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

“Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m not sober enough for your games, Killian.”

“We’re really flying. Oh my God, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m calling the police. Can we call the police from the air? Hello, officer, I’m being kidnapped by a crazy psycho.”

“I can’t believe Annika gave you my passport. You threatened her, didn’t you?”

“I don’t even like flying. It’s scary. I didn’t call Grandpa first. What if I never talk to him again?”

“If I die, I’ll turn into a scary ghost and haunt the hell out of you, prick. I’ll live in your nightmares.”

“Gareth, do something!”

That, in a nutshell, was the word vomit Glyndon graced us with during the flight. Her sense of panic grew with every minute and so did her imagination.

I had to stop her after she asked Gareth for help. Because fuck that guy.

He should’ve chosen not to join us. So what if he was supposed to go back home on his own and even asked Nikolai for his private jet? And yes, I might have hijacked his flight, but still, he goes back all the time. He could’ve let us have the plane all to ourselves.

The jet is spacious enough to fit a small army with all their equipment. The comfortable chairs are made of high-quality leather and are spacious enough to fit two people.

Uncle Kyle bought this baby as a gift for Aunt Rai on one of their anniversaries, and Nikolai kinds of steals it whenever he needs to fly home—and Gareth, in retrospect.

Not me, because I only go back to the States in the summer.

Knowing his presence is unwanted, Gareth lounges on a seat by the window a few rows ahead of us, buds in ear and a tablet in hand.

I’m by the window while Glyndon is beside me, her pupils dilated and her lips puffed out and parted. But since she’s a slippery rabbit, she still cranes her head to watch the scenery, despite her obvious aerophobia.

She’s been stiff, had multiple freak-out sessions, and drove herself to the point of panic in only the half hour since we departed. And while focusing on her has been dulling my thoughts about where we’re going, I don’t like seeing her like this.

The good thing is that the fear and a cup of coffee have sobered her up a little.

She’s still a bit drunk, judging by the slow blinking and the glittering in her bright green eyes.

“Stop looking out the window if you’re so scared.”

“What if we fall, like nosedive straight into the ocean. We’ll all die, be eaten by sharks, and they might never find us. It’ll hurt so bad.”

“Actually no, we’re over twenty thousand feet up, so if we do fall from this height, the g-force of it will black us out in about twenty seconds. The good news is, you’ll feel nothing. Bad news, there will be no remains to recuperate since the power of the crash will disintegrate us and the body of the plane.”

She finally wrenches her attention from the window to stare at me as if I murdered her favorite puppy. “Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Depends on whether or not you stop thinking we’ll crash. Those aren’t really common.”

“But they happen.”

“Then think of this as your last battle cry. Wanna have one final fuck?”

“You’re not funny.” She swallows. “Flights really make me nervous. It’s why I make Cecily and Ava drive with me all the way from London to the island.”

“That’s because your head is in the wrong place. Instead of focusing on the crash and the plane, you need to occupy your time with something else.”

“Like what?”

“Get on my lap.”

“I’m not in the mood for sex, Killian.”

“I won’t fuck you.”

“Really?”

“Really. Gareth could hear your loud sounds of pleasure and then I’d have to throw him out of the plane. So come here.”

She hesitates for a beat before she stands up, then stops. “You just said it. Gareth is right there.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t touch you.” I grab her wrist and pull her so her legs are spread out on my thighs.

Then I wrap my arms around her middle, stroking the skin beneath her top in slow circles.

She stares at me for a beat, her breathing slowly calming down. So I kiss her forehead, enjoying the shiver that goes through her body.

“Better?”

“Yeah.” She sulks. “But I still don’t want to talk to you.”

“You can still use my body heat to calm down.”

“You’d allow yourself to be used?”

“By you? Absolutely.” And I mean that shit. If this woman asks me to cut my chest open and show her the organ she’s asked for, I’d rip it from its tendons and lay it at her feet.

All the other bullshit she asked for won’t be happening, though.

It’s simply impossible.

