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

“I don’t do that with you.”

“Don’t I know it.” He touches my arm. “Tell me. What are you in the mood for?”

“You already catered to what I want. We can do what you want today. Walk around the park or watch ducks all day. It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s your first time in London. I want you to have the full experience, including the clichéd photos in front of the red phone booths.”

“It’s not my first time. I’ve come with my parents and sisters before and with Dad a couple of times to meet his godfather who lives here.”

“Oh. Then why did you make it sound as if this is your first?”

I lift a shoulder. “I wanted to experience it with you. It feels like the first time. I couldn’t pass up the chance when you said you’d take me on a date.”

“I can’t with you.”

“I know I’m your favorite. Now, you tell me. What do you want to do?”

“I’ll take you to those bakeries anyway. We have to satisfy the sugar monster living rent-free in your stomach. After that…” He reaches a hand back and I tense, expecting him to pull on his hair, but he just rubs his nape. “Do you mind modeling for me again?”

“Not one bit.” I smile big and kiss his cheek. “I love getting naked for you.”

“You love getting naked everywhere.”

“Not everywhere. For you, baby.” My voice lowers. “I can’t wait to bury my cock in your ass and have you begging and writhing beneath me.”

“Stop talking,” he hisses under his breath but I can tell he’s fighting both a smile and an erection.

Over the past few days, I hung around in his studio while only wearing shorts as he worked on his paintings.

At that time, I was contemplating the best way to smash Landon’s sculptures to pieces without being canceled by Bran faster than a nineties show.

So imagine my surprise when he walked up to me with a brush and started painting all over my chest, then he slid down my shorts and kept going. Best foreplay ever.

Needless to say, I fucked him against the floor right after. Ever since then, he’d asked if I could model for him and I’ve jumped at the opportunity.

From the sketches I’ve caught glimpses of, I think he’s replicating my tattoos, and that’s a good sign, I think. I’d do anything in my power to help him get over not being able to paint people.

Astrid showed me a lot of his paintings from when he was younger, and it’s clear he has a god’s talent. He painted people with so many details and soul that it would captivate anyone—even an illiterate at art such as myself. That soul is tragically missing from the landscapes he does now.

Bran is about to say something when a little girl with dark skin and hair held up in colorful ribbons stops in front of him and gives him a daisy. “This is for you.”

He smiles and lowers himself to his haunches in front of her and has the audacity to accept the flower. “Thank you. Are you lost?”

“No, Mummy is just slow.”

He laughs, the sound like smooth honey.

And I’m not the reason behind it.

Am I thinking about pitching a little girl in the water so she’ll join the fucking ducks?

Yes, yes, I am.

She must feel my glare, because she looks up and glares back. This little shit isn’t scared of me while most people obviously are. Let’s say that during our walks, dogs like me, but their owners definitely do not. Both dogs and humans love Bran, though.

Not that I care or anything.

Except for glaring at anyone who bats their eyelashes at him. Bran is so fucking oblivious to their attention, but he’s also too polite for my liking and engages in any conversation people start. Why can’t he just give the ‘fuck off’ vibe I’m notorious for?

Because he’s such a Prince Charming, that’s why. I have to work at not being murderous or entertaining kidnapping thoughts whenever I see him exchanging pleasantries with others.

This little girl is a new situation, though. Especially since she’s immune to my superior glares.

She leans in to whisper something in Bran’s ear, and he listens attentively before he whispers something back.

The girl releases an exasperated sigh. “But why? You’re like a prince from the fairy tales.”

“I am?”

“Totally.”

Okay, that’s enough.

“Hey, kid.” I pull Bran up and wrap my arm around his waist. “He’s my prince. Back off.”

“Nikolai!” He elbows me. “You’ll scare her. Stop it.”

“Shoo.” I wave her away.

“Nikolai!”

“Hmph.” She hikes a hand on her hip. “When I grow up, I’m going to marry him.”

“Dream on.”

Bran has dug a hole in my side by now.

“Nour!” an older woman calls as she hurries toward us, panting. “What did I say about running off…?”

She stops in front of us and stares, unlike all of Bran’s precious Londoners. He pulls away from me, and although it’s subtle, I don’t like it. But then again, many people are homophobic assholes, though I haven’t encountered that here and I’m thankful, not for my sake, but for Bran’s. I don’t give a fuck what people think, he does.