God of Pain (Legacy of Gods #2) by Rina Kent

His slightly stubbled chin rubs against my cheek as he whispers in dark words, “I said, sit down and eat.”

“If I do, will you tell me your handle?” I don’t recognize the thickness in my voice.

“That’s not important anymore, considering we’re not leaving.”

“Or that’s what you think.”

His eyes, those gorgeous eyes that I’m sure once belonged to a fallen angel, turn to slits. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Annika.” I feel the vibration of his warning before I hear it and help me, Tchaikovsky, his authoritative voice is such a turn-on.

“I’m just saying.” I shrug and grab a fry.

I’m going to convince him to let go of his grudge, even if it’s the last thing I do.

And if I fail, then let it be the last thing I do.

“You have until the count of three to tell me or so help me God…”

I jump up from his lap and dart in the direction of the house. Adrenaline pumps in my veins at the thought of playing a cat and mouse game.

“Catch me first.”

Creighton’s eyes fill with unhinged animalistic power. The type of power that made me fall for him in the first place.

That’s my Creighton.

The only Creighton that should be allowed to reign.

The other one who’s bent on destroying us both is an asshole and I need to figure out a way to defeat him.

“Sure you want to play a hunting game, little purple? I always win.”

“And I never lose.”

Despite my confident tone, the moment he strides in my direction with that dark expression, thrilling fear courses through my veins.

I squeal, then turn around and run.





37





ANNIKA





My spine jerks upright at the sound of each of his strides.

They're slow, and measured, but they catch up to me in no time.

I’m not even one step inside the living room when I’m jerked off the floor, by my waist.

Hot breaths tickle my ear when he whispers, “You’re fucked, little purple.”

Red lava courses through my body and I fight with everything in me. I wiggle, trying to escape his steel arms.

While simultaneously wanting to fall into them.

“The more you push me, the harder I punish you.” He throws me against the sofa. “Strip.”

My breathing shatters and fogs against the leather of the sofa, but I stare at him over my shoulder. At his larger-than-life physique, at the ruthless virility behind it.

He’s the man of my dreams and there will never be a day where I’m not attracted to him.

He lifts his T-shirt over his head, and I take in the veiny hands with long fingers and soak in the view of his rippled muscles and godlike physique.

A tinge of pain flashes through me at the sight of his bullet wound, a wound I gave him that neither of us will forget for the rest of our lives.

Me, because hurting him was worse than hurting myself.

Him, because the wound will remind him of how much he wants vengeance.

“If I have to repeat myself another time, things won’t end well for you.”

I turn around, propped up on my elbows, and meet his darkened gaze. I must be selfish, because all I want is to get lost in this moment. “Make me.”

A low grunt slips from his mouth before he’s on me. His fingers latch onto my throat and he uses it to haul me up, nearly lifting me in the air.

His hold isn’t threatening, but it’s controlling, and I have no choice but to look at him and drown in those eyes I thought I’d lost.

“As I said. Strip,” he repeats again. “And that’s ten.”

My lips part. “You want me to strip in this position?”

“You don’t want it to become twenty, now do you?”

My shaky fingers undo the zipper of my dress and I push the straps away until the piece of clothing hits the carpet.

Creighton’s gaze falls to my lace bra and panties and he grunts. “Fucking purple.”

I love how much I affect him.

The way he looks at me like he’ll never look at anyone the same way.

The way he wants me with abundance and refuses to see anything past it.

“All of it, Annika.”

It takes me several moments to unhook my bra, partly because of my unsteady hands and partly because of his hungry gaze.

When I take more time than needed to pull off my panties, he bunches the material in his fist.

“No, not Simone!”

A muscle clenches in his jaw but he pauses. “Who the fuck is Simone?”

“Simone Pérèle. The lingerie brand. Don’t rip it.” I push his hand away and try to finish the task.

The brute all but tears it to pieces.

“Creighton!”

“I’ll buy you another one.” His gaze darkens as he does a long sweep of my nakedness.

It’s crazy how my body comes alive under his attention. How everything just…falls into place.

He doesn’t need to touch me to provoke this feeling of irreversible belonging.

I was his even when I thought we were over.

I was his when I was trying to move on.

I’ll always be his.

Just like he’ll always be mine.

His free hand strokes my tight nipples, making me moan, then he pinches one with sensual brutality. His palm slides down, over the red fading lashes he left on my stomach. I hiss when he presses on them and then he moves to the handprints on my ass and cups me with it.