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

“What do you mean?” I ask in a quiet voice.

“Did something happen recently that triggered this? Perhaps a stressful situation? An outcome you don’t approve of, maybe?”

Fuck.

I stroke my fingers over the bullet on my necklace, fast, uncoordinated.

“What is that something, son?” Dad asks cautiously.

“Someone. Maybe.”

“Who is it?”

“Not important,” I lie through my teeth, my movements turning jerkier and more out of control.

“In that case, get rid of them.”

The very foundation of my fucking sanity, or whatever remains of it, revolts against that idea.

“Nikolai. You need to promise me that you’ll get rid of whoever drove you to this state,” Dad says more firmly. “The key to keeping you in control is not to provoke you. If this person is doing that, they need to be gone.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You’ll do it?”

“Yeah.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, Dad. I promise.”

“Good.” He releases a breath. “I love you, son, and I’m glad you could confide in me.”

“Love you, too, Dad.” I hang up with a scowl.

He’s right. I should get rid of the provocation. Technically, Bran means nothing. So what if I want to fuck him? I wanted to fuck a lot of people before him and I’m sure I’ll go back to my old ways soon if I give myself time.

The only difference is that I’ve never wanted to make someone mine as much as I want to chain him the fuck up to me.

But I can remove him from my life.

I have to remove him, because Dad is right. He’s provoking me. I was supposed to get under his skin, but he’s the one spreading beneath mine like poison. It won’t be long before he reaches my heart and slams it to a halt.

His constant rejection and running away is messing with my head in ways I don’t approve of.

I’ve always kept things physical, but that’s far from being the case with Bran. I’m spending more time with him than I have with anyone, and I actually like it.

No. I love it.

I can’t imagine my days without seeing his face first thing in the morning and that little smile he hides so soon after spotting me.

He rejects me, and I keep going back for more like a junkie who needs a hit of the drug that’s sucking my life dry.

But this can’t go on anymore.

Throwing my phone on the bench, I storm out of the locker room and jog to the ring, where Kill is waiting.

The crowd roars to life as I jump in from between the ropes, wearing nothing but my black shorts, my necklace, and a few bandages.

“Welcome, princess.” Kill flashes me a vicious grin, running a bandaged hand over his naked chest and the band of his red shorts.

“You might want to fuck off, Kill,” I say over the pressure gathering in my head. “I could actually hurt you.”

“Show me what you got, Niko.”

I crack my neck, thankful for having a crazy motherfucker for a cousin. Like Jeremy, he knows how much I need this and will fight me whenever I’m in this fucked-up state of mind.

The referee announces the start of the match. My cousin circles me, but I don’t have time for that shit.

Hurt.

Maim.

Kill.

I pounce and punch him in the face so hard, he reels a few steps back. A collective gasp echoes from the crowd as blood drips on the mat.

My cousin wipes the side of his cut mouth, a bloodied grin slipping through. “That’s it, Niko. Unleash the fucking crazy.”

I pummel him, all thoughts disappearing from my head and replaced by pure, bloody violence.

Kill tries to defend himself and actually lands a few blows, but it’s of no use. I feel no pain in this mode. No fucking remorse or reprieve or the need to press down on the fucking brakes.

The only thing that saves him from me is the referee forcing us back to our corners. And even after that, Jeremy and Gareth jump into the ring and shove me away from him.

Gareth wipes the blood off his brother’s face, but Kill keeps grinning as if I’m not on the verge of murdering him.

Jeremy is also cleaning some of the blood that I didn’t know I had on me, but he has to stay in the ring because I’m not fucking sitting down or staying still.

I can’t.

My feet are moving of their own accord, my mind is racing, and my blood is pumping.

Let me back in there.

Let me back.

Fucking back!

“Niko!” Jeremy shakes my shoulders and I finally look at him through my hazy vision. “Maybe you should leave.”

“Fuck no.”

“You don’t look good, man.” He pauses, the silence punctured by all the fangirls—and fanboys—calling my name. “I don’t know how to describe it, but this is different from your other times. Maybe you should take the pills.”

“Fuck. No.”

“Fuck this, Nikolai.” Jeremy clutches me by the nape, nearly shoving my forehead against his. “I don’t care about the lowlifes you beat up this morning. Fuck those people. Fuck them, okay? But Kill is your cousin. He agreed to this because he saw you were struggling, but you’re beating him to a pulp.”

“He’s fucking enjoying it…”

I trail off when I feel an intense gaze at the back of my head. For a moment, I think Kill is letting his psycho demons loose so they can try to intimidate mine—and fail miserably—but no.