God of Malice: A Dark College Romance (Legacy of Gods Book 1)

It takes me a few moments to put my clothes together. My fingers tremble and my body temperature doesn’t seem to get the memo that the fun times are over.

Killian has already tucked himself in, looking as flawless as the devil and just as hedonistic.

Seeming to notice my struggle, he subtly pushes my hand away and glides my bra over my breasts.

“I must say, I prefer undressing you.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you’re starting to know me better.”

“You say that as if it’s a privilege.”

“It’s not?”

“No. I’m only learning about you to know how to deal with you.”

“Smart little rabbit.” He lets the straps snap against my shoulders, his voice lowering. “Fucking red.”

My stomach tightens, instantly reacting to the change of his tone.

I stare at him from beneath my lashes as he continues putting my clothes together. But no matter how much I look, I can’t really read his expression. He’s the worst enigma to ever walk the earth, and I find myself wondering about what he’s thinking at times like these.

He definitely isn’t thinking about whatever emotional implications of his actions, considering he lacks emotions, and seems happy with the fact.

He owns that part of him, takes pride in it, and uses it to do depraved acts like the hunt tonight.

Like knocking out those people and tracking me as if I were an animal.

Would I ever feel like more than an animal in his presence? And what can I do to make him lose interest? If Eli and Lan are any indication, then his type has a short attention span for everything.

Unless we’re talking about Eli when it comes to Ava.

Or Lan when it comes to sculpting.

But those obsessions started fairly young for both Eli and Lan. They basically grew with their personalities, so they can’t be compared to Killian’s sudden fixation on me.

He’ll eventually get bored and move on to some other unfortunate soul.

He has to.

Or else I’m completely and utterly doomed.

“What are you thinking about?” His smooth voice swirls around me as he hooks his fingers against the edge of my top and tugs me against him. I’m starting to realize he likes to constantly touch me in some way.

“An effect Cecily once mentioned.”

“And what is that?”

“Have you ever heard of the suspension bridge effect? It’s when people experience psychological responses related to fear, but they mislabel them as romantic arousal. The actual term is called misattribution of arousal, I think.”

His fingers stroke the skin of my stomach in a circular motion, and he hums, “Let me guess. Your busy little brain was thinking of that as a way out of actually wanting me?”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t want you. I told you. My reaction to you is probably me misjudging fear and anxiety as arousal. Think about it. Every time you touched me, I was scared in some way.”

The more I talk about it, the more it makes sense. There’s no way I’d willingly want this bastard who lacks a human bone in his body.

“Aren’t you the smart one?” He pulls on my top and I crash against his chest with a yelp. He lifts his other hand and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture seems to be doting but feels threatening. “So what if it is fear? The point is that you want me.”

“It’s not real. It’s an illusion.”

“If that makes you sleep better at night, let’s say it is.”

“I could want someone else if I feel scared in their presence or see them after being scared.”

“Believe me, little rabbit, that won’t be happening. Not unless you want some splashes of his blood on this flawless skin. Though I’m sure it’d look pretty, don’t you think?”

I shudder, trying and failing to prevent that image from forming in my head. This wanker knows all the right buttons to push.

“You really don’t care that I don’t want you for you as a person?” I realize that I’m provoking him, and I don’t know what’s come over me. I just know that a weird sense of courage has grabbed hold of me today.

I’m no longer the scaredy-cat Glyn—that didn’t get me anywhere—so I might as well embrace the change.

“You don’t want me as a person, huh?”

“No. You’re not my type.”

He pauses before stroking my stomach again. “And what’s your type?” Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Someone nice.”

“I can be nice.”

“Yeah, right.”

His voice lowers to a shiver-inducing range. “I gave you time like you asked, and it was a stretch on my part since, and I repeat, I am not a giver. So if that’s not considered nice, maybe I should retract my promise and be the opposite of nice.”

“Don’t…” This arsehole is a major headache. I can never win against him.

“Does that mean I’m nice?”

“You can be,” I mutter.

“Look at that. I’m suddenly your type.” I glare up him and I’m met with a low chuckle. “You’re so adorable, I could eat you up.”

“I’m not edible.”

“Judging by the taste of your sweet little cunt, you most definitely are.”

Heat rises to my neck and ears and it takes everything in me to keep staring into his gleaming eyes. The bastard is enjoying this. Probably way too much.

“I’m surprised you haven’t gotten yourself killed due to how infuriating you are.” I huff.

He kisses the top of my head. “That’s because I know how to fight.”

