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



Except for when it comes to a certain wanker.

She closes the distance between us and grabs my hand in hers, nude fake nails scraping against my skin. “It’s okay. We’ve been through this before, babe. It hurts that you went to someone else, but I can forgive you like you forgave me all those times.”

I push away her hand and step back. “I don’t need your forgiveness.”

“Do you like her that much? I can do a threesome if that’s what you want.”

Desperate is exceptionally annoying.

My tone is detached as I shake my head. “We’re breaking up, Clara.”

“You can’t do this shit to me!” She stomps her foot on the floor. “I’m not breaking up with you. This isn’t how it works.”

“This is exactly how it works. Please leave.” I push her toward the door and open it.

She stands in the hallway and screams, “No! I refuse this.”

“We’re done.”

She storms back inside, but she’s pulled out again by a handful of her hair and tossed aside like a sack of potatoes.

My brother glares down his nose at her. “You heard him. He said you’re done, so take the hint and escort your cheap presence off our property.”

My oldest cousin, Eli, who followed Lan—probably after they were plotting some chaos in my brother’s room—looks her up and down. “Pretty sure I’ve seen you before, but where?”

“I’ve been literally coming here for the past two years!” she screams, her high-pitched voice grating on my last nerve.

“Oh, right! You’re the help!”

“I’m not!”

He looks at Lan. “She’s not?”

“Of course not.” My brother makes a mock gasp. “The help has more grace than this cheap rug.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” I say, exasperated. “Just leave, Clara.”

“I don’t agree with the breakup. We’re still together.” She cowers under my brother’s and cousin’s menacing attention. “I’ll text you later, babe.”

“Don’t call me that,” I mutter, a migraine starting at the back of my head.

“What?” she asks, seeming lost.

“Don’t call me babe. I’m not your babe,” I say, clearer this time, and her eyes widen.

She starts to say something else, but Lan stands in front of me and pushes her away as if she’s a prop. “Off you go. Don’t show your face around my brother again or I’ll cut it to pieces.”

I want to reprimand him, but I’m glad his words finally propel her to move. She quickens her steps down the hall, tension rolling off her in waves.

“I’ll let you know if someone else needs help!” Eli shouts after her and then asks us, “She’s really not the help?”

“The degradation is unnecessary,” I say with a sigh.

Eli rolls his shoulder. He’s an inch taller than us and has dark hair and metal-gray eyes that excel at making people feel uncomfortable in their own skin.

Personality-wise, he’s similar to my brother and they share a destructive nature, which is why they get along, although they like to pretend otherwise. They have a lot of interests in common, including a chess game at our grandfather’s house that’s been going on for over a decade.

But where Landon is a show-off, Eli prefers to work in the shadows.

He’s still too antagonistic, though, which is why I prefer the company of his younger brother, Creigh. However, Eli has always been like a big brother to Lan and me. He made it his mission to protect us when we were growing up and he continues to do so.

Eli, Lan, and even Creigh are firm believers of the King name supremacy and consider an offense against one of its members as a declaration of war. It’s not that I don’t share the sentiment. More like, I never felt worthy of the superior last name.

Lan clutches my shoulder, a wicked grin painting his lips. “Congrats on kicking the bitch to the curb. For the love of Satan, don’t get back together with her. She’s not for you.”

“And how do you know what’s for me? Are you an expert?”

“Me, an expert? Nonsense. But you should at least be with someone who actually only has eyes for you.”

“Aww.” Eli wraps an arm around my other shoulder and squeezes me. “The help dared hurt my precious Bran? Why didn’t you mention that before so I could’ve gouged her eyes out and fed them to the dogs?”

“Maybe that’s why I didn’t,” I mutter. “I’m just going to sleep.”

“Hell no. We need to get you drunk to celebrate.” He clears his throat. “Rems!! Get the pints out!”

A few things are knocked over down the hall before a door is flung open and Remi peeks out, a Cheshire cat grin plastered on his face. “Did someone say pints?”

“Yeah, as much as you can find.” Eli squeezes me. “We’re giving Bran a Congrats for Dodging the Help’s Bullet party.”

“No clue what that is, but I’m in!” He jumps to the opposite room, wearing nothing but boxers, and kicks Creigh’s door open. “Wake up, spawn! We have a partaayyy.”

I’m dragged to the living room against my wishes for a celebration I want no part in. I’d rather paint for an hour or so until ten thirty.