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

He beams. “The professor has been looking at you, so you might want to hide your phone for a bit.”

“Oh.” I tuck it on my lap. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

“My pleasure. I’m Zayn.”

“I know. Cecily.”

“Nice to finally meet you, Cecily.” He grins and I manage an awkward smile back.

It’s not really about him. I’m shit at meeting new people and often give off the wrong vibes.

There’s a reason the only friends I have are my childhood ones—and recently, Anni because she picks up on social cues fast and eradicates any type of awkwardness.

I lean my chin on my palm and contemplate the pending decision I have to make.

Stay.

Or finally let go.





14





CECILY





At seven p.m. sharp, I’m at the location Jeremy sent me.

I must have some sort of a death wish or a loose screw, because I came here despite the million and one wrong reasons my brain came up with to dissuade me from doing this.

But if I followed logic, I wouldn’t be able to fully live. I wouldn’t be able to come out of my shell and try what I signed up for on that app.

I promised myself that if I had a tinge of the crippling panic attack and nausea that comes with anything related to sex, I’d leave immediately.

On the drive here, I waited for that familiar anxiety, the sweating, and the metaphorical paralysis of my mind.

None of them came.

The only thing that’s been bubbling in my veins is unbounded excitement.

The type that flows through your blood and confiscates your thoughts.

The type that simmers beneath the surface, unable to find refuge anywhere except inward.

From my car, I stare at the property surrounded by barbed wire. It’s not a house, a mansion, or even a building.

It’s more like…a cottage in the middle of a large piece of land. It’s like the one Papa and his friends meet at and brought us along to when we were kids.

Only, this one appears unruly, unkempt, like a gothic cathedral that has been abandoned for years.

The darkness doesn’t do it any favors; shadows extend over the length of the cottage that appears small in the distance.

Large trees appear like demons with horns, and the wild bushes and grass give it an eerie vibe.

If it weren’t for the metal gate, one would think this is an abandoned property.

I search both ways down the road in case this isn’t the place Jeremy sent me to, but the maps app clearly said, ‘You’ve arrived.’ Besides, there’s only unkempt land on either side and across the street.

The road leading here wasn’t as smooth as the rest on the island. Hell, I didn’t know this place existed. It’s far away, secluded, and might as well be unknown. Definitely not somewhere I want to be during the night when predators come out to play.

A haunting screech assaults my ears and I flinch as the gate slowly opens.

I glance to the side again, then I drive through.

By the time I reach the cottage, the gate has closed and I’m trapped inside.

Unless I just drive back out.

No.

I’m simply not allowing those second thoughts to dictate my life anymore.

After a deep inhale, I step out of the car, throw a fleeting glimpse at my surroundings, then shiver at the demon-like trees.

After a thorough inspection of the place, I raise my hand to knock on the old wooden door of the cottage.

Or cathedral. I think this was really a cathedral once upon a time and was renovated to something else.

A creak announces that the door is being opened and I step inside, my legs shaking despite the pep talk I gave myself on the way here.

“Jeremy?” My voice is haunting in the otherworldly silence, interrupted by the occasional haunting owl’s cries in the distance.

My feet come to a stop right past the entrance upon seeing the vintage fireplace.

It’s on the opposite wall, lighting what looks to be an antique living room. Old sofas, a washed-out rug, and wood flooring.

A gust of wind coming from the door disturbs the fire and a slight shudder creeps up my spine.

My gaze strays to the dark stairs on my right. I swear some creatures of the night are lurking up there, waiting for my demise.

Maybe ghosts, too.

“Jeremy, are you there?” My quivering voice has decided it’s going to give away my fear and there’s simply nothing I can do about it.

I take a step forward and stop when the fire dances again and then goes out, turning everything black.

My heart hammers and a chill covers my unsteady limbs. I don’t have to see it, to feel the sudden change of atmosphere.

There’s a presence behind me.

Tall, harsh, and darker than the night.

But before I can move, something cold is placed at my throat.

A knife.

He’s holding a freaking knife to my neck. This isn’t what I signed up for—there was no mention of knives.

“Je—”

“Shh.” His voice has lowered, deepened, and is tugging on a secret part of me. “You don’t say my name.”

I swallow, my throat working against the metal blade.

Right.

We’re anonymous now.

It’s not about us as people, but more about how we’re both tools for pleasure. In this setting, I don’t have to think about repercussions or feel shame for wanting this type of barbarity.