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

Whenever he kisses me, I feel like I’m losing a piece of myself that I’ll never recuperate. And yet I can’t help sinking my fingers into his hair, moaning in his mouth, gliding my tongue against his, sucking, biting, and forgetting.

For one moment, I forget and let myself get lost in the dream.

He pulls his mouth from mine and I have to physically stop myself from chasing his tongue and hooking it against mine.

Nikolai gives my bottom lip one last tug before he releases it and pushes off me, his finger teasing my nipple on his way up. “I’ll be right back, baby. Don’t move.”

My head turns to the side, watching his inked back muscles flexing, his hair messed up from how much I pulled and fisted the inky strands.

Somewhere in the center of my chest aches.

Why the fuck is he so beautiful and why am I…this attracted to him?

Wasn’t I supposed to be broken?

I stare at the white platform ceiling for a few seconds, but then as the pleasure haze disappears, I blink away my confusion and sober up.

My legs barely carry me as I stand up and snatch my clothes, then put them on awkwardly as I jog to the lift.

I pause inside, my forefinger hovering over the yellow ground-floor button, and then I do what I’ve done my entire life.

Run away. Deny. Pretend.

Nausea rushes up my throat when I push the button.

As the door closes, my fingers find the hairs at the back of my head and I pull, but no amount of pain drowns out the sense of loss crawling up my limbs.





I couldn’t sleep last night.

For the first time in eight fucking years, I didn’t get a wink of sleep.

Not one.

I tossed and turned, took three cold showers, drank more herbal tea than in Victorian England, and went to my studio, but nothing helped to put me down.

I even jammed my Swiss Army knife in my arm, but the sharp point only caused a small cut and the blood that dripped out didn’t manage to chase away the ink that swallowed me up to my waist, murdering any form of pleasure I’d experienced the previous night.

What makes you think you can enjoy anything when you’re fucking defective?

Despite those thoughts and the black face in the mirror. Despite the blood that rushed out of me and the strokes of red on my canvas, I can’t help the jolt of hope or the simmering expectation that envelops me as I step out of the mansion and snap my usual picture.

I wasn’t going to bother with the AirPods since Nikolai always removes them, sometimes not so nicely, but if I don’t wear them, then he’ll think it’s because of him.

Isn’t that the case?

I ignore the voice in my head as I put the music on pause, my heart beating faster the farther I get from the mansion.

This is the first time I’ve been excited about something and desired it with every fiber of my being. So much so that it’s starting to freak me out.

The first time I’ve considered taking the pain as long as I get the pleasure first.

At least, for a while.

My feet come to a halt when a large figure cuts in front of me and I remain still as he plucks both AirPods from my ears.

Nikolai is shirtless, which isn’t anything new. What is new, however, is the savage look in his eyes. His tone comes out sarcastic, though. “A very good day to you, lotus flower. Do you have anything to tell me?”

I swallow the dread that gathers in my throat as I speak in my calm voice. “No. Why should I?”

He takes a step forward and I take one back. If I don’t let him get close, everything will be fine.

Things only get worse after he touches me.

Nikolai stops and fingers his necklace, tugging on the bullet until I’m sure he’ll break the thing. “I clearly told you not to move last night, so why did you run away and ignore my texts?”

He texted? I’ve had my phone on Do Not Disturb since I got back to the house and only took it out to snap the picture just now. But before I can offer up the flimsy excuse, Nikolai runs his fingers through his loose hair.

“Your push-and-pull game was adorable the first few times, but you need to cut it out. Don’t make me do it for you. We both know my methods don’t agree with your proper manners.”

I suck in a deep breath. “Get out of my life, Nikolai.”

“The answer is no.”

“I want you gone.”

“It’s still no.”

“Do you have no pride?”

“What the fuck is that? Is it edible?”

I release an exasperated sound. “I don’t know why the hell you’re obsessed with me, but I’m telling you that it’s impossible. I’m not gay.”

He bursts out laughing, the sound scraping at the edges of my sanity, and I want to reach out to stop it, but I can’t move.

Shut up.

Shut the fuck up—

“Not gay?” he sneers at me. “Baby, you came three times on my hand, mouth, and fucking fingers. You choked on my cock and came because of a mere prostate fucking. If that isn’t gay, I don’t know what is.”

“Stop talking,” I grit out, trying to fight the pounding in my head.

I need to leave before he sees me for the ugly monster I actually am.

“What the—” He snatches my hand, and for a fraction of a second, I feel like the world is tilting back on its axis.

I inhale his mint scent and spit out disgusting nausea until my stomach settles back down.