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

“You need to come home.”

“Papa!” I slide my attention from my book to the phone and I’m greeted by the face of my custom-made role model.

He grins, showing deep dimples in his cheeks.

Xander Knight is my father, my first best friend—Ava came later—and the greatest dad on earth.

He has a classically handsome face with his golden blond hair, sky blue eyes, and a sharp jawline.

Mum said he used to be the most popular boy at school and attracted everyone’s attention like a magnet not only due to his looks but also thanks to his charm.

It’s safe to say, I didn’t inherit any of those easygoing traits, and it’s not due to a lack of trying on his part.

“I just miss my only daughter too much, so either you come back to London and study at a local uni—which would make everyone happy, by the way—or I find a house near you so your mother and I can see you all the time.”

“No to both.” I suppress a smile because I’m well aware he’s capable of doing that and this is the third time he’s suggested that option.

When we went on a school trip at thirteen, Papa kind of convinced all the other fathers to rent out a holiday house near our camp.

Papa and Ava’s father, Uncle Cole, ended up buying the thing because they’re extra like that, and then they pretended to stumble upon the place we were staying at by chance.

It was the worst lie in centuries. Ava and I kind of came to the realization that we have overprotective dads and we’d have to live with that fact instead of fighting it.

No matter how old we get, we’ll always be their little girls who they wish would remain young forever.

“I mean it,” Papa says from the other end of the phone, a line appearing between his brows. “I can’t sleep at night thinking something has happened to you.”

“You’re just being paranoid. I’m healthy and well.” I flash him my best smile and hope to hell he doesn’t see the doubt and concern hiding behind it.

I am healthy, but only physically, and I certainly haven’t been well. Not since that night a month ago.

Something inside me has shriveled and vanished since then, and I couldn’t find it again, even if I tried.

It was wrong.

Everything was.

From my twisted tendencies to allowing myself to be in that position, even if it was for Lan.

I’ve never felt as ashamed or completely disappointed in myself as I did at that moment when I realized the one who’d chased me in the dark and brought me the most powerful release I’ve ever experienced was none other than Jeremy Volkov.

The resident devil of Brighton Island and the reigning Lucifer of TKU.

I couldn’t look in the mirror for days after the incident, went into my head more times than I could count so that even my friends started to individually ask me if something was wrong.

For a moment, I truly considered going home and finding comfort with my parents, Uncle Kirian, and my grandfathers, but how is that any different from running?

Besides, if I’d done that, I would’ve appeared under the weather and worried them needlessly.

I’m glad I didn’t give in to that impulse and stayed put. If Papa had sensed any hint of distress, he would’ve locked me up in the house and demanded to slay my demons for me.

But I’m past that age where I let him do that on my behalf. The real world without him is much scarier and full of people who wouldn’t hesitate to snuff me out, but I have to do this on my own.

Like I survived that black day on my own.

Papa shifts, allowing a hint of his home office to appear behind him. “I’m still worried. I wish you were still my little Cecy who hugged my thigh and rode my shoulders.”

Me, too, Papa.

“Unfortunately, growing up is mandatory.”

“Don’t I know it?” He shakes his head as if expelling an unpleasant thought. “Tell me all about school. Is everything okay? Is anyone bothering you? Do you have a boyfriend, and does he know that if he touches you, his parents will lose a son? Or maybe it’s a girlfriend, who still shouldn’t touch you unless her parents are ready to lose a daughter?”

“Papa!”

“What? I need to cover all the bases. You haven’t dated any guys since secondary school, so I thought maybe you’d realized you play for a different team. But you would’ve told me, right? You know I would support you no matter what, right?”

I raise a brow. “Does that mean you’ll be more lenient if I introduce you to a girl?”

“No, but I wouldn’t, say, hit her or anything.”

“You shouldn’t hit a guy either.”

“Of course I would. Boys are little wankers.”

I shake my head. “I’m straight, Papa. Annoyingly so.”

“Ah, fuck. So you really have a boyfriend? Name? Family name? Age? Address? IQ?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, he’s good. He’s really good if he’s already making my honeybee lie to me.”

“Papa, stop calling me that. That was for when I was five.”

“Not hearing that. I will, however, hear about this boyfriend that you’re hiding from me.”

