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

I stay in the living room as he takes Ava to her room, with Cecily following behind.

Soon after, he reemerges, and she slams the door shut.

“Find those two from tonight. The one who was with Ava, too.”

He nods and heads out, closing the front door behind him.

I study the living room that Cecily spends some of her time in. Annika always talks about how Cecily and Glyndon want peaceful nights in, while she and Ava prefer to go out.

It’s simple, full of small stuffed rabbits and other animals that I’m sure isn’t her doing.

Her room speaks of her more than this shared space.

I make a swift check of the place in case of a security hazard, but I find nothing suspicious.

For now.

Fifteen minutes later, Cecily reemerges from Ava’s room, holding her heels in her hand and tiptoeing as she slowly closes the door.

I stalk behind her and whisper in her ear, “Why are you acting like a thief?”

She gasps and turns around so fast, she tumbles backward. I grab her by the elbow and steady her. Her shoes end up on the floor, though.

Her throat works with a swallow as she stares at me and whispers, “I thought you left.”

“I’m obviously still here,” I murmur back.

“I heard the front door open and close.”

Which is probably why she let her guard down. She might not be as oblivious to her surroundings as I previously thought.

“That was Ilya.” I lean closer. “How long are we supposed to keep whispering?”

She grabs my hand—no, it’s just my wrist—and drags me to her room, then closes the door. “You need to leave.”

“Why?”

“How the hell am I supposed to explain you to Ava? We’re not in a relationship.”

That’s the second fucking time she’s said that sentence tonight. The difference is that she doesn’t sound accusing now and is only stating facts.

“Do you want to be in a relationship?”

Her lips part the slightest bit, but that’s enough of a sign. “What?”

“You were jealous of Maya, and you apparently need a label to put your busy brain at ease. Will being in a relationship satisfy you?”

“What does being in a relationship with you mean, Jeremy? That you get to order me around, have me do your bidding while you continue to push me out? Because that’s called ownership, not a relationship, and I’m not a fan.”

“Watch that mouth.”

She releases a long breath, then speaks in a less strained tone. “A relationship means compromise, giving and taking, a partnership. It’s not an imbalance of power where you have the last word in everything and I’m along for the ride.”

“You love the ride.”

“Sexually, yeah, I do. I give you free rein to do whatever you please in that department. But not in the real world, Jeremy. I’m a human being with feelings, fears, and preferences. I’m also an independent person who cherishes her freedom. If you force me all the time, I’ll eventually close myself off from you. I don’t want that, and I’m sure you don’t want that either, right?”

I narrow my eyes on her.

She’s asking for something. What exactly, I don’t know.

“Say it.”

Her brow furrows. “Say what?”

“What you want.”

“I just want to know more about you. It’s unfair that you’re the only one who knows things about me.”

“You know everything there is to know.”

“Everything? You mean the fact that you study business, are the head of the Heathens, and a mafia heir? Those tell me nothing about your character.”

“You know about the bike, the cottage, and my sexual flavors.”

She relaxes a little, probably finally figuring out how she’s underestimating how much she knows me. Almost on the same level as my parents.

Hell, even they don’t know what I’m into.

She steps closer. “Have you always had this kink?”

“Since I hit puberty, yes.”

“When did you first act on it?”

“During that initiation when I was chasing you.”

Her face blushes. “You…never tried it before?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t trust anyone to do it with.”

“Does that mean you trust me?” She looks at me with big green eyes so full of hope and renewed affection.

No, she wants my affection.

She wants more from me.

Me.

That one baffles the fuck out of me. Why would she? The only thing I know how to give her is pleasure.

“Partially,” I say in answer to her question.

Her shoulders hunch and some of the brightness from before dims. “Why not fully?”

Because you called that motherfucker’s name during that first time.

And she refused to call mine earlier.

Not to mention that she’s begrudgingly into this, partly because I threatened her, partly because she can’t—and won’t—find anyone who satisfies her kink aside from me. Who touches her, fucks her, and pushes her buttons like I do.

But if she has the chance, I have no doubt she’ll bolt.

“It’s my turn to ask the questions.” I cross my arms. “What did that blond fucker do that caused you to zone out?”