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

I dream of dark eyes following my every move, watching every step, and counting every breath.

They’re intense and ruthless and I don’t stand a chance in front of them.

It’s half a dream, half reality, because I know I’m lying in bed and drunk out of my mind with tears in my eyes.

But I still feel him.

He fills the room with his otherworldly presence as he watches me from the corner with enough tension to spike the heat in my veins.

I kick the blanket away and moan when it rubs against my soft flesh. I slide my hand beneath my shorts, under my knickers, then tease my swollen folds.

Soft moans slip out of me and I hide my face in the pillow to muffle them. The more I feel his eyes on me, the harder I tease my clit and the stronger I sense the pleasure building in my core.

When I’m getting close, I writhe in bed, my heart beating so loud, I’m surprised no one outside can hear.

A low tutting sound fills the room and I freeze, slowly opening my eyes.

They clash with gray ones. The devil’s eyes.

Who’s watching my every move from the corner.

“No wonder you like to be chased when you touch yourself this gently. How about I show you how it’s properly done, Lisichka?”





11





CECILY





My ears ring until I can’t hear my own breathing.

For a moment, I’m hanging in space, unable to concentrate on anything but these intense gray eyes that appeared in more nightmares than I can count.

And dreams.

Lots of filthy dreams that would make Remi the prude if he ever saw them.

Jeremy advances toward me with sure, long steps. He looks the same as when he used to stalk me.

A leather jacket, black jeans, and a scowl so deep, it could make a person confess to crimes they didn’t commit.

His sharp features are shadowed by the lack of light, making him look like a reaper, a devil in his natural habitat.

A devil whose whole punishing attention zeroes in on me.

A zipping sensation slashes through my trembling limbs, mirroring the one from when I ran through that forest and he caught me.

Slammed me down.

Ravaged me.

Made me scream.

My hand pauses on my folds, and I swear he can see it through the thin material of my underwear and shorts, because his attention slides to them.

He probably sees how my fingers tremble, giving away what I’m doing.

If I were doused with gasoline, I’d probably catch fire from his stare alone. Or glare. Or something in between.

There’s a mystic quality to the way he looks at me. It rushes through my aching insides and rips out parts of me I thought were long dead.

He stops by my bedside, arms crossed, and his thumb strokes his jacket in a controlled rhythm. Back. Forth.

Back and forth.

“Is this a dream?” I ask in a sluggish, and definitely drunk, voice.

“I don’t know. Do you think it is?” His low timbre reverberates in the room and stabs my ears.

I focus on our surroundings, on my ‘nerdy’ room, as Remi calls it, with books and manga posters covering the walls and the ceiling.

The chatter, laughter, and karaoke-singing reach me from outside, and I realize the semi-party is still going.

Or this is in fact a dream and I conjured him.

“You… Why are you here?” I start to remove my hand from beneath my shorts, but he shakes his head.

“Hide again and I’ll leave.”

I swallow, flattening my palm on my folds. Jeremy’s expression doesn’t change, whether in approval or displeasure, as he reaches for the elastic of my sleeping shorts.

My free hand grabs his, my nails digging into the veins on the back of it.

“Let go,” he orders with easy authoritativeness. The type that gets past the confinements of my ears and flows into my blood instead.

My fingers tremble and it’s my turn to shake my head. I’m sluggish and can barely think straight, but I can still remember those horrendous images.

Those…loss-of-control pictures.

But then Jeremy comes into focus, with his mean demeanor and not-classically handsome face.

It’s savage beauty as merciless as its owner’s.

“I said. Let. Go.” The punch behind his words strikes me in my shriveling chest.

My fingers slowly pull away. They’re not completely free when he yanks down my shorts.

The motion is so sudden and violent that I gasp, or I think I do, but not actually, because my reactions are delayed.

He throws the shorts aside and hooks his fingers in the waistline of my underwear.

I go to catch his hand again, but this time, a single look is enough to make me pause.

“You need to quit the habit of disobeying me as your knee-jerk reaction.” He removes the underwear, slightly ripping them before he throws them toward the shorts. “If I want you naked, I’ll have you naked.”

My pulse spikes and I can’t help the mixture of vulnerability and thrill that courses inside me.

Of fear and anticipation.

Uncertainty and resolution.

I’ve never been as conflicted as when I’m in Jeremy’s presence.

It’s like he’s able to unlock a part of me I didn’t realize existed. Or I did but still tried everything under the sun to shackle it.

His rough gaze openly watches, studies, and slides over my most intimate part that I’m barely covering with my hand.