God of Wrath: A Dark Enemies to Lovers Romance (Legacy of Gods Book 3)

“Stop glaring.”

A soft voice whispers near my ear, and I’m surprised I’ve suppressed the urge to grab her by the hand and haul her the fuck out of this place.

At Cecily’s request, I’m here to meet her ‘friends’ at the pub they gather in. I’d rather have her all to myself. Meeting her parents two weeks ago and allowing her father to be a dick without any retaliation—aside from promising him that I’d take ‘good care’ of her in a suggestive tone—was the extent of my altruism.

However, I also needed to stake a claim on her in public, and what better place than among her group of friends?

That entailed actually telling my sister about my relationship with her friend. A few days ago, I invited my sister and her boyfriend, who I’m reluctantly accepting, for dinner at the Heathens’ mansion. While we were eating, Cecily joined us, and we broke the news.

Or I did by openly kissing her in front of a frowning Annika and a surprisingly calm Creighton.

There was a lot of shouting from Annika’s side. She also said things like ‘I knew it’ and ‘I’m so happy. You guys are an unlikely couple but look so perfect together.’ I was proud of raising that little hellion right, but that only lasted until she told Cecily to be careful because our lives are dangerous.

While that’s true, the warning was needless. Especially since Cecily has always been wary of that side of my life. She was even thankful I omitted that part when I spoke to her father about what Dad does for a living.

Back to the current meeting. Sorry, gathering. We’re sitting around a large table that has apparently been reserved for these guys. I have two allies. Annika—who can’t stop beaming and nudging Cecily—and Killian—who only showed up because he likes to think that he’s joined to his girlfriend at the hip.

Everyone else is just not a fan.

It’s mutual since I believe they’re annoying, too. Just saying. Especially that motherfucker clown Remi, whom Cecily caught me plotting the murder of for the sole reason that he makes her laugh.

I grab her hand in mine and place it on my lap under the table, then take a sip of my vodka with my free one. “I’m not glaring.”

“You are,” Killian says needlessly from my left.

“Whose side are you on, motherfucker?” I whisper under my breath.

“What type of question is that? No one’s, of course.” He leans in so only I can hear him. “I also think Remington is an overrated, annoying asshole, and I had the same murder plots you do, but remember that they actually like him, and any offensive action on our part will backfire, so whatever gratification we’ll get from erasing him is not worth it.”

“I know that. Which is why I’m only glaring.”

“See?” Cecily latches onto the last word. “You are glaring.”

“That’s his default,” Killian offers with an amicable grin that could land him a movie role or on a serial killer poster.

“Yeah,” Annika says from the other side of the table, all smiles, sunshine, and rainbows. I’m glad my sister is back. “Jer doesn’t mean to glare. That’s just his expression, I guess.”

“You’re his sister and due to a clear conflict of interest, you don’t get opinion rights, Anni.” Ava points her bottle of beer at her, then directs it at me with a narrowing of her eyes. “I still don’t trust you to treat my Cecy right.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. She’s my Cecy. Not yours.”

The table grows silent as Ava upgrades her expression to a full-on glare. “I’ve known her since we were like babies, and she’s been my bestie for two decades. That makes her my Cecy. Discussion closed.”

“Don’t you have a lot of besties?” I taunt her with the information I’ve gathered about her. “In fact, you might call that bartender you met today a bestie, so your sense of that word is skewed and doesn’t count in this argument.”

“Jeremy.” Cecily pokes me, softening her tone, imploring, but I keep my unwavering attention on Ava.

“He’s not wrong about that.” Remi grins and dunks an olive in his mouth.

“Shut it, Rems.” Ava gives him the side-eye, then directs her malicious stare at me. “It’s different with Cecily. She’s my number one best friend.”

“You mean the one who takes care of your problems and tucks you to bed when you’re drunk,” I say. “That won’t be happening going forward.”

Ava’s expression falls downward. “That’s not all. We…go to places together, and have a lot of sleepovers, and we talk and…and…she’s the only person who gets me.”

“Sounds toxic. You’re too dependent on her and offer nothing in return.”

“That’s not true. Also, I came first and know more about her than you.”

“Doubt it.”

“Then do you know her middle name?” Ava’s voice has turned defensive, realizing that she’s losing. A decent person would’ve backed off, but I’m nowhere on that spectrum so I’ll happily crush the arrogant shit.

