God of Wrath (Legacy of Gods #3) by Rina Kent

And yes, maybe I took over his task most of the time and did a marvelous job at covering my tracks, so she didn’t realize I was basically breathing down her neck.

But the fact remains, I did think I could let her go. Not permanently. Temporarily.

Until the demons disappeared and I was more in control of myself around her. I thought that if I kept my distance, didn’t touch her, and wasn’t so caught up in her pussy and body and her face when she sleeps, I would have more balance.

I’d be in control again.

Every single one of those thoughts scattered in the air the moment Mia texted me about her findings.

I was carefully planning how to make Cecily tell me where my sister is, but when I heard Landon was in the picture, I lost all that strategic thinking.

When I saw him grabbing her cheek, the same cheek that should only belong to me, and lowering his head to kiss her, malicious intent grabbed hold of me. I had this urge to slice his throat and bathe in his blood right in front of her so she’d be reminded that no other fucker is allowed to touch her.

Looks like I gave her too much space, and she’s starting to get ideas in her head. Now, it’s my mission to erase those ideas.

I stop in front of the cottage and Cecily hastily hops off the bike. She’s tried to fight at the beginning, but as soon as I revved the engine and drove down the road, she held on to me as if her life depended on it.

And it did.

I might have driven faster than usual. One, it’s imperative to get here as soon as possible. Two, I needed more of the warmth that radiated off her body when she was glued to me.

It’s been a long time since I last touched her, had her softness molded all around me, and smelled the water lilies on her skin.

I was a grouchy, unapproachable fucker for the past month, and even I could tell the reason was thoroughly due to her absence from my life.

Though I do stalk her, as she likes to call it, that’s not enough.

Nothing is enough when it comes to Cecily fucking Knight.

She studies her surroundings, the vast lawns, and the pitch-black night as if it’s the first time she’s been here.

Her skin has turned pale and her lips are slightly parted, accentuating the subtle teardrop in the upper one.

She crosses her arms, subconsciously pushing her round perky tits forward. And it’s a cruel reminder that I haven’t grabbed on, sucked, or marked those tits in a very long time.

Just like my life, this place has been hollow without her. So much so that I’ve only dropped by twice. The memory of her within the cottage’s walls and all over the property haunted the fuck out of me.

After Cecily carefully inspects her surroundings, her eyes meet mine. Under the night sky, they’re dark yet glittery. While they appear to be full of life, the fact is, like their owner, they’re fighting to stay afloat. “Why are we here?”

I revel in the sound of her voice, in the gentle undertone that matches the breeze enveloping us. I try not to be affected by that, her presence, or the fact that she looks no different from a meal waiting to be devoured.

But my cock has other ideas.

He’s developed singular tastes and has metaphorically tattooed her name all over his limited consciousness.

He’s been twitching, stirring, demanding to be inside her since I touched her earlier at the shelter.

Cecily watches me carefully, like injured prey caught in a trap.

She realizes that her only way out is through the hunter—me. Only, I have no mercy to offer, and I certainly haven’t brought her here just to let her leave.

I advance toward her, and she takes two steps back. She stumbles on the stairs leading to the patio, but then she grabs the railings and continues her climb up.

“Jeremy…don’t…”

“Don’t what?” I continue the cat-and-mouse game, enjoying the show of her futile attempts to escape. “And are you sure you want to speak breathily like that? Sounded like an invitation.”

Her steps quicken, but she doesn’t turn around and run, no. She knows better than to turn her back to me, because there will be no stopping me. That would be the actual invitation.

But I don’t want to play a game right now. I have something more pressing in mind.

Cecily gasps when she crashes against the door. Her fingers latch onto the knob, frantically trying to turn it. The moment she does, I pounce on her.

My arm wraps around her waist, effectively binding her to me. As usual, she takes that as an opportunity to fight me. Her petite form thrashes against my larger one, hitting, slapping, scratching, clawing.

I still manage to carry her inside and to the sofa. Her face, neck, and ears have turned a deep shade of red.

“Let me go!” There’s desperation in her voice, and it’s not only due to our usual play. “Leave me alone, Jeremy.”

“No.”

It’s one word, a single word, but it’s enough to relay my decision concerning her.

There’s no way I’ll ever let Cecily go. No matter what she does, no matter what my demons say. No matter how the fuck it goes from then on.

I’ll simply abduct her, keep her, and make her a part of me so that she’s unable to leave.

Shiny moisture lines her eyes as she pushes at my arm. “Please, Jeremy. Just let me be.”

“Save the begging for something more lucrative, because this,” I tighten my hold around her waist, “will never change. You are mine, Cecily. Start acting like it.”