical as Killian. So impersonal that it could be anyone else’s bedroom if not for the medical books on the shelves.

I step backward, keeping my sights on him. There’s no way I’ll give him my back after earlier.

It cost me my virginity.

Not that I ever considered it anything special. I’d really never found anyone I wanted to give it up to, even if that made me the outcast at my previous school and with my friends.

Not to mention that any boyfriends I had in school were personally vetted by Landon, and something tells me he threatened them with murder if they touched me.

It bothered me a little, but not enough for me to throw a tantrum.

Truth is, I was too apathetic, and as much as I hate to admit it, I never wanted anyone with the same fire that I feel for Killian.

But I’m starting to learn he’s not only after my virginity as I initially thought.

Killian will keep escalating, like war—he’ll want more and more until I’m completely spent.

Until I have nothing left to give.

He’s that type of intensity. The storm you only feel when it’s wrecking you from the inside.

Literally and figuratively.

So I have to try and stay away and put up defenses. It’ll drain me and I’ll probably hate myself for it, too, but that’s okay.

I can do this.

Slowly, I open the door and step outside barefoot while holding my flats in hand.

Once I’m a safe distance away, I put them on and head to where I remember the stairs to be.

I pass several rooms—definitely a lot more than four people need. This mansion could easily house an army.

Or maybe ghosts.

The gothic quality with its baroque wallpaper, somber furniture, and ancient-looking candelabras definitely give it the right atmosphere for underworld meetings.