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

Doesn’t he ever give up?

Every morning, I wake up and chant in my head that I’ll get used to his watchful gaze with time and that today will be better.

I don’t and it isn’t.

Not even a little.

If anything, my anxiety levels shoot up whenever it’s time to go home or outside, but I can’t stay huddled in the house if I don’t want him to be suspicious.

My whole body is attuned to his presence and I can feel him even if I don’t see him.

Or more like the weight of his stare.

That dispassionate, cold stare of his that’s able to strip anyone bare.

I’ve seen him exactly three times outside of this stalker situation. Once was when he came to personally pick up Anni from REU.

The other two times were at the fight club Ava drags us to now and again. He was there to offer support for the Heathens’ members as they fought.

All three times, I either hid or looked away the moment his punishing gaze fell on me.

I couldn’t handle his watchful gaze or the shame that rattled my bones when I was in his presence.

If my encounter with him in that forest is of any indication, then Jeremy is the type of person I shouldn’t, under any circumstances, get involved with.

Not only is he soulless, but he also doesn’t let up. Not even a little.

Hell, it’s been so many weeks, but he’s still not giving up on watching me and trying to find any clues as to why I was at the initiation.

Even now, I can feel that savage intent radiating off him in waves. Goosebumps erupt on my skin and I shiver as if I’ve been drenched with cold water.

I retrieve my earbuds and put them in, then raise the volume to the max in a helpless attempt to drown out my surroundings.

It doesn’t matter if my hearing is gone. I can still feel his aura flaring around me, prickling my skin, nearly suffocating me.

Something happens behind me and I pretend I haven’t sensed it and march on.

A sudden movement jolts me to a stop and I slowly turn around.

I grow still at the scene in front of me.

Two guys lie on the ground, their noses and mouths bleeding while they twist and wriggle in pain. Over them stands Jeremy, his fist bloody and his expression blank and freezing.

It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him this close and I almost forgot how absolutely huge his build is. His leather jacket stretches against the corded muscles of his biceps and the heaving of his wide chest.

I have no doubt that he’s the one who made them like that, and now, I wish I hadn’t stopped to inspect the scene.

Just when I’m thinking about the best way to escape, he strides toward me. I’m too stunned to move and he reaches me in a few steps.

I flinch when his hand shoots out at my face, but he doesn’t grab me. He yanks out my earbuds.

The loud music still reaches me even as he engulfs them in his big hand with veins extending from the back of it to his long fingers.

“Why the fuck—” he cuts himself off, then starts again with a more collected tone. “Who listens to loud music while they’re walking alone at night?”

He’s talking to me. Blimey. Why is he talking to me when he’s made it his mission to only watch me?

My skin heats and I think I’m hyperventilating. No, I’m sure I am.

The savage weight of his stare stabs me as he waits with growing impatience to hear my reply.

“I didn’t think—”

“You obviously didn’t think. Do you even do that?”

“Don’t insult me.” I breathe harshly. “I wouldn’t have put on the loud music if you weren’t following me like a creep.”

I pause.

Damn it. Damn it.

It was an unspoken rule to not admit I was aware he was stalking me, but I went ahead and divulged that I knew all along.

I expect anger, maybe a lash of his freezing coldness, but a slight smirk lifts his lips. “Like a creep, huh?”

“I didn’t mean…”

“You didn’t mean what? The creep part?”

“I’m… I’m going home.”

“No, you’re not.” He clutches my elbow. “Since I’m already a creep, might as well act on it.”





8





CECILY





I’m stunned into long, thick silence.

And Jeremy uses the chance to drag me behind him. He doesn’t do it gently, doesn’t wait for any cues from me. He just digs his fingers into my elbow and pulls me along.

I’m wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt, but my skin tingles and burns where he’s gripping it.

The sudden, nonnegotiable motion might as well be an ambush that strips away all my defenses.

I’m not used to being treated this way—stalked, manhandled, grabbed with brutal strength.

I gradually snap out of my shocked state and try to wrench my arm free.

His powerful, much bigger hand engulfs my elbow in a merciless hold, fingers digging further in the skin until I can feel a bruise forming there.

“Where are you taking me? Let me go.” I hate the tremor in my voice, the helplessness in it.

I’ve always prided myself on being confident and having the ability to conquer anything in my path, but this is a lot different from anything I’ve experienced.

Jeremy Volkov isn’t a person who I can stand up to and hope to come out of the encounter unscathed. He’s not an entity that can be dealt with logically and hope for favorable results.