“Annabelle,” I say.

Ava purses her lips. “Her comfort food.”

“Waffles and mint gum.”

“Her…her favorite film, then! I bet you don’t know this one.”

“It’s Japanese. Rashomon.”

Ava’s lips part and she eyes Cecily. “You told him that? I thought it was our secret because only a few understand the psychology of it. You even made me watch it a few times to get it.”

“She didn’t have to tell me,” I cut Cecily off before she can reply and continue focusing on her friend. “Why don’t you admit you feed off her and offer little to nothing in return?”

Moisture rims Ava’s eyes and she stares at Cecily, but then she lowers her head without saying anything and slurps from her drink.

“Jeremy!” Cecily hisses under her breath. “If you make her cry, I’ll spend the night in the dorm. Think of that before you say anything else.”

I slide my attention to her. So she did figure out that my purpose is to break Ava and eliminate her as competition. I can think of a thousand ways to make her cry, but it’s not worth it if I have to lose access to Cecily for a whole night.

Maybe some other time. When she’s not around.

Cecily stares at me with an expression of both pleading and simmering anger. I resist the urge to stroke the freckles beneath her eyes. The one hundred fifty-three of them. And yes, I counted them.

I’ve always loved how, despite having her feelings tucked beneath the surface, she doesn’t trap them or allow them to fester and devour her from the inside out.

At least, not anymore.

When we first started out, she was too closed in on herself, too scared of her own demons, and too cautious. But it’s different now.

My Cecily, not Ava’s, has been slowly but surely growing into the beautiful woman she was always meant to be. She started going to therapy with one of her professors she trusts and tells me all about their sessions.

She told me she shouldn’t be trusted with people’s traumas until she finally resolves her own.

Tonight, she’s wearing a dress—one of the few occasions she’s willingly gotten into one. It’s a simple little black dress, but it molds against her curves and has spaghetti straps, one of which keeps falling off her shoulder, creating the most torturous tease.

It doesn’t matter how often, where, or how I fuck her. It doesn’t matter whether I take her as a man or a beast; there will never be a day where I will look at Cecily and not feel the need to sink into her heat, own her, and tuck her as close to me as possible. I want to trap her in that small nook between my heart and rib cage so that she’ll never find a way out.

Until one day, she wakes up and realizes that she was always supposed to be mine.

Not fucker Jonah’s. Not Landon’s.

Mine.

“So, I’m curious.” Remington nearly jumps on top of the table, but the one by his side, Landon’s fucking clone, grabs him and pulls him back down. “How did you un-prude Ces, Jeremy?”

“That’s not even a word,” she tells him, her voice heated.

“Oh, I’m sorry, vocabulary police. The question remains, how did you stop being a prude?”

“Stop calling her a prude, Remi!” Ava throws a napkin at him, appearing angry on Cecily’s behalf.

“She was never a prude,” I say, and Cecily’s hand quivers in mine, her body goes softer, and her lips slightly part whether it’s in awe or admiration, I don’t know.

“You must be talking about a different Cecily, because this one,” Remington points a thumb at her, “is a certified prude who goes all red at the mention of sex. Look! Ladies and gentlemen, the evidence is right here.”

Sure enough, Cecily’s ears and cheeks are changing color. I stroke her hand in mine, and she mutters, “I’m going to kill you, Remi.”

“Me, too.” Ava throws something else at him. An olive.

“You can try, but succeeding will be impossible.” He grabs Creighton by the shoulder. “Protect me from these crazy cougars, spawn!”

His cousin merely removes Remi’s hand to focus back on my sister. He’s been effectively pretending, or actually thinking, that she’s the only person at the table, despite Annika’s subtle attempts to stay engaged in the conversation.

“What the fuck? What the actual fuck?” Remington stares incredulously at Creighton. “Did you just brush me off, spawn? I can’t believe this. I spend all my time raising you, but now that you have Anni, you completely dumped me?”

“Cut it out,” Brandon tells him with a somber expression.

Ava and Cecily then gang up on Remington. Creighton is still ignoring him. Glyndon tries to break up the fight.

Killian and I lean back in our chairs to watch the freak show while I simultaneously plan to get her the hell out of here sooner rather than later.