“Can we go?” I start to step away from him and he surprisingly lets me go.

I quicken my steps down the path and he catches up to me, mask around his neck. He picks the bat up from the ground and swings it onto his shoulder.

My heart tightens when I make out the smudges of blood on the wood.

“Do you know if the people you hurt are okay?”

“They should be.”

“Does that mean they could not be?”

“Probably.”

“And…you’re not going to do anything to make sure?”

“Why should I? Jeremy and Nikolai’s guards will take care of it.”

“You…really wouldn’t care if you hurt someone fatally?”

“Again, why? They willingly signed up for this.”

“What if it was me you sent flying with your bat?”

“I didn’t.”

“What if you had?”

He tilts his head to the side, a sudden dullness making his eyes muted. “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

The thought of holding absolutely no meaning to him makes my blood turn cold, but at the same time, it’s better if I don’t, right? I’ll just hate him more and I definitely need to deepen those feelings.

So I nod.

“I wouldn’t have hit you in the first place, because I would have recognized you.”

“What if you did accidentally? In the middle of your violence spree?”

“Using violence doesn’t mean losing my head, so I still would’ve recognized you.”

“What if one of your other friends had hit me?”

“I would’ve put my med student status to use and nursed you back to health. It might have turned kinky like some cheap porn’s plot right afterward, though.”

“Does everything has to revolve around sex with you?”

“Hmm. Good question.” He tilts his head in my direction. “I think that’s only the case when it comes to you.”

“Because you want my virginity?”

“There’s that, but it’s not the sole reason.”

“What is then?”

“You’re not ready for it yet.”

His tone suggests that he’s done with this topic and will probably ignore any further questions.

But I need to keep him talking.

We’re getting so close to the finish line and I still have a chance to win this.

“Are you not going to hunt anymore?” I ask.

“You distracted me. How are you going to take the responsibility for my losing?”

“I didn’t ask you to leave everyone else and follow me.”

“I couldn’t just let a stray little rabbit roam free. Besides, the urge is gone.”

“Urge?”

“The one I need to satiate with some form of stimuli. Usually, I’d be all in for the hunt, but today…you were surprisingly enough. Is that interesting or what?”

No, it’s downright horrifying. I don’t want to be his fixation or the catalyst to his madness.

I just don’t.

My fingers shake and I rub a palm on the side of my shorts.

“What did I say about that habit?”

My movement comes to a halt and I let my hands fall to my sides. Night has fallen and the dark stakes its claim, casting a nefarious energy over the forest. Under different circumstances, this would be a dreamy date.

With Killian, however, it feels like an episode of Hannibal. There’s always a fifty percent chance he’ll jump me and snuff out my life.

“Has anyone told you that you’re a tyrant?”

“You’re the first.”

“Guess they don’t see this side of you, then.”

“This side?”

“The controlling, oppressive side.”

“They do. It’s just more subtle with them. I don’t need to make that effort with you.”

“Because I’m easy prey?”

“Because you’re already acquainted with my type. It’d be a waste of resources and energy to try and fool you.”

The meaning behind his words hits me. He doesn’t have to hide in my presence.

I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. Being special to a borderline psychopath is about the worst position I could be in.

Yet, my chest swells at the thought that he has no need to hide in front of me.

I can trust that I’ll always see his uncut version. No matter how twisted or barren, it’ll always be true.

Even when he had the neon red mask on, he remained out in the open, not once attempting to hide.

“Should I celebrate the fact that I’m the only one you don’t feel the need to fool?”

“As long as your celebration ends with me between your legs, by all means.”

“Bloody prick.”

“Didn’t I say your cursing turns me on? Might want to tone down that a little unless you’re in the mood for round two of sucking my cock.”

“Is there anything that doesn’t turn you on?”

“You lying and coming up with psychological garbage to deny what we have definitely doesn’t. In fact, it pisses me the fuck off.”

A gust of wind causes the hairs on my nape to stand on end. This dark version of him makes me apprehensive to a point I’ve never felt before.

And yes, I totally lied earlier. The dark, unhinged side of Killian terrifies the fuck out of me.

Still, I manage to say, “We don’t have anything. We’re not in a relationship.”

He lifts a shoulder. “Whether it’s a relationship or not means jack shit to me. That label holds no importance.”

“Then what does?”

“The fact that you’re mine.”

“I’m n—” The word dies in my throat when he suddenly blocks my path, his eyes shining with venomous intent.

