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

But Jeremy is an emotionless vault. A heartless man who only serves his own agenda.

He won’t pity me.

He won’t judge me.

He just listened, and for some reason, that’s comforting in a bizarre way.

His grip remains firm on the trigger and his body language doesn’t change.

But then he pushes my finger.

Click.

My sobs echo around us as the rush of life surges through me with a ferocity I’ve never felt before.

I could’ve died just now, but I didn’t.

It’s like I’ve been reborn.

Calmly, almost methodically, Jeremy pulls the gun from between my clammy, numb fingers and places it against his temple. “Your turn.”

“Stop, please.” I barely see him through my blurry eyes.

“Don’t you want to see if I survive or blow my head off? If it’s the second option, you don’t have to worry. It’ll be ruled a suicide.”

I whirl around and fist both hands on his jacket. “You might be content with this game, but I’m not. I don’t want to watch you die.”

“Is that worry I hear in your tone, Lisichka?”

“It’s common sense! Who in their right mind would play a death game?”

“Me. So either ask the question, or I will.” He starts to remove the gun.

I have no doubt that he’ll keep his word.

Jeremy is no different than an unmovable mountain. A merciless apex predator.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I blurt, my voice hoarse and my nose clogged from all the crying.

“Because your darkness calls to mine. I want to unleash that repressed part of you and toy with it, with you, like when I smeared your innocence all over my cock. I want to own you, Cecily, every part of you, what you show and what you hide beneath self-imposed shackles. I won’t stop until you’re fully, thoroughly, and undeniably mine.”

I shudder at each of his calmly spoken words, at the assertiveness behind them, the determination coating them.

And for the first time since I stumbled into Jeremy’s path, I realize just how screwed I am.

Because this man won’t stop. No matter how far I run or how well I hide, he’ll flip the world upside down just to find me.

He doesn’t want me for me. He wants me due to his fixation on me or whatever image he’s created of me in his twisted head.

So when he pulls the trigger, a sane person should wish for his death. As he said, it’ll be ruled a suicide and I’ll get rid of him.

But I find myself holding my breath, trembling and pining for the thud of his heartbeat beneath my fingers.

The evidence that he’s alive.

That he’ll keep his promise and strip off my every self-imposed shackle.

In a last-ditch attempt, I reach for the gun and I gasp when he pulls the trigger. I slam my eyes shut, not wanting to see the bloodbath that could explode on his face.

A click sounds in the air and a long breath whooshes out of me.

His heartbeat doesn’t thud beneath my fingers, doesn’t spike—it remains the same. Alive but completely unaffected by the near-death experience.

That rush of life from earlier buzzes to the surface again, hooking against my bones and leaving me breathless.

I slowly open my eyes to find him watching me in that intense way that knots my insides.

“Your turn.” He hands me the gun.

I want to scream.

I want to hit him with it upside the head.

But instead of doing that, I grab it with unsteady fingers and then throw it with all my might at the window.

The shattering of glass nearly deafens me. Soon after, the gun falls to the wood porch outside with a thud.

My chest rises and falls so heavily, I can’t contain it, or the tears that are still staining my cheeks or the way I look at Jeremy.

It’s new, slightly spooked, slightly apprehensive, but it couldn’t be any more true. Real. Powerful.

He’s a force to be reckoned with and I’m right in his path. I finally accept that, even if I’ll never accept the reason why he’s so obsessed with me.

Or more like, I don’t understand it.

He offers no explanation or excuses so that I can see his point of view.

As he stares in the direction of the shattered window, I slip out of his hold, all but jumping back like a scared kitten.

I overestimate my ability to remain standing. My legs are like Jell-O from all the adrenaline and I have to grip the table for balance.

Jeremy pushes up to a standing position, and a ripple of fear rushes through me and locks my limbs. No matter how courageous I try to be, this man is still the most intimidating force of nature I’ve ever encountered.

Especially when his features are closed off and he’s risen to his full height.

“Are you going to run, Cecily?”

I bob my head up and down.

A sadistic gleam illuminates his usually dark eyes. “You sure about that? I won’t take it easy on you.”

“When have you ever?”

“True that.” He steps toward me and I take several back as his voice lowers, deepens, and crowds with tension. “I won’t give you a head start.”

Not thinking about the consequences of my choice, I run. All I know is that this option is better than a game of death.

The adrenaline from earlier rushes through my limbs and I climb the stairs that lead to the first floor. At first, I don’t hear him, and I think maybe I’m faster due to the superhuman energy that I gained tonight.