“What a circus,” I mutter under my breath.

“Welcome to whatever shit the Brits like to do,” Kill says with a grin. “It’s entertaining.”

For him because he likes to see chaos unfold. I prefer to control it, choke it off and not allow it to breathe unless absolutely necessary.

My phone vibrates, and I pull it out as Kill simultaneously retrieves his.

It’s a text in the group chat.

Nikolai: Where the fuck is everyone? The house is empty.

Gareth: We actually have lives aside from entertaining you, Niko.

Nikolai: Oh, fuck off, you’re probably studying like a nerd.

Gareth: As I said. Life.

Killian snaps a picture of the scene, or more accurately, of Brandon, who’s ignoring the chaos unfolding around him, elbow on the table and his chin leaning on his hand. He’s checking his phone with a bored expression plastered all over his face.

A Cheshire cat grin lifts Killian’s lips as he sends the picture to the group chat.

Only a second pass before the reply comes.

Nikolai: Where the fuck are you, Satan’s heir?

Killian: Expanding my options?

Nikolai: Fuck you right the fuck off. Don’t get on my nerves or I’ll cut your dick off while you sleep.

Killian: I also told you not to get on my nerves, but you went ahead and had that drink with Glyndon.

Nikolai: That was weeks ago.

Killian: Still counts.

Nikolai: You know what is also counting? The number of your days.

Jeremy: Tone it down.

Nikolai: Jer! Have you seen the shit he’s spouting?

Jeremy: He has a point.

Nikolai: The fuck? How can you take his side over mine?

Jeremy: I want you to think very carefully about what you’ve done the last couple of weeks, Niko.

Nikolai: You can’t be fucking serious. I can’t even talk to Cecily now?

Jeremy: Not if you can help it.

I snap a picture of the table, Brandon included, and send it to the group chat.

Nikolai: I’m wounded, Jer. Why didn’t you take me with you?

Jeremy: I thought you were busy…with what again? Oh, sleeping to preserve your energy for violence.

Nikolai: I would’ve sacrificed that for you, Jer. What are bros for?

Jeremy: Uh-huh. You dodged a bullet anyway. The Brits are boring except for Cecily.

Killian: And Glyndon. @Nikolai Sokolov I asked you if you wanted me to take you on a stroll, but you said no.

Nikolai: I’m not your fucking dog, motherfucker. Also, I just found out where that place is. Prepare to meet your maker in fifteen.

Kill snickers. I turn off the screen of my phone. Cecily and I should leave before Nikolai shows up and starts drama that’s of a more significant scope than Remington’s, because, unlike him, my friend actually talks with his fists.

“Be right back,” Cecily whispers, then slips her hand from mine and heads toward the bathroom.

I keep watching her back, eyes narrowing the slightest bit. Even though I was distracted by Nikolai and his antics, I notice that she’s reading a text out of sight now.

I also don’t like the expression she had when she just left. There was a tinge of nervousness and, more importantly, guilt. What the fuck does she feel so guilty about?

The noise and movements around the table swirl, mix, and explode in tones of black and gray until I’m unable to see straight.

No matter what I do, how much progress I think I’ve made with Cecily, how deeply I think I’ve claimed her, it always feels like she’s gatekeeping a part of herself.

The one I can’t reach. The one I’m not allowed access to.

When I meet Annika’s gaze, I find that she’s watching me carefully. She must see the change in my expression and even the demons floating around my head like a halo.

Despite my calm demeanor, the façade is nothing more than a camouflage of the need for violence that ripples through me.

I stand up and, without a word, I follow Cecily’s steps. The asphyxiating feeling I’ve had ever since she left my side turns from bad to fucking disastrous when I don’t find her in the long line.

Judging by the time she left, she should be here somewhere, but she isn’t.

I stride down the hall to the back entrance. The air slaps my face the moment I’m outside, but it’s not as jarring as the feeling that slams against my chest when I catch a glimpse of a very familiar fucking car.

A damn flashy McLaren.

Cecily stands in front of it, talking to the car owner while rubbing her arms. Up and down.

Her expression is solemn, her face is caught in its ethereal calm, and her cheeks are flushed.

I try to imagine that it’s only because of the chilly night, that it’s not because she’s talking to that fucker Landon.

After leaving me inside.

