God of Pain (Legacy of Gods #2)(22)

“Oh, right, of course.” Cecily sits beside Annika and Ava takes the other side. “We’re gathered here today for an important reason that’s a bit more pressing than choking the life out of Remi. Our friend, Anni, needs someone to pretend to be her boyfriend for enough time to convince her family not to arrange a marriage for her. Who’s up for it?”

Annika stares at me with wide eyes and I narrow mine. I specifically told her to erase this idea out of her head, and by association, out of Cecily’s and Ava’s heads.

“No funny business in the fake dating.” Ava points a finger at my cousin. “I’m talking about you, Remi.”

“Define funny business, love.” He grins mischievously, and I can feel that tension rising in my compressed throat.

The darkness shimmers from the background, threatening to devour everything in its wake.

“No, you’re out,” Cecily tells Remi. “Like, totally out.”

“Why the hell are you the one who decides that? It should be Anni! From the potential candidates present, I’m the most handsome, duh, and would make the best boyfriend material.”

“Your arrogance is astounding.”

“Thanks, my lady.”

“That wasn’t a compliment, Remi.”

“Whatever. All I’m saying is that the girl of the hour should choose. Out of everyone present, who do you want to be your fake boyfriend, Anni?”

Her eyes meet mine again, bright, so fucking bright that it’s blinding. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, chewing, biting, waiting.

My jaw tightens as other images fill my mind. All of them start with her trapped beneath me with no way out.

There won’t be any nibbling or chewing. There’ll be slapping, throwing, choking, flogging, gagging, fucking, fucking, and more fucking until I tear her tiny little cunt.

Christ.

The fuck is wrong with me lately?

She releases her lip, all red and plump from how much she bit on it. “If he’s willing to help, and it’s in no way an obligation, of course, but if I had to choose, it’d be Brandon.”

My fist tightens on the fork and I’m surprised it doesn’t snap in two from the ferocity of my grip. My jaw flexes and my muscles stiffen until I’m no different than a rock.

The only thing stopping me from hauling her onto my lap right at this moment is the knowledge that I would break her skin. No doubt about it.

The clever little minx avoids my gaze completely, knowing full well that she fucked up.

But she doesn’t know to what extent.

Annika just unleashed the last bit of control I’ve been conjuring for weeks.

My soul craves the darkness and that’s exactly what I’ll give it.

“I’m sorry to say this, but you have a terrible taste in men, Anni.” Remi flips his hair back. “But then again, my lordship was never meant for fake anything.”

“I’m honored you chose me.” Bran smiles. “I’d be happy to help—”

He’s cut off when I stand up abruptly. This time, Annika looks at me with terrified eyes.

The right eyes.

I don’t say a word as I turn around and leave.

She can have her fun all she wants—or think she is.

It won’t matter one bit once I have her at my mercy.

One thing’s for certain. I’ll keep my promise.

Annika Volkov’s pain will be mine.





8





ANNIKA





I’m losing it.

My pulse quickens, my ears prickle, and my limbs shake at the faintest sound.

It’s been this way since last night.

Ever since Creighton looked at me with that frightening heat, metaphorically stripped me, and then stood and left.

But not before he issued that warning with a mere gaze.

It’s crazy how expressive his eyes can get when he puts in the effort. In a fraction of a second, they’ll morph from blank and absolutely indifferent to scorching lava.

I kept tossing and turning in bed last night, staring at the window and the door. For some reason, I thought he’d ambush at night, when the world sleeps and he’s camouflaged by the darkness.

Like the night he committed arson in my brother’s house.

The anticipation kept me awake, tossing and turning in bed with my heart pulsing in my throat.

I refuse to address or put a name to the feeling that’s been sinking in my stomach since this morning.

After school, I go to the shelter with Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake blasting in my ear. It takes an inhuman effort to stop myself from dancing in sync with the music.

It’s quiet today, with dejection floating in the air because their resident ‘Hot Stuff’ didn’t show up. Yes, we have more volunteers, thanks to him, but it’s inconvenient when their entire work ethic is centered on his presence—or lack thereof. Oh, and his six-pack. Harry started a whole group chat where they share half-naked pictures of him and bicker over who’s going to worship his ‘huge dick’ first. Seriously, not one of them has seen his dick, so that’s a total overstatement.

In no time, he has a fan club, fanatics, and antis—the latter being only me at the moment. I’m just in that group to grasp hold of the situation, nothing more.