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

Is there an underlying mental disorder associated with rape fantasies?

Paraphilias listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.

Is primal kink a sexual deviation?

Serial killers’ kinks.

That one puts a smile on my face.

Jesus.

I can almost imagine the deer-in-the-headlights expression she had while reading all of this stuff.

My gaze slides to her sleeping form. “You need to stop forcing labels on yourself.”

I skim through the articles written by some hotshot psychologists who try not to be judgy but sometimes let their true colors show.

Cecily must’ve been in a position where she had to see her preferences through a professional lens and wondered if something was wrong with her.

She’s shackled in some way.

And something tells me it’s not only due to her rigid codes of honor, stiff personality, or altruistic little heart.

Something deeper lurks beneath the surface, and I’ll find it if it’s the last thing I do.

My plans to only watch from afar just to catch Landon through her lie are forgotten as I dig, probe, and search.

Words and websites start to blur together, but I don’t stop.

People like Cecily carry their wounds so deep that even those in their closest circle have no clue about them.

I’m positive she’s kept it a secret from her parents and grandparents, with whom she’s close to, so as not to burden them. Ava, too.

But no matter how much she hides it, I’ll figure out her secret and drag it out of her kicking and screaming.

The commotion starts to die down outside her door, and that’s my cue to leave.

I quietly close her laptop and make a mental note to hack into it again later to dig deeper into her search history.

Then I take a few pictures of the books and mangas she reads. I’m about to leave from the balcony when her phone vibrates on the bedside table.

I stalk to her side and pause when I see the name on the text.

The motherfucking non-prince.

I unlock it using her passcode. She uses the same one for everything—her parents’ marriage date.

Landon: Hi, stranger.

My fingers tighten on the phone, but I type back.

Cecily: Hi :)

I tut at the smiley face. But if I want to make him believe it’s her, I have to mimic her style.

Landon: Everything okay? Is Jeremy still bothering you?

Bothering.

That’s what she told him? That I was bothering her?

Granted, stalking could be called bothering in certain circumstances.

But I wouldn’t have resorted to that method if I’d known what this motherfucker told her to do.

Cecily: Everything’s great. He’s not following me anymore.

Or that’s what she believes, anyway.

Landon: For how long?

Cecily: About two weeks.

Landon: That’s not long enough. He’s a dog who doesn’t give up on the bone he found, so he could and would come back at any time.

This fucker is too smart for his own good. I’ve always plotted his demise, but right now? I’m downright scheming for his murder and the best burial site to erase his existence from life.

Cecily: I’ll be careful.

Landon: That’s my Ces. Stay safe. I mean it.

My Ces.

My. Ces.

It takes everything in me not to smash the phone to pieces. I delete the conversation and return it to her bedside table instead.

I was going to leave quietly, but now, I’m pissed off.

Pushing her hair away from her neck, I lean over and bite down so hard, I’m surprised I don’t draw blood.

But I will.

Soon.

And when I do, it’ll be much more brutal than this.

Cecily groans, then moans and hides her face in the pillow.

I cover her neck with her hair, take one of her mangas, and jump out the window.





Instead of going home, I choose to spend time blowing off steam.

On my bike.

I’ve already toured the whole island, but the subtle feeling of intoxication, asphyxiation, and complete irritation hasn’t disappeared.

By sunrise, I stop at the top of a hill, leaning against my bike.

But I don’t look at the view.

I don’t give a fuck about anything beautiful. In fact, I find nothing beautiful.

Everything pretty is destined to wither and die. To shrivel and vanish.

So why find anything beautiful in the first place? That’s setting oneself up for disappointment without even trying.

I fish out my phone to find a long conversation in the Heathens’ chat group.

Nikolai: Did that motherfucker just leave us hanging?

Gareth: He must’ve had something urgent to do. Jeremy isn’t the type to leave without a reason.

Nikolai: I say we vote him down. The audacity of that motherfucker. How dare he wake me up for nothing?

Killian: And who should we put in his place? You?

Nikolai: You shut it, Satan’s heir. And what’s wrong with me becoming a leader?

Killian: The same thing that’s wrong with putting a clown as the head of the CIA.

Nikolai: Did you just call me a clown?

Killian: I didn’t. You did.

Nikolai: I’m sorry, Gaz, but I’m killing your brother tonight. Please prepare the funeral and don’t tell Aunt Reina that I’m behind the hit. We’ll say the enemies got him.

Gareth: He’s your cousin. Do as you like.