It takes me a few moments to regulate my breathing. If I act right now, I’ll kill him and choke the fuck out of her.

Calm the fuck down.

Easier said than done when my muscles are tightening, demanding I pummel the fucker to the ground and claim her in his blood as I promised to.

I wait in the shadows for a beat. Two. Ten.

Then I stalk in their direction. I wouldn’t say I’m in complete control of my physical power, but I know exactly where my priorities are.

“Can’t you just stop?” Her words reach me first, soft, imploring, like whenever she’s trying to convince me of something.

The fact that she’s using it on that motherfucker Landon smashes all my attempts to remain calm.

“I’ll stop when I’m dead.” He grins and reaches a hand out to her.

I grab it before he can touch her, then twist it, and I’m about to break his wrist, but he follows my movements and slips away at the last second.

“Hi there, Jeremy. I see you’re a brute as always.” He flings his wrist in the air. “I need my beautiful hands to sculpt, you uncultured swine.”

“One more reason to break your fucking fingers.” I advance toward him, and he curls his hands that he was just bitching about into fists.

Landon is the only art student I know who’s into violence while knowing full well that he could lose his sculpting future in a freak incident at any time, like tonight.

“Jeremy, stop it.” Cecily comes to my side, her body shaking and her voice choked up, probably knowing exactly how much she fucked up.

“Shut up.” I glare at her over my shoulder. “I’ll deal with you in a bit.”

Gentle fingers grab my bicep and effortlessly try to pull me back. I whirl around, grab her by the shoulders, and shake her so hard that she gasps, her entire body going into shock.

“Stop fucking defending him,” I roar, and she freezes, then blinks, a shine gathering in her bottom lids. “The more you take his side, the more adamant I’ll become about finishing his miserable life.”

Cecily trembles in my hold and a loathsome expression I thought would never appear on her face again slowly materializes in front of me.

Fear.

She’s scared of me. We’re back to square one, where she counts her breaths and words around me. Where she doesn’t trust me.

And it’s all because of this motherfucker—

“This has been nice and all, but I have other matters more important than brawling with you, Heathen.” He grins at me through the open window of his car. “Take it easy on our Cecy. She can be sensitive. Remember, I’m always the better choice, love.”

And then his car revs down the road before I can snatch him out and make him one with the ground.

Cecily shrugs her shoulder, using my distraction to free herself of my hold. “I’m going back inside.”

I grab her by the elbow and wrench her around to face me. “Why don’t you tell me what type of rendezvous you had with Landon first?”

“There was no rendezvous. But if I’d told you he wanted to talk, you wouldn’t have believed me.”

“Why does he have to talk to you in the back of an alley? If there was really nothing, why did you have to sneak around?”

“Because of this!” She throws her hands in the air. “You become unhinged whenever his name is brought up, and I would rather not provoke this side of you if I can help it.”

“Meeting him in secret isn’t a solution, Cecily.”

“Would you rather I meet him in public?”

“I’d rather you don’t meet the fucker at all.”

She flinches at my harsh tone and I take a few calming breaths. “Would you like it if I met Maya behind your back?”

Her lips purse. “No.”

“See? Just like your mind goes to the worst at the thought of her, mine does, too, but ten times worse because you actually had feelings for him!”

Her lips twitch and her face becomes paler than her hair. “I… I didn’t mean to.”

“That doesn’t change the result.” I step forward, softening my tone as much as possible. “Is there something you’re hiding from me, Cecily?”

She gulps, a gentle hue covering her cheeks. “Why would you think that?”

“I just feel it.” I don’t have her fully, even in moments where she feels like she’s mine, it’s not complete somehow. I tried to ignore it at first, to trust her and compromise, as she likes to remind me.

But it’s impossible now.

A shard broke the reminder of my trust the moment I found out she was sneaking around to see Landon. Has it happened before?

Will it happen again?

Will I wake up one day and find out everything we have pales in comparison to the feelings she has for her precious fucking prince?

Cecily stares up at me with those big, bright eyes. “Do you promise not to be angry if I tell you?”

“Depends on what you tell me.”

“I can’t say it if you’re being like this.”

“So you’d rather keep me in the dark?”

“No. Hiding this bit of information has been eating me alive. I can’t hide it from you any longer.”

