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

Another tap on my shoulder, a subtle nudge, and the feeling of his breath down my neck.

I stare at Lan, who looks dashing in his casual clothes without him making an effort. It’s the easygoing grin and the aristocratic features. He shares them with his twin brother, but Bran appears elegant and sophisticated.

He’s nothing more than a devil.

“What do you want, Lan?”

“Don’t sulk over such a trivial issue.”

“Trivial,” I whisper-yell so the others don’t hear. “Did you just call arson trivial?”

“No one got hurt.”

“Jeremy did.” My chest squeezes, as is the case whenever I think about him.

“Meh. He survived.” Lan’s blank gaze remains in place, and I come to the bitter realization that I really don’t know this man.

I’ve spent twenty years in his orbit and about three years crushing on him, and yet I have no clue who the hell he is.

“He was hurt, Lan,” I repeat. “He was injured and needed medical attention.”

“He still survived like a cat with nine lives. Also, hold on, why are you getting so worked up about Jeremy? Don’t you hate him?”

Worked up.

Is that what it looks like from the outside? That I’m worked up?

Ava said something similar when I kept asking Anni questions as soon as she was able to meet with us again for lunch.

“Why are you so invested in this, Cecy?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

I waved her off, but now, I face Lan. “Because I unknowingly caused a fire after you used my goodwill for satanic purposes.”

He laughs, slapping his knees, but none of the emotions reach his eyes. “Aren’t you being a little dramatic? It’s the Remi effect, isn’t it?”

It dawns on me then. All of this is a joke to Lan, a game he plays, a fun activity he indulges in.

He couldn’t care less who needs to be crushed as long as he has what he wants.

I’m just a pawn on his chessboard that he used and discarded.

“Did someone say my lordship’s name?” Remi jumps up beside us. “Don’t talk behind my back when you have the whole thing here.”

“Oh?” Lan grins. “And here I thought you were ignoring me, Rems.”

“Nonsense.” He gathers him in a bro hug. “There, there, don’t feel lonely, mate.”

Bran releases a puff of air. “He doesn’t even know the meaning of that word.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Lan says with a grin and utter ease, enjoying egging his twin brother on a bit too much.

He’s like that, whether it’s with his friends or family. Everyone is a fluid matter that could and would be used.

I guess I only just realized the extent he’d go to.

“Are you guys fighting for my attention? Don’t do that, I can’t choose!” Remi releases Lan and goes to sit beside Creigh. “I will only have my spawn, thank you very much. I know you miss Anni, even if you don’t say it, but I’ll keep you company.”

“He doesn’t care about you.” Ava raises her glass. “Maybe you should salvage your dignity while you can.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are we still talking about me? Because that whole speech could’ve been directed at you. Your dignity is shriveling and dying on the floor as we speak.”

“Oh, you’re so dead, bitch.”

“Bring it on, bitch.”

Ava goes for his throat and they bicker on and on, accidentally spilling each other’s secrets. Glyn, who’s allergic to conflict, tries to mediate and break them up. Bran offers them drinks to cool them down.

Neither work.

Usually, I’d take Ava’s side. One, it’s fun to rile Remi up. Two, she might not act like it, but she was hurt by his words and I don’t allow that.

But I can’t bring myself to move or talk. Some of that has to do with Lan being here.

In the past, I’d get all giddy whenever he joined us and fangirl internally. Now, I’m uncomfortable.

I don’t want to sit beside him, knowing what he’s done. It’s been a long time since I figured out he doesn’t care about me more than as a childhood friend, but this is the first time I’ve finally accepted it.

I wait for the pain to wash through me, but it doesn’t. It’s merely a dull ache now, and I’m not sure if it’s because of him or something else.

After taking a sip of my drink, I check my phone. It’s a stupid habit I’ve developed ever since a different devil barged into my life.

The last text I sent is sitting there. On Read.

Of course he didn’t reply. Why would he?

Besides, I was too stressed at the moment, thinking I actually hurt a person, as monstrous as he is, or I wouldn’t have sent him that text.

From his perspective, I must’ve looked like the clingy type who couldn’t move on from the madness of that one night.

A part of me regrets it, the part that was always ashamed of my preferences. The part that prides itself in being confident and assertive but still made the reckless mistake of showing my tendencies to a predator.

No, not a predator. A hunter.

The other part is relieved that I was finally able to do something about my fantasies. That I was courageous enough to let it happen while I was scared of it.