Her neck reddens, and I swear she’s blushing, probably touched, but then she lets her loathsome mouth take over. “Still doesn’t give you the right to kidnap me.”

“Didn’t you want more from me? I’m taking you to meet my parents.”

Her gaze strays sideways, and I hate it when she breaks eye contact. I have to see her all the time, and she’s never shied away from me, so when she breaks our connection, I feel a weird sense of loss.

As if feeling the change, her gaze slowly meets mine again. “How many have you tried this trick on?”

“You’re the first.”

“Am I supposed to feel special that I beat all the girls—and apparently boys?”

“Five out of five highly recommended, and don’t be homophobic. Doesn’t look well with the rest of your morals.”

“Homophobia has nothing to do with this. I’m just thinking if maybe I’ll find you with a man or a woman in bed in the future.”

“Probably both at the same time.” When she pales, I add. “That was a joke.”

“I thought you don’t joke.”

“I do with you.”

She places a hand on my shoulder, probably for balance, but I choose to think that she also wants to be touching me in some way—the way I am with her.

“Are you bisexual?”

“Nikolai is.”

“And you? Are you attracted to men?”

“Not really. I was attracted to any holes available. Gender didn’t matter.”

“Was?”

“It’s been months since I didn’t care for sex in general, whether with men or women. They were all getting repetitive, bland, and painfully dull.”

“Until you found me,” she whispers.

“Until I found you. On the top of that cliff, you looked so innocent and naive, I wanted to tarnish you in some way, ruin that apparent innocence and see what was behind it.”

“Aren’t you the romantic one?”

“You think?”

“I give up.” She releases a sigh. “I obviously can’t win with you.”

If only she knew how wrong that statement is. It’s more like I haven’t been able to win ever since she came into my life.

My fingers thread in her hair and she closes her eyes, not wanting to enjoy the strokes, but doing so anyway.

“You don’t smoke anymore,” she announces out of the blue.

“I said I’d quit if you’d keep my lips and hands occupied, and I keep my word, baby.”

“You…really quit because of me?”

“Sure did. Second-hand smoke is a serious threat to your health.”

“You’re more of a serious threat to my health.”

“Too bad you can’t quit me.”

“You never know. Maybe one day I’ll find a better man.”

“I’m the only man you’ll have, so get used to it and stop provoking me.” I stroke her hair. “Go to sleep, little rabbit. We have about seven hours to land.”

One more reason why I don’t go home.

I expect her to fight, but she bends her legs so they’re on my lap and rests her head on my chest.

It’s one of the few times she’s let go without starting drama about being in my company. She says that she wants more, but how can she not see that I’ve been fighting more battles than I signed up for ever since she came along?

“It’s unfair that you feel so safe,” she grumbles as her body relaxes in my hold, and her breaths even out as she falls into a slumber. My nose strokes her hair, breathing in the raspberries mixed with alcohol and I also let myself fall asleep.

Because she feels safe, too.

The echo of voices swirls around my head like the buzzing of bees.

“Jesus Christ, Glyndon. That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

My eyes fly open and the first thing I notice is that the weight on top of me is gone and I’m hugging a pillow instead.

Real smooth.

That little rabbit must’ve put the pillow there so I wouldn’t feel the emptiness and wake up right away.

But that’s not the emergency here. It’s Gareth groaning while calling Glyndon’s name.

I lift my head and I have no fucking clue what to name the fucking feeling when I find them sitting around a table a few seats ahead, playing fucking Uno.

But I know it’s too similar to damn relief.

This isn’t even funny anymore. I’m constantly on the edge of murder because of this woman, and the worst part is that she’s the one who’s stopping my demons from acting out.

The screen over my seat indicates that we have about three more hours to land.

“You didn’t tell me about this rule before.” She clutches the cards close to her chest. “You can’t just invent new ones.”

“I’m not inventing.” He shows her the rules card. “It’s right here.”

“Uh, how about a no? You’re cheating!”

“Because you’re losing?”