“Is it about Landon?”

She nods once. My blood goes icy cold.

“Are you cheating on me, Cecily?”

“What? No! You think I would have the mind to entertain being with anyone else after you came into my life?”

That should appease the frigidness inside me, but it doesn’t. Not even close. “Then what is it?”

“You look so scary right now.”

“Spell it out, Cecily.”

She swallows a few times, then stares at her feet before she focuses on me. “Remember that first time in the initiation?”

I nod.

“You asked me why I was there, and I never really gave you an answer. Back then, eh, you know I had a crush on Lan, right?”

“Who the fuck doesn’t?”

She takes my hand in hers, touching, stroking, soothing. “It was meaningless, I know that now, but back then, I didn’t, so when he asked me to go to the initiation on behalf of Creigh and get as much information about your mansion as I could, I did.”

I narrow my eyes. “So you’re his spy?”

“Were. Only that once, and I regretted it deeply after I knew he, well, used the information I gave him to start that fire. I swear I didn’t know or want to. I thought he only needed it for defense purposes. If he’d told me about his plan, I would’ve never helped him.”

I slide my forefinger against my thigh, up and down, up and down in a slow rhythm. My muscles lock and I feel so frigid, I’m surprised the blood doesn’t freeze in my veins.

“But you did help him. Is that why you showed up at the gate that day? Out of a sense of guilt?”

She shakes her head frantically. “I was worried about you. I really didn’t want you or anyone else to get hurt.”

“Guilt then.” I pull my hand from hers, my voice ice-cold. “What else have you done? What did you help your precious Landon with? Did he plant you as a spy by my side?”

“No! I would never do that to you.”

“But you did help him burn the mansion while I was inside it. That didn’t work, so maybe you decided to take this further. Did he train you for a game of seduction? Did he teach you to use vulnerability to get to me? Did he tell you to be like my mom, to use my weakness against me?”

Her body jerks, but I only see that as another lie. Another act.

Another fucking deception.

“No, please stop it, Jeremy. It was never like that.”

“How would I know? Everything you said and did could be part of his careful scheme. Were you always with him, and he told you to use me for his greater plan? Did he teach you how to open your legs for me?”

She raises her hand and slaps me across the face, tears sliding down her cheeks. I could almost believe they’re real.

Almost.

Despite the crying and the sniffling, she raises her chin. “I won’t allow you to disrespect me like that.”

I clutch her hands, then slam her against the nearest wall. “Disrespect? What the fuck do you know about that word when you’ve been using me all along?”

“I wasn’t…” More tears, more sniffles. “I don’t know what I have to do so you’ll believe me, but I promise that I cut ties with Lan after that fire.”

“Obviously. All the times I saw you with him after, even now, clearly testify to that fact.”

“Jeremy…” Her voice softens, becoming gentle. “You need to let go of your illogical fixation that something is going on between me and Landon. There never was and never will be. I…I love you. Not him. You.”

A muscle tics in my jaw. “Is that what he also taught you to tell me?”

“No! What is wrong with you?” She cries harder. “I just told you that I love you and you still think this is a game?”

I wrap my fingers around her throat and squeeze. “I should’ve ended it the first time you called me by his name. I should’ve either fucking killed you or him.”

Her face reddens as she convulses against me, unable to free herself, and I can tell I’m going to snuff the life out of her.

That in a minute, she’ll be dead.

She chose him, not me.

What the fuck is wrong with me? When did I become an animal in every sense of the word?

How could I inflict such pain on her just because I’m being cut open by the truth I refused to see all this time?

Still, my demons thrash and revolt, demanding retribution. They screech and claw. They scream and chant.

She chose him, not me.

She chose him, not me.

She. Chose. Him.

I release her with a jerk, and just like that, my demons quiet down and all the fight leaves my limbs. My obsession bleeds out until it’s floundering in its own blood on the ground.

Cecily remains in place, breathing harshly, crying, sniffling, her eyes look so hurt, so scared, I want to stab myself.

“Run,” I whisper. “This time, don’t let me find you.”

“Jeremy…”

“Run!” I roar.

She flinches, looks at me as if I were a manifestation of her nightmares, her eyes blurred out with tears, then she turns around and runs.

This time, I don’t follow.

This time, I do what I should’ve done that first time.

I let her go.