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

He reaches a gloved hand to my face and I think he’ll shut me up again, but his fingers wrap around my jaw.

It’s not threatening, but power simmers beneath the gesture.

No, not power.

Control.

He oozes with it to the point of suffocation.

His thumb strokes my bottom lip and it parts, just like that.

My heart hammers, and I think maybe I’m dreaming or something.

Maybe I’ve conjured so many scenarios in my twisted brain that one of them is actually coming true.

Otherwise, why would he touch me when he never has before?

And he’s not just touching any part of me. It’s my lips.

Is he going to kiss me?

Before the thought is fully formed, his rich, deep, and absolutely familiar voice rings in the air.

“You talk too much. One day, this mouth will get you in trouble.”

Then he releases me, steps back, and slips out the balcony door as easily as he got in.

My limbs finally fail me and I slide down the wall and to the floor.

There’s no doubt about it.

My fingers touch where he did a second ago. Well, he had a glove on, so it wasn’t a direct touch, but it still counts, right?

Only, now, my lips quiver and my heart falls in disarray.

It is him.

The one I shouldn’t want.





2





ANNIKA





“Are you sure no one came in here?”

Am I sure this is, in fact, an alternative reality and I will soon wake up? Am I surprised no one sees my trembling insides?

Sure thing.

I’m totally certain something is wrong with me, because I plaster on my brightest smile as I face my brother.

Jeremy, who’s barged into my room and is now towering over me, is tall, muscular, a bit bulky, and is the perfect clone of our father. Like, seriously, Papa gets an A+ for the copy-and-paste efforts.

He’s also six years older than me, so I’m like a baby at only seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in about a month and a half, so mentally, I’m already at that age.

Besides, due to my stellar academics, I got to skip a grade and attend college at this age. A fact my brother isn’t fond of.

He’s always been like a lethal tiger who stands guard in front of my door. I was only able to breathe when he left the States for college a few years before me.

Well, able to breathe is an exaggeration, because I was still under Papa’s even more suffocating attention and protection.

That’s why I worked hard to get into college. But naturally, I could only apply to where Jeremy is. That, or I had to stay in New York.

My brain voted my brother as the lesser of two evils.

I came to Brighton Island at the start of this semester. It’s an island near the south coast of the United Kingdom. Ever since I reunited with my brother, that subtle feeling of suffocation, of being watched and monitored every second has returned.

I pull my sweater over my shirt, because, heck no, I’m not going to stroll around in my short-as-sin shirt in front of my brother.

That didn’t seem like a problem earlier.

I hush that tiny little voice and throw up a dismissive hand. “I was totally deep asleep until that guard woke me up. Can’t a girl have her beauty sleep around here?”

Nailed that.

Seriously.

If it were anyone else, they’d leave me be, but this is Jer. President of the Heathens, dubbed a devil, and the heir to Papa’s mafia empire.

People at home are waiting for him to finish his master’s degree and go back to his awaiting position in the heart of the New York Bratva.

This whole college experience is just a stepping stone for him, a way to soak in as much power as possible before going back to where he belongs.

His hawk-like gaze flits all over my room, stopping now and again as if he can see traces of him.

As if he can smell the leather from his gloves and feel the warmth emanating off his body.

My lips tremble at the reminder of how the intruder touched them, and my ears ring. The good type of ring. The type where I can still hear his voice in my head.

His words.

My Tchaikovsky—that’s my god, by the way, because he’s the root of my spirituality.

Get it together, me.

“You haven’t heard any commotion?” Jer pushes with the persistence of a hound that’s sniffing for prey.

“Aside from the guard’s loud voice, not really. What’s going on? He said there was a breach?”

“Yes. There was an attempted arson in the annexed house.”

“A-arson?”

Holy shit on a stick. I knew that the smell of soot had something to do with a fire. Does that mean he was the one behind it?

Instead of asking that and flaring Jer’s suspicious radar, I go with, “Is everyone okay?”

The fact remains, this mansion is the compound of the Heathens, and the founding members of the club, who are my brother’s friends, use it as a home. Not to mention the live-in guards and some staff.

I’m preoccupied with the intrusion, but not enough to forget about other people. Even if they rival my brother’s savageness.

“No one was hurt and we put out the fire before it ate up the annex,” Jeremy offers.

“Phew! So glad there were no casualties.” For more reasons than one. “Do you know who did it?”

“Not yet, but I will find them.” He steps forward. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You don’t need anything?”