“I could totally win if you didn’t start inventing rules left and right.”

“For the millionth time, they’re right here. Just admit defeat and move on. Where’s your sports spirit?” Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Not in the building. Sorry, I mean freaking plane. Come on, just roll with it, would you?”

He smiles, and I clench my fists, and it’s due to a lot of reasons. The first is that I thought he’d forgotten how to actually smile without faking it.

Oh, and how fucking comfortable Glyndon is in his presence.

He of all people must’ve realized that she’s my weakness now, the spot he can hit to get to me, and knowing Gareth, he will. Without mercy.

Not that I blame him, but I would impale him before he could even lay a finger on her.

Forcing my agitation down, I walk toward them with the nonchalance of a bored demon.

I sit on Glyndon’s armrest and plant a hand on her shoulder. “What are we playing?”

Gareth starts to lower his cards. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

That’s right, big bro. Take a fucking hike.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she tells him. “You don’t need to leave just because Killian is here. Let’s continue.”

This little—

“And you go sit on a chair and don’t spy on my cards.” She hides them against her chest, glaring up at me like a mama bear.

Hmm. Now, I’m wondering why I didn’t strap her to me earlier.

Gareth keeps his cards, and I have no choice but to take the seat next to Glyn, because I’m sure as fuck going to play and beat these two.

They end up ganging up on me, cheating and using every trick under the sun to make me lose.

But I’m the founder of the ethically black school they tried to enroll in, so I end up winning anyway. Three times in a row.

Glyndon throws her cards on the small table. “Ugh, this is no fun. Do you have to win every round?”

“How else would he be a dickhead?”

“Don’t be sore losers, doesn’t look nice.” I grin.

“Oh, screw you.” She releases a breath. “We should play a round just the two of us, Gareth.”

“Request denied,” I say.

“Well, you just keep winning. The game becomes boring that way.”

“Never mind him. Killer just doesn’t physically recognize the term holding back, especially when he’s jealous. This is him being territorial to prove a point.”

“I’m going to kill you,” I mouth, and he just smiles, a fake-ass one.

“Seriously?” Glyndon glares at me. “You’re being a complete bloody wanker for some baseless jealousy?”

“We’ll see how baseless it is when my dear big bro is floating in the air.”

“Stop threatening people’s lives just because you can, Killian. And this is your brother, so how about you treat him as such instead of like some enemy?” She points a finger at me. “Also, either you play normally or you’ll lose all privileges to ever play with us.”

I consider whether I want to kiss the fuck out of her or choke her right now. Probably both at the same time.

Gareth raises a brow. “Looks like you’ve finally met your match. Mom and Dad will love her.”

“Are you sure?” Glyndon gathers the cards, her tone awkward. “He didn’t tell me beforehand, so I couldn’t even change into appropriate clothes.”

“What’s wrong with your current clothes?” I steal a switch card, because no, I’m definitely not letting them win anytime soon.

“You don’t get opinion rights.” She makes a face, then grabs my hand, reaches under my sleeve, and snatches back the card I stole. “And no cheating. Seriously, can’t you take a chill pill?”

“I do, when I’m fucking your brains out. Wanna go to the bathroom?”

“Too much information,” Gareth says.

“You can always leave, and go back to your nerdy activities.”

“No and no, and did I mention no?” Glyndon says in a mocking voice even though her neck is red. “Now, let’s play.”

Gareth manages to win once, only because Glyndon actually searched my pants for the stolen cards.

To say she’s become bold is an understatement. And it’s definitely not because I’m taking it easy on her.

She’s just growing more into herself and into this wrecking force that’s coming after my life.

By the time we prepare to land, she manages to win and rubs it in our faces and gloats until we think she’ll do it till kingdom come.

“Feels good to be a winner.” She fastens her seatbelt at the flight attendant’s call.

I tighten it further around her waist. “You actually won the least between the three of us and only because you stole more cards than we could.”

“I’m sorry, what? I can’t hear you over the victory fireworks in my head.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Stop being adorable before I fuck you right here, right now.”