“Who has a boyfriend?” Mum’s soft voice comes from the other end.

I pause, rub the side of my nose once, and grip my pen tighter.

Kimberly Knight is the most beautiful woman I know, with her lithe figure, her bright smile, and the green highlights in her brown hair. Even the cut marks on her wrists give her a different type of unconventional beauty.

I heard that she refused to erase those cut marks with surgery, because she was never ashamed of them.

But sometimes, during gray days, she wears long sleeves and tugs them down to cover her wrists so no one sees them.

Her beautiful floppy dress swishes with her movements as she sits beside Papa.

Something magical happens when Papa looks at her. His eyes soften before they explode in a myriad of stars.

I grew up watching them not only irrevocably in love, but also so reverent of one another that I doubt any other two people could adore, uplift, and help each other like they do.

For two decades, I had their love and support but not an ounce of their confidence, which is why I always felt lacking in some way.

“Kim!” Papa takes her hand in his. “Listen to this little brat lying through her teeth and hiding her boyfriend from us.”

“You have a boyfriend, Cecy?” she asks me with a soft smile.

“No, I don’t,” I reply more jerkily, awkwardly than I did with Papa.

Mum’s smile falters for a bit and she watches me intently. Sometimes, I swear she knows each of my dirty secrets and sees straight through me.

I don’t know if it’s because of what she told me back in the last year of secondary school or because she’s a lot harder to fool than Papa, but ever since then, I get this lump in my throat whenever I talk to her.

It’s not that I want to be this type of mess in front of my mother, it’s that I can’t control it.

Papa is easier, but then again, Papa didn’t see straight through me back then.

He wasn’t the one who told me to stop, she was. I still refused to listen.

Her smile returns and she playfully bumps her shoulder against Papa. Maybe it’s due to the fact that they were childhood friends and have known each other all their lives, but every time I talk to them, I’m in awe of their subtle teasing and the way they look at each other.

“She said she doesn’t.”

“She’s lying. Did you see the way she rubbed her nose just now?”

“I felt like I was going to sneeze,” I lie through my teeth, but really, I don’t do that when I’m lying, only when I’m embarrassed.

“Yeah, right. I raised you, honeybee.”

“Papa!”

“Stop teasing her, Xan,” Mum chastises. “And if she does have a boyfriend, she’ll tell us, right, Cecy?”

“You might have to wait a long time. I have no plans for that.”

“See, Kim? She’s hiding him.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

“Maybe this is exactly why she doesn’t want to tell us.” Mum pinches his shoulder. “You’re too much.”

“Oh, come on. I can’t believe you’re taking the little traitor’s side, Green.”

My heart swells whenever Papa calls her that. Green. It’s a homage to how she likes everything green, from the color to pistachio ice cream to green M&M’s. It’s become a part of her personality.

“I can’t let you bully my daughter.” She snatches the phone and smiles at me. “You doing okay, Cecy?”

I lift my index finger to the side of my nose, then force it to drop back down. “Yeah, Mum. Everything’s great.”

She watches me with those imploring eyes again, and I’m surprised I don’t flounder and burn under their weight.

I’m surprised my chest doesn’t rip open and confess everything to her right this instant.

When she speaks, her voice comes out gentle. “Cecy, honey, it’s okay if everything’s not great and if some days are worse than others. You know that, right? Your papa and I are here to listen.”

I choke on the unsaid words that burn in my throat, but I nod. “I know.”

Papa snatches the phone, and that knot gradually disappears as we talk until they eventually hang up.

Leaving me alone with my thoughts.

My cancerous, damning thoughts.

I hate how much they consume me lately, how being inside my own head is torturous and how I find myself there more often than not.

Still, I force myself to get up in the morning, wash my face, eat, and go to school.

I force myself to study, to go out with the guys, and take comfort in the idea that I’m alive.

If I don’t, I’ll be caught in a loop of my own making that no one will be able to save me from.

I’ve been trying so hard to come to terms with my actions, my choices, and how low I’ve fallen—and keep failing miserably.

Maybe it’s a pride thing.

Or a morals thing.

Though I’m not hurting anyone. No one but myself, at least.

