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

That’s just impossible.

I suspect he’d rather keep this going for years instead of finally being honest with himself. Not that I care. Once I graduate, I’ll be back to my life in New York and he’ll return to being the prim-and-proper London boy.

“What a coincidence,” Glyn says after she finally breaks apart from Kill.

He taps her nose. “You really think it’s a coincidence? Looks like I have a lot more to teach you, baby.”

Kill. You evil genius.

So he knew she was in this coffee shop with Bran all along, which is why he insisted we grab coffee here.

It’s nice to know I have a successful stalker cousin. Some might say it runs in the family since I’m pretty sure I caught Gareth stalking a Mercedes the other day and he used one of the bodyguards’ cars for the mission.

What’s not nice, however, is the fact that he also uses baby. Couldn’t pick another nickname?

I steal a glance at Bran, and he’s busy staring at his coffee as if searching for an answer to the fucking universe. Black, no sugar like his soul.

He’s interlinking his fingers, letting them rest on his lap and I rest my hand on my thigh, close to his, and inch closer, getting high on the warmth emanating off him.

Fuck me. He’s intoxicating.

I simply can’t exist in his vicinity and stop myself from touching him.

It’s torture.

“How are you, Niko?” Glyn asks me with an easy grin.

Sometimes, it’s hard to think of her as Bran’s sister. Though they do look like siblings, she’s more carefree than he’ll ever be. She acts spontaneously while he counts his every step. Every word. Every action. Like a psycho.

Except when my body talks to his, of course. That’s when I get the uncut version of my lotus flower.

“Nikolai,” Killian says. “His name is Nikolai.”

“But I love Niko,” I say with a smile.

To give Bran credit, he pretends that I didn’t say a word as he sips from his coffee. However, I can see his hand twitching on his thigh.

“Right?” Glyn says. “It’s much easier to call him Niko instead of Nikolai. Don’t be jealous, Kill.”

“Yeah, don’t be jealous, cousin. Glyn and I are friends, right?”

“Uh-huh.” She grins and I wink at her.

I swear I catch Bran glaring at me from my peripheral vision, but when I look at him, he’s busy watching his coffee.

“Watch it, Niko,” Kill threatens in mock calm. “You’re digging your own grave.”

“Let me search for the fucks I have to give.” I pretend to check my pockets and then produce two middle fingers. “Oh, here you go.”

Glyn bursts out laughing, Killian is nowhere near amused, and Bran is still lost in his phone.

Christ. His mental door-slam game is strong.

“So what were you doing here before we interrupted you?” I ask Glyn.

“Nothing much. Bran and I love to catch up.”

“You must be close,” I say and feel Bran stiffen beside me.

“We are,” she says with glee. “We’re a team against Lan.”

“We’re not against Lan.” He speaks for the first time, voice calm and clear like an unmovable mountain. “He’s our brother.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t act like one.”

“This is not the time or place for this discussion,” he says point-blank, and although he sounds composed, there’s a firm edge beneath it.

Hearing him speak in that tone is how I figured out his kind image is just that—an image. He’s actually a bit controlling. Okay, a lot. Neurotically so.

He acts like he’s okay with everything, but deep down, he tries to manipulate the situation so it works the exact way he wants it to. He’s picky, standoffish, and meticulous. Difficult and grumpy, too. The quiet ones are the fucking scariest.

“Whatever.” Glyn pouts. “You always try to give excuses for him anyway.”

“He’s my twin brother.”

“Yeah, okay.” She rolls her eyes and slurps aggressively from her cup as Kill strokes her shoulder.

I see an opportunity and I sure as fuck take it. Since the lovebirds are busy, I plant my hand on Bran’s and he goes still, his hand slightly trembling beneath mine.

He’s so fucking warm that I can’t help threading my fingers through his, digging the pads in his thigh.

Bran goes still, and here’s the thing; he doesn’t try to push me away. So I go further, stroking his skin with my thumb, trying and failing not to get turned on by a mere stolen touch in public.

I really love how his hand is big but still slightly smaller than mine. It’s perfect size. He is perfect in every physical aspect. Anyone who says otherwise is clearly a blind fucking idiot.

Glyn looks up and Bran subtly pulls his hand free and shoves mine away then grabs his phone, building that wall around himself.

Not so fast.

I pull out my phone and text him.

Me



You’re not paying me any attention, baby. I’m jealous of Kill and Glyn.





He reads it immediately and I can see him glaring at his phone as if it’s my face.

Bran



Go away.





Me



Aww, but I don’t want to.