“Don’t do that,” she whisper-yells. “Ugh. I can’t stop remembering that many airplane crashes happened while trying to land.”

“Then I guess you should hold my hand, hmm?” I offer her my palm and she takes it, threading her fingers through mine and tucking it in her lap.

Full-blown satisfaction fills my system at the thought of being her anchor.

It isn’t some Prince Charming, a boring type, or another man.

Me.

The feeling of complete euphoria slowly dulls down with the reminder of where we’re going.

Fucking home.

It’s strange how the mind categorizes events and shoves them into boxes of archives. Some are forgotten after a day or a week.

Others stay there forever. In fact, they slip into subconsciousness and make sure they’re never forgotten.

My family home on the outskirts of New York City is a modern mansion that could tick the dream house checklist of most Americans. It even has the white fence cliché my mother probably dreamt of when she was young.

It’s huge, personalized to the smallest detail, and fit to be the home of Asher and Reina Carson. As in, the American king and queen who instantly become the talk of every media outlet the moment they’re in public.

In this house, I’ve had everything people would consider happy memories. A loving mother, a present father—more than need be—birthday parties, running around like headless chickens with Gareth, Nikolai, Mia, and Maya.

And my awakening by hunting and killing those mice.

People tend to romanticize the past, I don’t. Because those memories? They’re nothing more than yellowed pages in an old forgotten book.

The only thing I remember from this house is Mom’s terrified expression, Dad’s frown, and eventually his ‘we shouldn’t have had Killian’ and ‘he’s defective’ words.

Leaving for college was the best thing that ever happened to me. I needed to stay out of Dad’s orbit, away from the constant ticking bomb that goes off in my head whenever he’s in sight.

So the last place I want to be in is his house.

But since I’m proving a point to the infuriating little shit Glyndon, here we fucking go.

She remains a step behind us, getting distracted by watching the house with her inquisitive eyes.

And yes, she definitely made us stop by a shop so she could change into a floral dress, smooth her hair and makeup, and buy a gift.

“My parents taught me to never go into someone’s home empty-handed,” she said when I told her the gift was unnecessary.

A small sound of tap, tap reaches us first before a model-like woman with the shiniest blonde hair appears, coming down the stairs.

Mom’s smile is the most contagious thing I’ve ever seen. Usually, other people’s emotions don’t matter to me. Yes, I can discern them, can even understand them when their owners can’t, but I don’t give a fuck about them.

Reina Ellis Carson is the exception to that.

And now, Glyndon is, too.

Mom wraps both Gareth and me in a hug, her head resting on our shoulders. She’s shorter than us, so we have to lower ourselves to pat her back so she doesn’t have to strain, or worse, dangle between us.

No kidding, she did that once.

“I missed you so much!” She pulls back to run her hand over our bodies. “Let me look at you. Did you get taller or what? I can’t believe this. Next time, I’ll get a staircase to reach you. Ahh, my boys are back home together. I couldn’t believe it when Gareth told me earlier.”

She hugs us again and I share a look with my brother.

Here we go again.

After basically strangling us for five minutes, she finally notices Glyndon, who has tried her best to remain in the background during Mom’s welcome home ceremony.

I didn’t think it possible, but Mom’s expression brightens further. “And you are?”

“Hello. My name is Glyndon.” She offers her a wrapped present. “Thank you for having me.”

“Oh, thank you. You’re so sweet and well-mannered.” Mom accepts her present. “You’re with…”

“Me.” I wrap an arm around her waist and bring her to my side. “She’s my girl.”

“The one who got your lips bruised the other time?”

“The one and only.” It wasn’t due to making out, but I was that way because of a fight I did for her, so it counts.

“W-what?” Glyndon asks with enough awkwardness to redden her neck.

“It’s nothing.” Mom feigns innocence. “I’m so glad Killian is finally bringing someone home. I thought he’d die alone. Don’t get me wrong, I know he sleeps around, but it’s never just one person and I was worried it’d come back and bite him in the ass.”

