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

“All thanks to you.”

A small pause of silence hangs between us before he says, “Be careful.”

“I will.”

“Your mother is worried about you and is concerned you’re slipping away. Call her sometime.”

“Will do.”

I click the End button and stare at the soft glow of the sun in the distance.

It’s a mixture of yellow and orange, but appears gray.

Black, even.

Despite my best efforts, none of this suffocation is disappearing. If anything, it’s thickening and growing in density.

I should blow off steam in a different way.

This time, with the person behind this fucking mess.

I send Cecily a location, then follow with a text.

Be here tonight. Seven p.m. Don’t be late.

She might become a coward again, erase that text, pretend she didn’t admit to her tendencies out loud, and kill the animal inside her.

But something tells me she’s been approaching the boiling point for a while now and she might have reached it last night.

I sensed the trapped emotions inside her and saw the way her eyes shone with dark lust when I was using her mouth.

Cecily might be finally ready to act on her fantasy.

And when she does, I’ll show her who the actual monster is in this equation.





13





CECILY





What the hell have I done?

I’ve been asking myself that question ever since I woke up this morning with an epic headache, an ache between my legs, and a huge bite mark on my neck.

No kidding. It’s so big and angry red that no amount of makeup could erase it, so I had to wear a scarf to hide it.

During class, I’ve been on autopilot, zoned out, unable to concentrate for more than ten minutes.

My head swims and I give up on one of my favorite lectures, human behavior, halfway through. The professor’s words rise and fall in intonation, but none of them get past my ears.

Slumping in my seat, I pull out my phone and stare at the text sitting at the top.

My index finger rubs the side of my nose once, twice, and then I push up my black-framed glasses as I read and reread the text.

Be here tonight. Seven p.m. Don’t be late.

It’s Jeremy. I don’t have to guess since it has his name. I didn’t have his number, but apparently, it was saved on my phone last night.

I was drunk, but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember. The moment I woke up, memories flashed in my consciousness and bombarded every principle I thought I had.

Such as not getting involved with someone like Jeremy.

Sexually or not.

But last night, I was totally out of it—I refuse to believe sober me would’ve enjoyed being eaten out and having his thing in my mouth.

Sober me would’ve fought…right?

Sober me would’ve never sent that text that served as his invitation. Not that he needed one—if he wanted to jump through my window, he could and would do it.

He’s a force of nature.

An impossible dilemma.

And he took from me more than I was willing to give. Unapologetically. Without waiting to see if I agreed to it.

Because that’s what Jeremy Volkov does. He’s a man with no boundaries, ethics, or limits. And if last night is any indication, then I’ve only witnessed the tip of his intensity.

I have no doubt that if I let my guard down, he’ll drag me into his dark cave and swallow me whole.

But is that so wrong?

A tiny, crazy, stupid voice chants in the back of my head, mulling over and entertaining an option I shouldn’t be considering.

Besides the self-loathing, there’s been this primal yearning for the feelings I experienced when he straddled my face and used me.

I can’t stop thinking about the raw look in his eyes, the way he desired me so much that he behaved like an animal.

After studying either side of me, making sure the other students are focused on the professor or sleeping, I lower my phone to my lap and type a reply.

Cecily: Why? What will happen there at seven?

A strange sensation flows through me when he reads the text almost immediately. My leg bounces as I wait for the dots to appear. The movements are so jerky that the guy sitting close to me gives me a fleeting glance and I force myself to calm down.

Blimey.

Why am I so affected by this?

By him?

Because you know he’s probably the only one who’ll incinerate the limits you’re so scared to cross.

My screen lights up with a text, and I stop breathing for a second.

Jeremy: How’s the hangover?

My fingers tremble. Why is he asking that? It can’t be because he’s worried about me like the way Ava left me some pharmaceutical remedies and painkillers on the side table. Those definitely helped.

Cecily: My head hurts a little, but I’m fine.

Jeremy: I suppose you’re a lightweight, Lisichka?

Cecily: What does that mean? Lisichka?

Jeremy: Little fox. You looked like one that day at the initiation. You still feel like one with all the cunning.

Cecily: I’m not that cunning.

Really. I’m not. I’m just good at the invisibility game. Sometimes, I’m not sure if helping Lan out that one time was worth it since it presented me with this nightmare.

Jeremy: I suggest you don’t drink again.

Cecily: Why not?