I get up from my desk and close my book. I’ve been using the small office in the shelter I volunteer at as my hiding space.

That and the library, where I can read in peace and no one can bother me.

I spend about half an hour feeding the animals, and then I call it a day.

Mostly because everyone went home and Dr. Stephanie, the doctor in charge of the shelter, basically kicks me out.

We walk out of the building together and she stops by her car and retrieves her keys. “Do you want me to give you a ride?”

“No, it’s fine. I could use the walk.” Walking to and back from the shelter is the only workout I get, which is why I don’t drive here in the first place.

A slight frown appears between her brows as she casts a quick glance at the night staking its claim behind me. “Be careful, okay? It’s dangerous for a young lady to walk on her own.”

“Will do, thanks.”

“Text me when you get home.”

I give her a thumbs-up and a smile, but the crease doesn’t disappear from her brows as she gets into her car.

It’s not the first time I’ve gone home alone after sunset. And it’s not really that late.

Anni and I volunteer here, but she never stays after four p.m., and if she does, the place is filled with her security, so she saves everyone the trouble and leaves early.

As for myself, I’m just glad to get more time away from the world. At least animals show their silent support without judging.

After throwing a mint gum in my mouth, I check my texts and pause at the ones from my friends in the girls’ group chat.

Annika: Jer is locking me up in the ivory tower again *crying emoji*

Ava: OMG want us to put on our Superwoman capes and come save you?

Annika: Not unless you’re ready to be locked up with me.

Glyndon: So sorry, Anni. Your brother is really scary.

Ava: But we can take him! @Cecily Knight let’s kick his misogynistic, sexist, patriarchal arse.

My fingers shake and it takes everything in me to type.

Cecily: I have to study for a test tomorrow.

Ava: Boo. You’re always studying.

Cecily: A little thing you should be doing sometimes since you’re at uni and all.

Ava: Kay, Mum!

A dark shadow moves in my peripheral vision and I freeze, but I don’t look behind me.

Instead, I slide the phone into my back pocket and inhale deeply before I continue on my way.

There’s no change in my pace or my breathing, but I can feel the stiffness in each of my muscles.

I can smell the air that’s mixed with the scent of the trees and the salt of the sea.

My heartbeat picks up, too, gradually, almost like I’m ascending stairs and exerting more energy as time goes by.

The books in my hands are heavy, and I tighten my hold on them as if these ancient, long-dead psychologists could materialize in front of me or protect me.

Though I don’t need it.

Probably.

Fact is, this isn’t the first time I’ve had this feeling, or the second.

Or the tenth.

It started a week or so after the most shameful night of my life.

I’ve felt eyes on me since.

Watching me, following me in the dark, utterly and completely shadowing me.

Maybe it was there long before that, but I only started noticing it about three weeks ago.

Probably after he made himself noticeable.

For instance, the discreet shadow from now is nothing more than a twisted and cruel homage to that night.

I know it’s Jeremy.

Not because I’ve searched much, but once, he let me see him on the hill opposite the shelter, on his bike.

He was wearing a helmet, but I knew it was him and kind of pretended I didn’t see him and ran back inside.

Maybe Dr. Stephanie saw him, too, which is why she’s always worried about me going home alone after sunset.

But he’s never gotten close, never talked to me. In fact, he’s kept his distance and only allows me to see him when he thinks I’m getting too comfortable.

It’s like he’s intent on not letting me live in peace.

But then I realized what he was doing, or more like, I found out after a conversation with Lan as soon as I realized my movements were being watched.

Cecily: I think I’m being followed by Jeremy. No. I’m sure I am.

Landon: Oh? I wouldn’t expect any less from him. Of course he’d be suspicious that you used Creighton’s invitation to get into the initiation.

Cecily: What should I do? I don’t want to get involved with Jeremy.

Especially not after the clusterfuck of that night. He rattles me more now that he’s seen that part of me.

Landon: I’ll get one of my guys to watch from afar in case he becomes a danger. In the meantime, ignore him. Pretend he’s not there and he’ll eventually get bored and leave you be. Didn’t he say you were bland? Make him believe it again.

Cecily: How…how do you know he said that?

