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

Her lips tremble, but she murmurs, “You’re really impossible.”

“So you keep telling me. You need to learn that I don’t give a fuck about what’s considered normal or socially acceptable. If I want something, I will have it.”

She goes still, probably detecting my nonnegotiable tone. Her gaze slides all over me, from my face to my nonchalant position to the ink that’s spilling out from my short-sleeved shirt.

It lingers there, on the ink, before she slides it back to my face. “How are you any different from barbarians?”

“Don’t know and don’t care. Labels hold no importance for me.”

“What does then?”

“At the moment? You and your submission.”

She swallows thickly. “What if I say no?”

“Then you’d be lying to me and yourself. You enjoy this, Cecily. It’s in your nature, so how about you let go for once?”

She clamps her lips shut, not saying anything.

I know I have a long way to go with her. She didn’t even admit to the reason behind her decimation until I basically forced it out of her.

My blood turns ice-cold in my veins at the thought of that fucker who hurt her and transformed a proud girl into someone who can’t control herself. What he did to her must be the reason why gagging and drugging are her limits.

I will find him.

I will make him regret fucking with her.

Cecily might be a toy, but she’s my fucking toy and no one is allowed to touch her.

Hurt her.

Or engrave a permanent scar inside her.





22





CECILY





Two weeks pass in a blur.

A crazy, twisted blur that I can’t keep up with.

The moment I start to adjust, Jeremy pulls the rug from beneath my feet and we go back to square one.

Every night, I have to show up at the cottage. If I don’t, his shadow will loom wherever I am. Whether I’m at the shelter, the library, or out with friends.

Anywhere.

He’s become a seasoned stalker who’s everywhere. He doesn’t need to say anything to prove his existence—his actions speak louder than words.

There’s nothing more frightening or threatening than his mere presence that he thoroughly uses to intimidate people—me included.

The thought of him acting on his threats and actually telling everyone what I enjoy doing in the dark terrorizes me more than I like to admit.

So every night, after the girls fall asleep, I sneak out of the flat like a thief and drive to the gothic place in the middle of nowhere.

It’s where I’m veiled by night. No one sees when I go to take part in my depraved tendencies, and no one hears when I scream as he fucks me into oblivion.

Because he does, and often, sometimes a few times during the same night.

He chases me whether inside the house or all over the property. The harder I run and fight him, the more animalistic he becomes, like a primal being who’s staking his claim.

The louder I scream, the deeper he goes, exposing and provoking the darkest parts of me.

He makes me beg sometimes, too, and always tells me to scream his name when he’s fucking me, smashing my world to pieces and ripping it apart.

Jeremy is a savage devil and an unapologetic sociopath. I know because I’ve been around him long enough to put an appropriate label on him.

Though he might be a psychopath, considering his lack of impulsive actions. He always seems in control, the commander of his being, and a planner. But he somehow cares for those closest to him, namely Annika, and his Heathen gang.

His parents, too, according to what his sister tells us.

But I’m not sure if that’s genuine care or a sense of responsibility that’s been implemented in him ever since he was young. Either way, Jeremy lacks humanity and empathy.

He has no qualms about destroying anyone who stands in his path, and he certainly feels no remorse for his actions. In his mind, he believes the course of events that took place had to happen in that certain way, and there’s no force of nature that can convince him otherwise.

Due to his inflexible values, opinions, and actions, it’s hard to get a say with him.

It’s even harder to get him to see reason—not when he believes that his way is the most logical choice.

It’s more impossible to get him to let me go.

In the beginning, I thought his fixation with me was a phase that would dull with time. An obsession that would eventually purge its way out of his system.

After all, whether he’s a sociopath or a psychopath, Jeremy scores high on the antisocial spectrum, and his type has a fickle sense of relationships and an even shorter attention span.

To my horror, the exact opposite has happened.

Not only is he not growing bored of me, but he’s also extending the amount of time I spend in his company.

Now, he fucks me longer and won’t let me leave until the early hours of the morning, so I’ve started going back to the flat at near dawn.

He never asks me to stay the night, though. Never fucks me unclothed, and never steps in the shower with me.

That’s his way of creating distance between us and letting me know that I’m nothing more than his fuck toy. One he enjoys chasing and fucking, but never one to hold in his arms or show affection to.

He cooks for me, cleans me afterward, and even carries me in his arms to the cottage, but that’s the extent of his affection. Or the lack thereof.