“Mom!” I throw a questioning hand up.

“What? You know you’re allergic to monogamy. Or were before you met this beautiful young lady.” Her expression becomes serious. “If he gives you trouble, let me know and I will use my mother’s privileges to knock some sense into his head.”

“Thanks, I’ll definitely do that.”

“So you’re ganging up on me now? Traitors, both of you.”

Mom just flips her hair. “We girls have to stick up for each other, right, Glyn? Can I call you Glyn?”

“Yeah, sure. And I agree about sticking up for each other.”

“Dad.”

My good mood slowly dissipates as Gareth closes the distance to the stairs and meets Dad for a bro hug.

Sometimes, I like to think of him as my stepfather. The man who married Mom and fathered Gareth, but he doesn’t give a shit about the other man’s son—me.

Of course, it’s all imaginary, because I sure as shit did a DNA test to make sure we are, in fact, related by blood and genetics. Unfortunately, Mom loves the man too much to cheat on him.

He’s dressed in a dark gray suit that highlights his physique, even at his age. And yes, he probably was out working on a Saturday again, even though he usually thinks weekends are a sacred time for his family.

His dark hair is styled with some white peeking out at the sides. Other than that, he’s definitely aging well. Better than Grandpa, that’s for sure.

After hugging his favorite son, he nods at me. “Kill.”

I nod back. “Dad.”

“To what do we owe this visit?” he asks with little to no emotion.

I wonder if I’ll be like him when I grow up. Completely blank and cold to the point of icing the whole atmosphere.

Or maybe I’m doing it just fine at my current age.

“Didn’t you say to come over next time Gareth does?” I match his tone. “I’m over.”

“Watch it,” he warns, his voice nonnegotiable.

That’s where he’s different from Gareth. My brother either avoids or ignores my provocations, Dad doesn’t allow a single one of them.

Not even a hint of passive aggressiveness.

Mom smiles in a poor attempt to kill the tension permeating the air. “Ash, look who Kill brought over. His girlfriend.”

“Hi, I’m Glyndon,” she says with more awkwardness than when she was introducing herself to Mom. And maybe, just maybe, she can feel the tension radiating off me.

“You look familiar…” Dad trails off. “You don’t happen to be a King, do you?”

“I am.” She smiles a little, some of the tension withering away. “My dad’s name is Levi King.”

“How are you related to Aiden?”

“He’s my uncle. Well, technically, he’s Dad’s cousin, but we’ve always considered him an uncle.”

“I see.” He remains silent for a bit. “You seem like a good person, so I don’t see why you’re with my son. Unless he threatened you?”

“Asher!” Mom’s cheeks redden and any attempts to salvage this fucked-up family gathering fly out the window.

“You know he’s very well capable of that. I will not have an innocent girl from a prestigious family caught in his web and not do something about it.”

Gareth frowns, probably hating that I came with him. It couldn’t be because of what his role model said.

I take a step forward, ready to have the showdown Dad and I should’ve had a long time ago. I don’t even think about how Mom will be devastated. I’ll console her later.

But Glyndon clutches my hand in hers and threads our fingers together. Her voice is clear when she speaks. “He didn’t threaten me. I want to be with him, and I did have a chance to leave him when my brother intervened, but I chose not to.”

My chest tightens and I don’t know what type of feeling this is. All I know is that want to kiss the fuck out of her.

“Are you sure that’s the wisest choice?” Dad continues as if he’s grilling the opposition in court.

“Asher, enough.” Mom uses her stern voice. “It’s such a rare occurrence to have Kill home and we are not going to turn this into an argument.” She beams at Glyndon. “You guys must be tired and hungry. How about you rest while I make lunch?”

“No, please let me help.” Glyndon gives me a reassuring glance, then her fingers release mine and she leaves with Mom.

“We’ll talk later,” Dad tells me under his breath before he and Gareth follow after them.

I predicted this, but now, I’m sure.

I fucking hate home.