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

My hands are still metaphorically bound and I can’t move.

For a moment, I think I’m back in that dark room, dripping with blood, while a giant black spider hovers over me like a looming Grim Reaper.

I snatch my hand away, only to find that it’s in a fist and someone has grabbed it.

My brother.

Eli stands by the side of my bed, looking as regal as usual in his casual black trousers and white button-down. His hair is styled, his demeanor is sharp, and his face is caught in eternal boredom.

Soft light illuminates the room and casts a gloomy edge on his angular features.

He’s five years older than me. At twenty-five, he’s the oldest of all of us. The first child of godlike parents, and the first grandchild of even godlier grandparents.

Grandpa Jonathan—from Dad’s side—is constantly warring with Grandpa Ethan and Grandpa Agnus—from Mum’s side—about whose fortune Eli is going to manage once he finishes his PhD.

Eli slowly releases his grip on my fist that I nearly pummeled him with, casually drops it, and sits beside me. And just like that, his true nature dissipates with a bright smile.

After pulling his phone up to face him, he unmutes it. “Sorry about that, Mum. I think there’s a problem with the Wi-Fi. Remi’s probably downloading his stash of porn.”

From my view of the screen, I can see Mum holding a hand to her chest. “Stop it, Eli. You’re so bad.”

He winks. “The best type of bad you’ll ever meet. Also, look who I have here. A rare sight of your baby boy.”

A feminine gasp reaches me first before Eli tilts the phone so it’s facing us both.

Elsa Steel King is the epitome of an elegant woman. Nude-colored lips, shiny blonde hair gathered in a neat ponytail, and a face that’s both beautiful and wise.

“Creigh!” she cries with her hand still at her chest. “Oh my, have you been asleep?”

“Yes, and your insolent son woke me up.”

Eli elbows me. “I was only looking out for his sleeping schedule, Mum. This punk sleeps more hours than is considered healthy, suffers from serious Sleeping Beauty syndrome, aka narcolepsy, and is prone to skip class because of it.”

“Still have perfect scores.”

“Still sleep in class so often that my professors tell me about it. Don’t go tainting my reputation.”

“And you think you have a good one?”

“At least people actually know me.”

“And that’s positive because…”

“Boys!” Mum chuckles from the other end of the phone. “Have you called me to bicker? And leave your brother alone, Eli. As long as he studies, it’s all fine.”

I raise a brow in his direction.

Hear that, fucker?

“Stop spoiling him rotten, Mum. This is why you only FaceTime him once in a year or if your favorite son, aka me, plans a surprise and wakes him up from hibernation. Where’s my thank-you?”

“Outside.” I grab the phone from his hand and bring it closer so that I’m the only one in the frame. “Mum and I don’t need to speak every day to have a connection.”

“That’s right.” She smiles, her eyes sliding all over my face with veiled desperation. “I just miss you so much, Creigh.”

“Miss you, too, Mum.”

“What’s with all the sappiness? You’re acting like it’s been years since you last met, when the fact is, we visited home a month ago.” Eli snatches his phone back so that he’s front and center of the screen.

“I still miss you boys every day.” She releases a long sigh. “I miss the nights when I used to tuck you in bed and tell you stories.”

“We can recreate that, say on our next visit home. One condition, though.” Eli grins. “Kick Dad out first.”

“I’ll be kicking you outside the solar system, punk.” Dad strolls inside the room, appearing in the frame behind Mum.

The phone shakes in her hold as she slightly turns around to look at him. Her expression radiates and her features brighten with a rosy emotion.

Love.

A feeling Mum has been trying, and failing, to instill in both me and my brother for years.

My father sits on the armrest of Mum’s chair and wraps a possessive arm around her shoulder.

Aiden King is everything his last name exemplifies—a monarch with a ruthless iron grip, the media’s notorious devil, and the love of Mum’s life.

He’s tall, dark, handsome, and absolutely merciless with anyone who crosses him—or us.

Since we were kids, Dad has taught us to prevent others from stepping on us and unintentionally, or intentionally, made us as cutthroat as he is.

Eli inherited more than just his personality. He has his black hair, dark gray eyes, and similar facial features—a fact that Mum secretly loves but is openly jealous of, complaining that her eldest looks nothing like her.

“Hi, Dad.” Eli’s eyes shine with the promise of a challenge. He’s always been in some sort of weird rivalry with our father. “I called Mum so we could have her all to ourselves.”

“Not even if you’re reincarnated ten times in a row.”

Mum laughs, strokes Dad’s hand that’s on her shoulder, and looks at Eli. “Really, now. Stop antagonizing your father. You’re so bad.”