Landon: Glyn was talking about it to Bran. He said you’re bland and Ava has a social butterfly complex, and Glyn went off like a gun at his throat. Is our little princess loyal or what? At any rate, paint that image again in his mind. Don’t stand out.

Cecily: Am I bland?

Landon: I don’t think so? But he does, or he did before he saw you at that initiation, a scene that he doesn’t think fits your character and, therefore, made him suspicious. In order to restore that belief, you need to remove the source of his doubts and be exactly what he thinks you are. Lay low, and don’t get in touch with me unless absolutely necessary. Stay safe, Cecy. I mean it.

I’ve been taking Lan’s words to heart and have kept my distance from him.

Even I know that Jeremy is following me so that I’ll either lead him to Lan or reveal what he thinks was my plan for barging into the initiation.

But it’s been over three weeks. Doesn’t he get bored?

Doesn’t he ever give up?

Every morning, I wake up and chant in my head that I’ll get used to his watchful gaze with time and that today will be better.

I don’t and it isn’t.

Not even a little.

If anything, my anxiety levels shoot up whenever it’s time to go home or outside, but I can’t stay huddled in the house if I don’t want him to be suspicious.

My whole body is attuned to his presence and I can feel him even if I don’t see him.

Or more like the weight of his stare.

That dispassionate, cold stare of his that’s able to strip anyone bare.

I’ve seen him exactly three times outside of this stalker situation. Once was when he came to personally pick up Anni from REU.

The other two times were at the fight club Ava drags us to now and again. He was there to offer support for the Heathens’ members as they fought.

All three times, I either hid or looked away the moment his punishing gaze fell on me.

I couldn’t handle his watchful gaze or the shame that rattled my bones when I was in his presence.

If my encounter with him in that forest is of any indication, then Jeremy is the type of person I shouldn’t, under any circumstances, get involved with.

Not only is he soulless, but he also doesn’t let up. Not even a little.

Hell, it’s been so many weeks, but he’s still not giving up on watching me and trying to find any clues as to why I was at the initiation.

Even now, I can feel that savage intent radiating off him in waves. Goosebumps erupt on my skin and I shiver as if I’ve been drenched with cold water.

I retrieve my earbuds and put them in, then raise the volume to the max in a helpless attempt to drown out my surroundings.

It doesn’t matter if my hearing is gone. I can still feel his aura flaring around me, prickling my skin, nearly suffocating me.

Something happens behind me and I pretend I haven’t sensed it and march on.

A sudden movement jolts me to a stop and I slowly turn around.

I grow still at the scene in front of me.

Two guys lie on the ground, their noses and mouths bleeding while they twist and wriggle in pain. Over them stands Jeremy, his fist bloody and his expression blank and freezing.

It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him this close and I almost forgot how absolutely huge his build is. His leather jacket stretches against the corded muscles of his biceps and the heaving of his wide chest.

I have no doubt that he’s the one who made them like that, and now, I wish I hadn’t stopped to inspect the scene.

Just when I’m thinking about the best way to escape, he strides toward me. I’m too stunned to move and he reaches me in a few steps.

I flinch when his hand shoots out at my face, but he doesn’t grab me. He yanks out my earbuds.

The loud music still reaches me even as he engulfs them in his big hand with veins extending from the back of it to his long fingers.

“Why the fuck—” he cuts himself off, then starts again with a more collected tone. “Who listens to loud music while they’re walking alone at night?”

He’s talking to me. Blimey. Why is he talking to me when he’s made it his mission to only watch me?

My skin heats and I think I’m hyperventilating. No, I’m sure I am.

The savage weight of his stare stabs me as he waits with growing impatience to hear my reply.

“I didn’t think—”

“You obviously didn’t think. Do you even do that?”

“Don’t insult me.” I breathe harshly. “I wouldn’t have put on the loud music if you weren’t following me like a creep.”

I pause.

Damn it. Damn it.

It was an unspoken rule to not admit I was aware he was stalking me, but I went ahead and divulged that I knew all along.

I expect anger, maybe a lash of his freezing coldness, but a slight smirk lifts his lips. “Like a creep, huh?”

“I didn’t mean…”

“You didn’t mean what? The creep part?”

“I’m… I’m going home.”

“No, you’re not.” He clutches my elbow. “Since I’m already a creep, might as well act on it.”