God of Fury (Legacy of Gods #5) by Rina Kent

“Back off,” he orders in that bossy tone that gets my dick all twitchy.

“Not in this lifetime.”

He jacks his forearm against my throat, nearly crushing my windpipe as his eyes shine with dangerous anger and uncontainable lust. “Don’t even think about touching me.”

“You’re the one who’s doing that. Can’t keep your hands off me, baby?”

“I’m pushing you away.”

“Still counts. Mmm. I missed the feel of your skin on mine.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“About you. Always.”

“Nikolai…”

“Yes, baby?”

He expels a long breath and I inhale it deep into my lungs. Herbal tea and honey. Of course he’ll have tea first thing in the morning, my Prince Charming.

“Listen, you bloody twat.” His voice is deep and firm, oozing command. “You don’t get to ignore me, pretend I don’t exist, then proceed to hurt my brother after I basically begged you not to and waltz back into my life as if nothing happened.”

“I’m not pretending it didn’t. I’m just saying I’m in your life despite everything that happened. And I didn’t ignore you because I wanted to. I was on my high and things would’ve turned ugly if I came close, especially with the shit with Landon. I punched you, Bran.”

“You didn’t mean to.”

“I still don’t like it. I hate the very idea of hurting you, even unintentionally. I was haunted for weeks by the sight of the blood that gushed out of your nose. I’m so sorry. I’ll never let myself do that again. That night in front of the Elites’ mansion was enough proof that I had no control and was capable of hurting you. Also, I could never pretend you don’t exist, motherfucker. You’re everywhere like goddamn air.”

His grip loosens a little, giving me more room to breathe. “You could’ve told me.”

“Like you so readily told me about the cuts?”

A line appears between his brows and he breathes harsher, his chest rising and falling with difficulty, but he has no reply, because even his hypocritical analogy doesn’t make sense.

“Now, you listen to me, motherfucker.” I wrap a hand around his throat. “You don’t get to hide from me and demand to know me. You don’t get to bury yourself six feet deep and think you can still read me like a book. If I’m splitting myself open for you and allowing you to see parts of me no one else is privy to, you need to do the same. You owe me that fucking much.”

His lips are set in a line and I expect him to refuse or flash me his surprisingly devastating anger, but he releases a sigh. “Are you really going to let go of the Landon thing?”

“I should’ve listened to you and exchanged you for Mia. You can say I told you so.”

“No, Nikolai. I don’t derive pleasure from seeing you hurt or conflicted, and I know how much you love your sister. But it’s hypocritical to want Lan away from her while insisting on having me. Lan is my twin brother and he will always be a massive part of my life. You can’t, under any circumstances, make me choose. I need you to understand that.”

“I get it. I’m sorry.”

His expression softens. “Apology accepted. You’ll try not to punch him next time you see him?”

“Yeah. Not sure he’ll do the same, though.”

“What did you do now?”

“Me? He’s the one who threatened me in my own fucking house. He said, and I quote, ‘I’ve seen the way you look at my brother, you uncultured swine, and I’m telling you right now that if you come near him, I’ll break your fucking legs.’”

Bran’s face pales. “He…knows?”

“I didn’t say anything. I promise.”

He shakes his head, a pained expression crossing his features. “You didn’t have to.”

“You hate that?”

“I wouldn’t say I hate it… I’m just trying to figure out why he hasn’t said anything to me. Is he also waiting?”

“Waiting for what?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Brandon,” I grit out, and he looks at me with…disappointment? Pain?

“What?” he asks in a hurt tone.

“I hate the word nothing. It’s at the top of my shit list with fine and sorry.”

“Well, I hate it when you call me by my full name, too.”

Fuck me.

His lower lip pushes slightly forward in a little pout and I can’t help the feeling of complete adoration that floods me.

He’s so goddamn cute for an asshole.

“Won’t happen again, baby.” I cup his nape and crash my lips to his.

Bran gasps and I swallow the sound the fuck up. My tongue pushes past his teeth, only to be met by his eager one. A growl spills from me as he clenches his fingers in my hair and switches us around so that my back hits the counter and he’s the one crowding me, breathing the intense, angry passion through me.

Our mouths war as I flip him again, forcing him to gobble down the taste of my aggression that only he can tame.

God-fucking-damn-it. I missed him.

I want the madness, the pressure, the war. I want all of him in me. Bleeding inside me. Breaking apart for me.