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

And no, I’m not going to think about how many women have experienced what I did. That what I consider an awakening of sorts is a normal occurrence for him.

I’m simply not going there.

Annika: I thought the whole purpose of punishment was me feeling pain.

Creighton: It is. But I don’t want it to bruise. Not for long, at least. That way, I can mark it again.

Annika: That started swoony and turned creepy real fast. Oh, and by the way, I’m better. Still sore as hell, but I’ll survive. Thanks for asking.

Creighton: Watch it.

Annika: So I’m just supposed to take it and shut up?

Creighton: Preferably.

Annika: Well, that’s not me.

Creighton: Don’t I know it.

Annika: And you’re okay with it?

Creighton: I’m not.

My chest aches again, that familiar pain becoming more potent than the one on my ass.

Annika: But you still insist on pursuing me.

Creighton: I wouldn’t call it pursuing.

Annika: Then what is it?

Creighton: I’m punishing you, little purple, and I’m getting off on every moment of putting my mark on your translucent skin.

I rub my foot again on my leg. Somehow, the throbbing between my legs has gotten worse and my ass feels like it’s on fire.

He’s a true sadist, isn’t he?

Then why am I not more scared? Hell, the least I can do is stop being intrigued.

Creighton: Is that smart mouth of yours finally speechless?

Annika: Not in this lifetime. I was just thinking.

Creighton: About?

Annika: One: Why do you call me little purple?

Creighton: Aren’t you obsessed with that color?

Annika: But you aren’t.

Creighton: In my mind, you are the personification of that color.

I try not to blush, but considering the heat in my cheeks, I’ve definitely failed.

Creighton: That’s one. What’s two?

Annika: When did you start having these…singular tastes?

Creighton: Since I hit puberty.

Annika: So you’ve been experimenting since?

Though I wouldn’t call his lashes experimental. He knew exactly what he was doing. Despite the pain from his handprints, they’re not meant to leave a permanent mark.

Which means he’s done this countless times before.

To a dozen other girls. Maybe more.

Nope, no. I’m simply not going there.

Creighton: Not experimenting, engaging.

Annika: With girlfriends?

Creighton: With sex partners.

Annika: As in, whores?

Annika: Sorry, I mean sex workers?

Creighton: No. Willing submissives.

My fist tightens at the thought of how many submissives have gotten on their knees, taken his beatings, and thanked him for it later.

Hell, if the fangirls at the shelter knew he was this kinky, they’d be like ‘Choke me, Daddy.’

Annika: And are you still seeing these willing submissives?

Creighton: Why are you asking?

Annika: I don’t want to compete with girls who are already into your stuff.

Creighton: Stuff?

Annika: You know. At any rate, they need to go.

Creighton: Will you take their place as my plaything?

Annika: Aren’t I already?

Creighton: What happened today was a mere demonstration, a little taste of what I’m capable of. It’s by no means the entirety of my ‘singular tastes.’ You think you can handle me? Think again.

Well, shit.

If that was only a taste, then what else does he plan to do to me?

This is probably that moment where I should backpedal and abort whatever twisted feelings I have for the sadist.

One small problem, though.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how painful it will be to sit at all, there’s something else. I’ve never felt as empowered and free as in the moment when he held me down and ‘punished’ me.

When he threw me against those shelves and dominated me, I never thought to fight or escape his savage hold.

For some reason, it felt…right.

And my toxic trait is definitely curiosity because I type.

Annika: I’ll never know until I try. And don’t be a hypocrite. You don’t get to tell me not to take Bran as a fake boyfriend, then go and have other people. If you’re going to unleash your inner sadist, unleash it on me.

His next text steals my air and leaves me gasping.

Creighton: You’ve fucked up again. I’ve given you an opening to try and run away, but you went ahead and refused to take it. Don’t blame me for what’ll happen next. You’re now mine to punish and discipline, little purple.





10





CREIGHTON





A red hand tugs on my small fingers and I’m sent flying into a pool of blood.

My vision reddens, then gradually blackens as my limbs soak in the hot crimson liquid.

A low, haunting moan of pain saturates my ears and clashes against my bones.

I’m frozen, bound, helpless, and trapped in the middle of an intricate web.

Her web. The spider.

Soft hands grab hold of my face, but she’s only a blurry shadow due to all the red.

She squeezes my fingers with brute force and I scream, but the only sound that echoes in the air is an unintelligible muffle.

“Shh, Creigh. It’ll all end soon.”

I jerk awake, my heartbeat hammering in my ears.