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

And yet, those are the exact thoughts I’ve been having about this woman.

“That was…just a figurative question.” She stares at Ilya, who’s following close behind. “Does he take everything so literally?”

My guard nods. “When it comes to you, I’m afraid yes.”

“We need to fix that about him.”

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here.” I grab her chin and rotate her attention back to me. “Do not speak to Ilya when you can ask me.”

“Oh, please. You need help.”

My fingers flex on her throat and she shivers, going slightly up on her tiptoes, which is usually an invitation for me to fuck her brains out.

“Behave.” I groan deep in my throat, then I take her hand in mine again, because if I don’t stop touching her throat, I’ll be tempted to throw away whatever I’m trying to do and eat her out for dinner.

We’re not two steps in when she stops again. “I was only wondering. We don’t have to be here.”

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t be, and you weren’t only wondering. You felt left out of an important part of my life, the Heathens, and you’re here because you’re not my dirty little secret.”

Her lips part the slightest bit, like whenever I do something unusual and she’s stunned into silence.

I use that chance to drag her in with me.

She’s still shocked about my words and actions during these past two weeks. Ever since Annika and Creighton came back without either of them being hurt, I’ve found time to focus on more important things.

Like getting to know Cecily more. Yes, there’s still more to find out about her, despite all the snooping around and reading her journal.

I stopped doing that after I found an entry about me. Whatever her feelings for me are, I prefer to hear them from her instead of cheating and having access to thoughts she keeps for herself.

We still spend our nights at the cottage, but we go out, too. Once, I took her to a restaurant, and another time, she planned a mini-date on the beach. But mostly, we prefer our alone time at the cottage, where no one can interrupt us.

The other day, I convinced her to swim in the lake, and she held on to me for dear life the whole time, afraid of the monsters in the water.

Little does she know that I’m the worst monster in her life. She might be starting to understand me and get used to me, but I always have this feeling that I’ll fuck it up in some way. Maybe I’ll do something that will make her hate me, become insufferable about it, and then everything will go to hell.

Because the truth remains, Cecily is still scared of me sometimes. She still views me as the one who stalked her, coerced her, and barged into her life without leaving her a choice.

She’s choosing her battles by being this accepting. Deep down, if she was given the choice, she’d never choose me.

Which is why she’ll never fucking have that choice.

We part from Ilya at the entrance, and I take Cecily on a tour through the Heathens’ mansion. Little by little, her apprehension subsides, and she studies her surroundings intently, her hand going slack in mine.

“This place is huge,” she comments after we walk around for a while.

“You say that as if it’s the first time you’ve been here. Didn’t you sneak in with Anni a few times?”

“We didn’t go through the whole mansion, and to my defense, I didn’t want to. Anni and Ava are a bad influence.” She rubs the side of her nose, looking so adorably embarrassed. “Did you see me back then?”

“I have always seen you.”

Her hand grows hot in mine before she clears her throat and, in a desperate attempt to change the subject, she points at the door we’ve stopped in front of. “Is this your room?”

I nod, opening it, and she releases my hand to explore the place, her inquisitive eyes sparkling like every time she learns something about me.

She’s had the same reaction whenever I’ve offered her a tidbit about my past, my parents, and my vision. Anything about me, really.

A part of me wants to believe she’s genuinely interested in me, but that would be foolish, considering all the subtle pulling-back gestures.

Such as not saying my name during sex or keeping her distance in public as if not wanting to be associated with me.

We’ll work on those one at a time until she’s well aware that there’s no way out that doesn’t lead back to me.

That her rebellions are futile and she’ll only belong to me.

After looking around the minimalistic room, her shoulders hunch. “There’s nothing here.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I motion to her right. “There’s a bed.”

She smiles, but she shakes her head while fingering one of my college books. “You have a crazy sex drive, you know.”

I come behind her and wrap my arms around her middle, reveling in how she trembles in my hold. I’ll never get used to the feeling of her having this reaction whenever I touch her.

“That doesn’t seem to be a problem when you beg for it,” I whisper near her ear and I’m rewarded with another shudder.

Her fingers flip through the pages in an uncoordinated rhythm, her neck tilting to the side slightly, baring the translucent skin of her throat. I can’t resist the need to mark that skin, to suck on her blood so she’s flowing inside me.