He slowly shakes his head. “Don’t finish that word unless you’re in the mood to anger me.”

I swallow the drool that gathered in my mouth, but my chin remains high. “You can’t force me to become yours.”

“Watch me.”

“I’ll fight every step of the way.”

“By all means. It’d make the end result sweeter.”

“I hate you.”

“Let me search for the fucks I have to give.” He pretends to study his surroundings. “See? None.”

I push past him and stomp for a while before I force myself to remain calm and walk normally.

Killian fucking Carson catches up to me—of course—and casually asks, “Why are you in a hurry? Shouldn’t you enjoy our second date?”

“Second what?”

“Date. It could be considered the third, but I have a feeling you don’t think of that first meeting on the cliff as a date.”

“No shit.”

“So that makes the firefly lake our first date and this one our second.”

“A date happens in a restaurant or a fun place where I wouldn’t feel on the edge every second.”

“Aren’t those the type of dates boring couples who have to fake orgasms for each other go to? Besides, you had fun both times. Don’t attempt denying it.”

“Oh yeah, being threatened all the time is so fun.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t acting difficult, so maybe you’re the one who’s blocking yourself from having fun.”

“I can’t believe this. So it’s my fault now?”

“I didn’t say that.” He grins. “You did.”

The audacity of this bastard is seriously out of this world. Just when I’m thinking about the best insult to come up with, we reach a clearing. A vast piece of land covered by grass comes into view and in the distance sits a small building.

The security building that if we reach, we win.

Killian doesn’t seem focused on that, and I suppress the feeling of desperation as we continue walking at a steady pace.

I’m pretty sure he can smell any change of emotions like some human dog. Just because he doesn’t feel emotions like the rest of us doesn’t mean he can’t recognize them or even understand them.

If there’s anything I’ve learned about Killian, it’s the fact that he’s a well-adjusted psychopath. He has immense impulse control, and is calculative to a fault.

There may have been a time in his past where he lost that control like Lan sometimes does, but they can both adapt so well to the circumstances and fuse themselves within society as if they belong.

And the more they live, the harder it is to reach inside their sturdy bubble. It’s more impossible to make them lose control once they’ve mastered it.

Since they’re constantly in control, they observe everything. Killian might seem detached, but he has hawk-like observational skills. Nothing escapes him.

So I try my best to remain nonchalant and tune out the sound of eliminated numbers being announced all around us.

“Who owns this place?” I ask, and do one heck of a job of sounding normal.

“We all do. It’s a gift from campus because our parents donate a shitload of money to the institution.”

“I assume the ‘we’ are you, Jeremy, Nikolai, and Gareth?”

“Correct.”

“Who’s the one behind the fifth mask?”

“No one you should concern yourself with.”

“Do you always dance around the subject when you don’t want to answer the question?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, why should I be?”

I steal a peek at the building in front of us. Two meters. No, probably one and a half.

Killian stops, but I pretend not to noticed and continue ahead. Yes, the members of the group are monstrous, judging by what I witnessed today, but I’m done being scared and hiding.

If I’m in their inner circle, I’ll be able to figure out what happened to Devlin and—

Something touches my shoulder and I freeze as the speaker echoes around us, “Number sixty-nine eliminated.”

I swing back to stare at Killian, who just tapped me with his bat.

“You think I haven’t figured out what you’re up to, little rabbit?”

“Why…you…you…”

“Deep breaths.” The amusement in his voice pisses me the hell off. “That’s it. We don’t want you to somehow have a stroke when you’re this young.”

“Why have you waited until now to eliminate me?”

He lifts a shoulder. “It was fun watching you trying to distract me and acting like an amateur in a B-class spy movie. You should look at your adorable face.” He retrieves his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture. “Now, I’ll keep this expression with me forever.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“I’ll kiss you in the meantime.”

I’m about to grab his stupid bat and lunge it at his head when the door of the security house opens behind me.

“Killer!”

Wait, what? A killer?

It takes me a second to realize that the feminine voice was directing that nickname at Killian.

A tall, slim figure steps out, wearing white mask number one. Straight blonde hair falls to her bare shoulders and she’s wearing a skin-tight strapless top that accentuates her hourglass waist.

She pulls the mask away from her face and I freeze at how stunning she is. Like a model or an actress or both.

And when she smiles, it’s so blinding that I have trouble looking directly at her.

She subtly pushes me away and throws herself at Killian, wrapping her arms around his neck with the ease of someone who’s done this countless times.

“I missed you,” she murmurs, and then her lips meet his.