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

But as soon as I sit back down and grab my cup of tea, Ava barges into our childhood friend’s personal space. “Glyn! Back me up on this.”

“What are we discussing?”

“Fantasies,” Annika supplies. “Cecily said her fantasy is finding a nice, normal man since that’s so rare nowadays.”

“It is.” I let the lukewarm tea soothe my throat. “Sorry, I’m lame.”

“You’re lying.” Ava crosses her arms over her fuzzy pajamas. “A year ago, you said your fantasy was to be ambushed in a dark place and taken against your will.”

It’s like someone drenches me with cold water.

My hand shakes and droplets of tea splash on my skin.

I can feel that out-of-body sensation creeping in and stealing my breath.

Just when I think I’ll stumble into nothingness, Glyn slides to my side, holds me by the shoulder, and glares at Ava. “We agreed to not talk about that again.”

“Don’t act high and mighty. You said something similar, too. What was it? Oh, you want to fight it and be forced to take it, even when you say no. I can’t be the only one who remembers that.”

Glyn snuggles into my side and rubs my arm like the sweet creature she is. Like me, she’s too reserved to ever express herself.

In hindsight, telling Ava anything, even during a drunk moment, was a grave mistake.

She’s shit at keeping secrets, and I know she doesn’t mean any harm and is only trying to make Anni feel at home with us, but still.

Even if Anni wasn’t here, I’d rather we not speak of that subject ever again.

That was a weak moment.

One that I’m thinking of acting on, but still.

Their words swirl around me, something about Glyn reprimanding Ava, talk of Anni’s fantasy. But I’m barely hearing anything.

It’s an uncomfortable silence, one where I’m in a world of my own making that I can’t escape.

Soon after, Ava and Anni plot to party, the latter being convinced by Ava that her brother wouldn’t do anything to her and we’ll protect her.

An hour later, we’re in the Heathens’ mansion.

No shit.

Annika used her connections with the guards so they’d allow us inside and we’ve been huddled in the corner for the past ten minutes.

The three girls are all in pretty dresses, including Glyn, who was forced into a tight red one by the two fashion divas, who then painted her face with matching makeup.

I’m the only one in my usual jeans and T-shirt that says Sorry for the bitch face. Didn’t want to be here. They did try to dress me up, but that wasn’t happening in this lifetime.

To say I don’t want to be here would be an understatement. My skin has been crawling ever since we drove through the huge gothic-like gate.

Memories from last night are still fresh, beating beneath my skin with the persistence of an open wound.

Still, I couldn’t just let these three go on their own. Ava would certainly get into trouble and drag them along. Glyn wouldn’t stand a chance and Anni’s courage has been deflating ever since we actually got here.

She proposed that maybe we could go to a different party instead of the one her brother and his gang are hosting.

A suggestion that was dutifully ignored by Ava, then by Remington and Creighton, who’ve joined us after having also sneaked in here.

I really don’t see the appeal of the Heathens’ parties or mansion. Is it the exclusivity part of it?

Yes, the mansion is huge, with fine architecture, luxurious furniture, and delectable food, but it’s loud, impersonal, and couldn’t shake its eerie quality to save its life.

I choose to focus on those in my company instead. Although Creighton has left, probably having had enough of Remi’s antics and decided to go to sleep.

Remi also wandered out behind a group of girls, and Anni has been unsuccessfully trying to hide behind any pillar. Ava has been stealing drinks from passing waiters and hissing after each gulp.

Glyn’s the only one who’s been making conversation and staying close to me, which is why I notice when she freezes.

I follow her field of vision and freeze, too. Coming down the stairs are two members of the Heathens.

Gareth Carson and Jeremy Volkov.

The first looks like a groomed prince with his styled hair, clean-shaven face, and elegant trousers and button-down.

The other looks no different from a monster out of hell.

It’s not about the way he’s dressed, since he’s wearing black slacks, a white T-shirt, and a leather jacket.

It’s everything else.

The messy black hair, the intense, piercing gray eyes, high cheekbones, and the sharp features that translate his insufferable character.

He’s also big in everything. Height, build, and personality. I’ve never seen anyone as muscular as he is, except for maybe Nikolai. But he moves pretty swiftly for a huge guy, silently, too, as if he’s trained to only be noticed whenever he deems it necessary.

Jeremy is considered the dark beauty type. He’s that one person you know is handsome, beyond attractive, but his actions paint him as more monstrous than beautiful.

Destructive.

Unapproachable.

And he seems absolutely content with that image.

But then again, why wouldn’t he? His infamous reputation precedes him and he seems fine with that, too.

In fact, he may actively encourage it.